Elira followed Maevra through winding streets beneath the city, her mind still racing.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"To a place where truth waits for those ready to hear it," Maevra replied.
They stopped before an ancient bookstore nestled between towering modern buildings. Dust coated its windows; the faded sign read Eldritch Tomes.
Inside, the air smelled of old parchment and something older still—magic.
Maevra led Elira past rows of forgotten volumes to a hidden vault. With a whispered word, the door creaked open. Within lay a single tome, bound in black leather.
The symbol on its cover matched the Mark on Elira's wrist.
"This will guide you," Maevra said. "Your destiny is linked to a warrior who once swore an eternal oath. That warrior is waking, even now."
Elira's pulse quickened. "I… I don't understand."
"You will," Maevra promised. "In time."
But even as she spoke, shadows stirred beyond the edges of the world. The ancient magic was returning—and not all forces would welcome its reawakening.