The stars were veiled in ash that night.
Kaia sat alone atop the crumbled ramparts of a forgotten ruin, wind combing through her silver hair like a memory. The air whispered in a language she hadn't heard since childhood — cold and old, shaped by howls and heartbeats under the boughs of the World Tree.
She didn't speak.
Didn't breathe too loud.
Didn't let herself feel.
Because if she did—
The memories would come.
And they did.
A field of ice and moonlight.
Snow spiraling like silver fire.
Laughter. Clashing spears in friendly duel.
Wolves singing beneath ancient roots.
Her father, Nhal'Tara — broad-shouldered, eyes fierce, his fang-lined grin the stuff of legends.
"Kaia," he'd say, resting a heavy paw on her shoulder. "Your heart burns hotter than the stormwinds. That's good. Just make sure it burns for your kin, not your pride."
She was Huntmistress-to-be.
Chosen by blood. Revered by name.
A symbol.
A future.
Until fire came.
Not in armies. Not in dragons.
But in robes.
In questions.
In promises.
"Will you serve something greater?"
"What is blood, when destiny calls?"
"The Rift has chosen. The Tree only delays what must be."
They brought peace.
Then stole everything.
When she refused the brand, they branded her anyway.
When she resisted, they burned the groves.
When she fought, they butchered her kin.
The scar on her back wasn't from fire.
It was from them.
The Order.
Unlike the mark Rei now bore.
Her claws curled into stone.
The wind howled louder inside her chest, but her face was still.
Rei had the mark.
So did she.
That wasn't chance.
The Order didn't leave anything to chance.
They were moving again.
She could feel it — like storm tremors beneath calm snow.
**
In the east, a temple had gone dark.
A whisper rode the winds only hours ago.
"The Rift had opened."
"The Void now remembers."
**
In that same forgotten ruin, far from the reach of the Blackstone Keep, Rei tossed in restless sleep, muscles twitching beneath a threadbare blanket. Kaia watched from above.
The man with no past. No prophecy.
And yet — he carried power like a sealed god.
They would come for him.
Soon.
And she didn't know if she wanted to protect him...
Or use him.
Maybe both.
The thought made her laugh.
Low. Bitter.
Sharp as broken bone.
**
Far across the sands of Elaris, beneath the remains of a shattered cathedral swallowed in ash, TheOrder gathered.
White robes. Black blades.
Eyes burning with runes never written in any known tongue.
A figure in radiant gold knelt before a blue flame that gave no heat.
"The Vessel stirs.
The Frostfang watches.
Shall we strike?"
From behind the veil, a voice answered.
Dry as salt. Cold as scripture.
"No.
Not yet.
Let them remember.
Then...
We unbind the door."