The night the prophecy stirred, the moon rose larger than any living soul had ever seen.
Its golden light spilled across the high cliffs of Valoria, washing over the ancient palace that perched above the drifting mist. Towers pierced the sky like outstretched fingers, glowing softly beneath the lunar shimmer. Even the stillness of the air felt different—expectant, as if the entire empire was holding its breath.
Alisha stood alone on the balcony of the east wing, her cloak fluttering behind her as the wind teased the edges. She had watched the moon every night since childhood, but never had it felt so close… so alive.Its glow reflected in her eyes, warm and impossibly familiar.
"Something's changing," she whispered.
For years, she had been raised within the palace but never truly part of it. A ward, they called her. A foundling. Brought in from the borderlands after a stormy night she barely remembered. The Emperor had offered her shelter, education, and a place among the palace scholars—but never answers. Never the truth.
And tonight, the silence of those secrets felt heavier than ever.
A soft tremor ran through the stone beneath her feet, so faint she almost doubted she felt it. Then the palace bells chimed—three deep notes that never sounded unless something was terribly wrong.
Alisha's heartbeat quickened.
Before she could step back inside, a burst of golden light spiraled up from the horizon. Not fire. Not lightning. Something older, swirling like ancient script written across the sky. The symbols glowed for only a moment before fading—but not before she felt a tug deep in her chest, as if the light were calling her name.
A door swung open behind her.
"Alisha!"Master Rowan strode onto the balcony, his dark robes rustling. His usually calm face was tight with worry. "You need to come with me. Now."
"What's happening?" she asked. "The sky—"
"There's no time." Rowan lowered his voice, glancing toward the distant towers. "The Emperor has summoned you. He says… it has begun."
Alisha froze. She had never been summoned by the Emperor before—not once in seventeen years.
"Why me?" she whispered.
Rowan looked at her with an expression she had never seen on him—fear mixed with something almost like awe.
"Because, child," he said softly, "the moon has chosen its heir."
The wind stilled.
The moon glowed brighter.
And deep within the palace of Valoria, ancient doors she had never known existed slowly began to open—waiting for her.