Prologue
A thunderclap woke me from the long slumber. Piercing through eons of silent meditation, a reverberating clash that rippled through my being.
The earth shook, but not in a manner accustomed to the slow, grinding shifts of continents, nor akin to the habitual kisses of storm upon soil.
No, this was an anomaly, a rude awakening, fracturing the stillness that had cradled me in a serene embrace for time immemorial. It was as though a star, unbound and searing, had plummeted into my embrace. Carrying the taste of fresh rain upon the parched ground—an untouched river coursing through age-old valleys.
An insatiable curiosity unfurled within me, and I stretched beyond myself—reaching, tasting. For I harbored an unyielding greed, a hunger untouched by time, a craving to engulf this fresh, pulsating essence, to experience the novelties of existence through this new, vibrant lens.
Yet, when I finally uncovered this anomaly, a horrifying discovery made me withdraw.
It was a moon child—radiating a fading glow of Starfire—that had found herself ensnared, her essence fettered in a tangleof darkness; a predatory force that had leached upon me, gnawing and corrupting, forcing me into languid numbness.
The darkness draped around her delicate form, striving to restrain the wild surge of life within, to silence the vibrant song in her veins. It was an entity both known and feared, a marauder feeding upon the pristine light, a ravager of harmony.
With an agonizing slowness that resonated in the depths of my being, I beheld the extinguishment of her spirit, the fading of that divine Starfire from her sight.
An internal scream of despair echoed within me, a mournful reverberation at the witnessing of such loss. Every molecule of my vast form quaked with grief as I saw her final breath released.
Chapter 1
Beneath a storm-crowned sky, a veil of mist swirled across the moor, thrumming in rhythm with the sacred cadence of the Druids' hymn.
It echoed in the thunder—in the wind.
The Druids sang, and the storm sang with them, a symphony of power that swelled with every haunting note.
The pull was magnetic, almost seductive. An otherworldly voice weaving itself around Elara's will like a silken thread. One that tugged at her very being, compelling her forward, deeper into the heart of the tempest.
The rain beat against her mercilessly, tearing at her with icy claws, leaving her skin stinging and red. Her thin chemise clung to her like a sheath of ice, and her raven curls, usually lively and defiant, now lay lifeless against her pale, rain-drenched face.
Of all days, it had to be today; she cursed inwardly, fighting against the lure of the spell that aimed to keep her docile, even within her own mind. Each droplet that ran down her frozen form felt like another betrayal from the fates.
Shehatedthis moor. Hated how the Druids—how the High Priest—venerated it, when all she sensed, all she tasted in the air, was the bitter tang of death.
The lines of Druids looked upon her slow march with desperate hope as if she were their beacon of deliverance.
Their gazes, their faith, it was all alie.
They saw salvation in her. But all she could see was the doom she heralded.
Her stomach churned, the weight of an already damned world pressing into her shoulders. This moor,this sacred ground,was not a sanctuary but an elegy to a dying realm.
Cloaked in deep emerald and onyx, the Druid's robes billowed in the storm, the shimmering threads reflecting the moon's silver kiss. Their gazes, hidden beneath hooded cowls, raked over her like cold fingers brushing against her skin. Each step she took seemed to amplify their song—their eyes flashing brighter, glowing with an unnatural fire, as their lips moved faster in a song that tasted ancient.
Elara suppressed a shiver.
They called themselves the men of the earth—the whisperers to the skies, keepers of the ancient order. But, what they asked of her ... it wasmonstrous.
A sharp cough jolted Elara out of her thoughts. Her head snapped toward the sound, a thread of tension pulling her gaze to meet almond-shaped eyes—Avis.
Relief fluttered through her. In this dark realm, Avis was a patch of sunlight—a rare touch of kindness. She might be the only one Elara thought of as an ally, if not quite a friend.
Avis drew her hood back, revealing clear eyes, untouched by the haze of ether that marked the other acolytes. Underneath her golden-brown skin, a faint paleness hinted at unease, and a question formed in Elara's narrowed eyes.
With a subtle flick of her head, Avis gestured down the procession line. Elara’s stomach plummeted, her heart hammering a warning in her chest.
Gods, not again.
