Kael Draven had always felt that the city of Vaelith was alive. Not just alive in the usual way; crowds bustling, markets screaming, lanterns flickering, but alive with secrets; narrow streets twisted like serpents, alleys swallowed voices, and every doorway seemed to whisper a story Kael wasn't meant to hear. Tonight, under the pale glow of twin moons, the air was heavier than usual. Even the wind seemed hesitant.
Kael stood on the balcony of his modest stone home, overlooking the city's labyrinthine rooftops. His heart thumped not from fear, but from longing. Lyanna, the woman who had stolen his soul with a single glance years ago, was gone.
He sighed, running a hand over the hilt of his sword. The weapon had been in his family for generations.
A shadow flickered across the courtyard below. Kael stiffened. The feeling of being watched had returned.
Kael's horse, Azir, was neighed from the stable. He stepped back inside and whispered:
"Lyanna… wherever you are… I will find you."
A paper slid beneath the door.
"The first desert flower waits where the sun bleeds into the dunes. Do not trust the shadows."
As the moonlight fell on his face, a whisper echoed:
"You were expected…"