Prologue – The Ashes of Gravenmoor
The winds swept through the ashes of the burnt. The smog cleared, and it was seen that the greatest city in Caelmont—Gravenmoor—was no more. Once a beacon of wealth and power, its mighty walls now lay in ruins, torn open like the ribs of a slaughtered beast. Black smoke curled into the blood-red sky, carrying with it the stench of death and betrayal.
The great banners of the Aureli Crown, which had flown proudly from the high towers, were nothing but ragged, burning cloth clinging to shattered stone. The streets where merchants once shouted and children played were silent, save for the hiss of embers and the soft whisper of the wind—whispers that spoke of treachery.
They had come at night. Allies, sworn by oath, who turned their blades on those they once called brothers. Fire followed steel, and in a single night, the jewel of Caelmont was drowned in blood. No mercy was given. No soul was spared.
And among the ruins, amid the charred corpses and broken crowns, a shadow walked alone. A boy who had lost everything. A boy who would take it all back.
The Thronebreaker had been born.