For most of the morning, Greyhaven continued exactly as it always had.
The villagers moved through their routines with the quiet certainty of people who believed tomorrow would look the same as today. Carts rolled along the narrow dirt roads, chickens wandered freely between wooden fences, and the soft clang of a hammer echoed from the blacksmith's yard.
If anyone had looked carefully at the sky, they might have noticed the faint violet line slowly spreading between the clouds.
But no one did.
Life in Greyhaven had always been simple.
And simple lives rarely expected the sky to break.
Arin stepped into Mira's bakery with the bucket balanced carefully in both hands.
Warm air wrapped around him immediately. The small shop smelled of yeast, cinnamon, and freshly baked bread.
Old Mira stood behind the wooden counter, pulling a tray of golden loaves from the oven.
"Ah, there you are," she said without looking up. "I was beginning to think the well had swallowed you."
Arin set the bucket beside the counter.
"Just a slow morning."
Mira snorted.
"There's no such thing as a slow morning in this village."
She placed the tray on the counter and wiped flour from her hands.
Mira was small and round, with silver hair tied into a loose braid behind her head. Her bakery had stood in the same place for nearly forty years, and she had served bread to almost every person in Greyhaven at one time or another.
She studied Arin carefully.
"You look distracted," she said.
"Do I?"
"You always do when you're thinking too much."
Arin leaned against the counter.
"I was just talking with Taren earlier."
Mira raised an eyebrow.
"Oh?"
"He said a trader passed through yesterday," Arin said. "Apparently strange things are happening across the kingdom."
Mira crossed her arms.
"Strange things are always happening somewhere. Traders love dramatic stories."
"Magic storms," Arin added.
That made her pause.
For a brief moment, the cheerful warmth in her expression faded.
"Magic storms?" she repeated quietly.
Arin noticed the change immediately.
"You've heard of them?"
Mira turned back to the oven.
"Only rumors," she said.
Her voice sounded distant.
"My grandmother used to talk about them sometimes."
Arin frowned.
"And?"
"She said they happened long ago," Mira replied. "Before the kingdoms were united."
She slid another tray of bread into the oven.
"Magic wasn't as stable back then."
Arin folded his arms.
"What does that mean?"
Mira glanced at him.
"It means magic behaved differently. Wilder."
Before Arin could ask another question, the bakery door opened.
A tall man stepped inside, brushing dust from his cloak.
"Morning, Mira."
"Morning, Halden," she replied.
Halden was one of the village guards—a broad-shouldered man with a weathered face and tired eyes. He carried a spear across his back and wore the faded blue cloak of the kingdom's border patrol.
He nodded politely to Arin.
"Morning, lad."
"Morning."
Halden approached the counter.
"I'll take two loaves."
Mira wrapped the bread in cloth and handed it to him.
"That'll be three copper."
Halden paid and tucked the bundle under his arm.
Before leaving, he glanced at Arin.
"You hear the rumor yet?" he asked.
Arin raised an eyebrow.
"About magic storms?"
Halden looked mildly surprised.
"So it's already spreading."
Arin leaned forward slightly.
"Is it true?"
The guard hesitated.
Then he lowered his voice.
"I don't know about storms," he said. "But something strange is happening."
"What kind of strange?" Mira asked.
Halden rubbed his chin.
"Two villages east of the forest reported unusual magical disturbances last week."
"Disturbances?" Arin asked.
"Strange lights," Halden replied. "Animals behaving erratically. One farmer claimed the ground itself started glowing."
Mira frowned.
"That sounds like nonsense."
"Maybe," Halden admitted.
"But the capital sent riders north yesterday."
Arin straightened slightly.
"Imperial riders?"
Halden nodded.
"That's what the trader said."
Silence settled over the small bakery.
Even the crackling oven seemed quieter.
After a moment, Mira waved her hand dismissively.
"Well," she said, "none of that has anything to do with Greyhaven."
Halden shrugged.
"Probably not."
But Arin noticed the way the guard glanced toward the window.
As if checking the sky.
Outside, the village square had grown lively.
Merchants were arranging their goods along wooden stalls, and children ran laughing between the carts. The smell of roasted meat drifted from a small tavern at the edge of the square.
Arin stepped out of the bakery and blinked in the bright sunlight.
For a moment, everything felt perfectly normal.
Then he noticed the sky again.
The faint violet crack had grown wider.
It stretched farther across the clouds now, glowing softly against the pale blue sky.
Arin frowned.
He stepped away from the bakery and stared upward.
"What are you looking at?"
Taren's voice startled him.
Arin turned.
His friend stood a few steps away, carrying a wooden practice staff across his shoulders.
"Training finished already?" Arin asked.
"Master Kel says I lack focus," Taren replied.
He followed Arin's gaze.
"What's wrong?"
Arin pointed toward the clouds.
"Do you see that?"
Taren squinted.
At first, he said nothing.
Then his expression slowly changed.
"Huh."
"You see it?"
"Yeah."
The glowing fracture pulsed faintly across the sky.
Taren scratched his head.
"That definitely wasn't there earlier."
"Do you think it's magic?" Arin asked.
Taren rolled up his sleeve.
The spiral mark on his wrist glowed faintly blue.
He held his hand toward the sky.
For a few seconds, he stood perfectly still.
Then he frowned.
"I can feel something," he said.
Arin felt his stomach tighten.
"What kind of something?"
"I'm not sure."
Taren lowered his arm.
"It feels… strange."
Before Arin could ask more, a loud voice called from the square.
"Everyone look!"
People began gathering in the center of the village.
Arin and Taren exchanged a glance before joining them.
Old Bran stood near the well, staring upward with narrowed eyes.
"Something's wrong," the old man muttered.
The violet crack across the sky suddenly flickered.
A faint rumble rolled through the air.
Several villagers gasped.
"What was that?"
The glowing fracture widened.
Thin streams of purple light spilled through the opening like lightning trapped behind glass.
The rumbling grew louder.
Taren grabbed Arin's arm.
"Arin…"
Arin didn't answer.
He couldn't.
Because the sky above Greyhaven was starting to move.
The clouds twisted unnaturally around the glowing fracture.
Wind swept through the square, rattling shutters and scattering loose papers across the ground.
The air felt heavy.
Charged.
Like the moment before a lightning strike.
"What is happening?" someone whispered.
Halden pushed through the crowd.
"Everyone stay calm," the guard said firmly.
But his voice lacked confidence.
The rumbling turned into a deep roar.
The glowing crack stretched across the entire sky now, burning with violet light.
And then—
the sky split open.
A blinding flash erupted across the heavens.
The shockwave hit Greyhaven seconds later.
Windows shattered.
Roofs trembled.
The ground shook violently beneath their feet.
People screamed.
Above them, the broken sky poured streams of glowing magic toward the earth.
Arin stared in horror.
The magic twisted through the air like falling comets.
One of them struck the distant hills.
Another slammed into the forest beyond the river.
And then—
one fell toward the village.
Straight toward the square.
Taren's eyes widened.
"Run!"
But Arin couldn't move.
The glowing storm of magic crashed into the center of Greyhaven.
And the world exploded in light.