Chapter 9: The Gathering Storm
The map glowed faintly under Riven's fingertips. Four ley lines—ancient rivers of magical energy—converged on a single point in the northern mountains: The Spire of Winds.
"It's the only place left that holds the answers," Riven said. "And the only place the Queen of Ashes fears."
Kavin stared at the marked spot. "Why?"
"Because it's where the prophecy ends," Riven said quietly. "And where your real destiny begins."
Their journey north was slow and treacherous.
The skies above the realm had darkened. Storms brewed endlessly on the horizon. Villages lay in ruins. Shadows moved through forests where no animals stirred. The Queen's forces had begun to march—led by strange commanders in obsidian armor.
Kavin, Lyra, and Riven moved in secret, cloaked by magic and the silence of a world on edge.
But it was becoming harder to hide.
Each time Kavin used his power, the air shimmered. His presence was beginning to echo—not just in the world, but in the Veil—the spiritual layer between realms.
"They can sense you now," Lyra warned after he healed a wounded child in a ruined village. "You're like a beacon."
"I won't stop helping people," Kavin said. "Let them come."
But even as he said it, he felt it too.
Something was coming.
They crossed into the Frostlands on the fifth day.
Snow blanketed the ground. The wind carried whispers—not of ghosts, but of memories.
And on the seventh day, they found her.
A woman.
Alone in the snow.
Surrounded by the remains of a shattered battalion—soldiers turned to ash.
She stood with a sword of blue crystal in one hand, her silver braid whipping in the wind. When she turned, her eyes burned not with flame—but with frost.
"Another Starborn," Riven whispered.
"No," Lyra said. "Something else."
The woman spoke. "I am Seraphine of the Iceborn. I felt the flame that woke the mountain. It called to me."
Kavin stepped forward. "You're one of the Awakened?"
"No," she said. "I'm one of the Forgotten."
That night, Seraphine told her tale by the fire.
She was born centuries ago, during the War of Fractures, when Titans still walked and magic had no master. She and others like her—blessed by elements, neither mortal nor god—were sealed away when the Queen of Ashes rose to power.
"The Queen feared what we could become," Seraphine said. "So she erased us. But your fire woke more than her rage. It broke the chains of time."
"There are more like you?" Kavin asked.
She nodded. "Sleeping. Hiding. Waiting."
"For what?"
"For you."
In the depths of the night, Kavin had a vision.
A storm raging above a high spire.
A voice crying out across the mountains: "Come to me, Starborn."
He saw a throne of light—empty.
And a hand reaching toward him—one made of fire and shadow, offering a crown.
He awoke with sweat on his brow.
And in the darkness, Lyra sat nearby, eyes open.
"You saw something," she said.
Kavin nodded. "It's beginning."
By morning, Seraphine had joined them.
"We stand with you," she said, holding out her hand.
Kavin took it.
And the moment he did, the winds howled louder—like the world itself was waking up.
The Spire of Winds loomed ahead.
So did war.
Far to the south, in the Obsidian Citadel, the Queen of Ashes rose from her throne.
"The Forgotten stir," she whispered. "The Spire awakens. I must send the Reaper."
From the shadows emerged a figure in black armor, faceless and silent.
The Queen placed her hand on his chest. "Burn them all."