Dawn broke over the ruins of Elaris.
Smoke still rose from the broken houses. The once peaceful village was now nothing but blackened wood and silence.
Ardyn stood in the center of it all.
Everyone was gone.
He clenched his fists. This power… it saved him. But it couldn't save them.
"Power without control is destruction," the ancient voice murmured.
"Then teach me," Ardyn whispered.
Before the voice could answer—
A sound.
Footsteps.
Light. Careful. Not armored.
Ardyn turned sharply, shadows instinctively forming around him.
From behind the burned well stepped a girl — about his age. Long silver hair covered in ash. A small dagger in her hand.
Her sharp blue eyes locked onto his glowing mark.
"So it's true…" she said quietly. "The Shadow Heir survived."
Ardyn tensed. "Who are you?"
She slowly lowered her dagger.
"My name is Lyra."
She glanced at the destroyed village, then back at him.
"And if you stay here any longer, the Dominion's hunters will find you."
Ardyn's heart tightened. "They're already dead."
Lyra shook her head.
"Those were scouts. The real hunters are far worse."
A distant horn echoed across the mountains.
Ardyn felt the mark on his palm pulse.
Lyra stepped closer.
"You have two choices," she said calmly.
"Run and die alone… or come with me and learn what you truly are."
The wind picked up.
For the first time since the awakening, Ardyn felt something different.
Not fear.
Not rage.
Hope.
He looked at the ashes of his home one last time.
Then he stepped forward.
"Lead the way."
Far away, inside the black tower, the hooded figure watched through a crystal mirror.
"The game begins," he whispered.
And in the sky above them, dark clouds slowly gathered.
To be continued…