Prologue
Long ago, before the kingdoms of men rose from stone and sea, the goddesses walked among mortals.
They were not myths then, but memory.Not legends, but living flame.
From their hands came the breath of the world—light and fire, wind and wave, life and death woven into balance. Five sisters. Five thrones. Five domains.
Luceria, who bore the wisdom of stars and the radiance of truth. Aetheris, guardian of endings, and the seed of every beginning. Pyrrha, mother of fire, whose feet split mountains and hearts alike.Indoria, whose sorrow birthed oceans, and whose rage birthed storms. Zephyra, whose laughter was the wind, and whose silence changed the course of kings.
When the goddesses departed, they left behind five sacred thrones, each guarded by a bloodline touched by the divine. From these thrones came order, tradition, peace.
For a time, it was enough.
But peace is a flame easily shadowed.
And prophecies—like seeds buried deep—do not sleep forever.
It is written in the oldest tongue:
When shadow eclipses light,a child shall be born beneath a silent sky.She will carry the seal of two worlds—one forgotten, one forsaken.She will not remember her name, but the stars will.And when she cries, the thrones shall tremble.
She will not come with armies.She will not rise with thunder.She will awaken not in glory—but in silence.
And when she does…the world will begin again.