In desperation, a council was called. The last, yet one that will be remembered for ages, The Council of Cinders.

Some spoke of the old gods, others demand retreat.
Then Elyra spoke:

“What if... we don’t find a hero?”
“What if... we make one?”

So they began the Ignis Arcanum, a spell to create life from dream and will. A soul, born from sacrifice and hope.

Chapter One: The Rise of the Phoenix

In the throne room of a ruined palace, Queen Lysandra sat alone. Her crown was cracked. Her voice was tired.

But two warriors returned when all others had vanished.

Ser Caelum, the Silver Blade, carried a sword dulled by grief.
Lady Elyra, a mystic with ancient blood, sang no songs. Only silence.

They came with a truth no one wished to hear:
The darkness was growing. And Velhara would not survive it.

The flames swirled.
The runes pulsed.

He stepped forward, barefoot on the scorched stone, eyes glowing like coals. Hair the color of dying suns. Fire curled around him not as destruction, but as purpose. A symbol blazed across his chest: sharp, golden, alive.

Aiden had risen

Not summoned. Not born. Chosen; The Phoenix Warrior of an Ashen world

Far above, where light didn’t reach, a shadow moved.
A flick of a black tail darker than the night itself.
Eyes opened, deep, violet, knowing.

Before thrones rose and kingdoms fell, the twin moons danced.

But then, one shattered, no one knows why; But from that night on, the world began to break.

Velhara was dying.
War had broken its armies.

A curse called the Withering was breaking everything else, fields, rivers, minds, souls, life itself.

To be continue...

Nyx was watching.
She always had.