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The air in the Elven capital of Xin’trea didn’t smell of magic yet—it smelled of stagnant peace and the copper tang of hidden daggers. Long before the Conjunction of the Spheres, before humans crawled onto the shores or monsters fell from the sky, the world belonged to the Elder Blood.

In the shadows of the corner, Fjall of the Dog Clan watched her. They were supposed to be enemies—their clans had been locked in a blood feud for generations. But a shared exile makes for strange bedfellows. th3-w-t-h3r-bi00d-0r-g-n-01e01-720p-h3vc-x265-h-nd-3ng-mkv

Eile struck a dissonant chord. "Then let it look. Maybe the world needs a monster to remind us why we used to be heroes." The air in the Elven capital of Xin’trea

"The mages are opening doors they can’t close, Lark," Fjall rumbled, his voice like grinding stones. "I’ve seen the flickers in the air. Rifts. Something is looking back at us from the other side." They were supposed to be enemies—their clans had

That night, the sky didn't turn dark; it turned bruised. A tear opened above the palace, a shimmering geometric void that defied the laws of nature. It wasn't just a doorway; it was a collision. As the first screech of a creature never before seen in this world echoed through the streets, Eile dropped her lute and drew a blade hidden beneath the floorboards.