Episode 1: The Blacksmith's Brand
The village of Durnfall was the kind of place the world forgot. Nestled in a hollow between the old Stoneback Hills, its thatched rooftops and soot-streaked chimneys sat under the lazy watch of mountain skies. The forge was the loudest place for miles, and that suited Elira just fine.
The clang of hammer on steel, the hiss of water on hot iron, the simple rhythm of creation—it was a life that didn't ask too many questions. And Elira had learned long ago not to ask too many in return. Questions led to answers, and answers to truths that often burned hotter than the forge.
"Elira, more coal," came a voice behind her, rough as gravel but warm as sunlight.
She turned, brushing soot from her brow. Master Brin, her guardian and the village blacksmith, was hunched over a sword blank, sweat glistening in his silver beard. He nodded toward the fire.
She hauled the sack over, feeding the flames until they roared like an angry beast. Brin gave a satisfied grunt and resumed hammering. Sparks danced in the air like fireflies.
"Another one for the captain?" she asked.
Brin nodded. "Says he wants steel that bites. Says bandits have started circling the trade roads again."
Elira frowned. Bandits were rare this deep into the highlands.
"Or something worse than bandits," Brin muttered, as if reading her thoughts.
She didn't press. Brin had fought in the Border Wars long before she'd come into his life. He knew things. Things he didn't often speak of.
Later that night, Elira lay in the loft above the forge, staring at the rafters. Dreams came quickly. Fire. Screams. A woman in white robes, eyes burning gold, whispered her name.
Elira.
She sat up, gasping. Her arm burned.
Pulling back her sleeve, she saw it—a mark, seared into her skin. Not ink. Not paint. Not a wound. A sigil, glowing faintly, shifting like living metal. A curved flame intertwined with a broken circle.
It wasn't one of the Four.
Not the Knight's Sword, nor the Healer's Leaf. Not the Scholar's Eye. Not the Seer's Star.
She'd seen all those marks before, branded on the wrists of travelers and traders who passed through Durnfall.
This was something else. Something forbidden.
---
By morning, the mark was gone.
At least, to anyone else's eyes.
Elira still felt it burning under her skin, pulsing with every heartbeat. She wore long sleeves to hide it, even in the summer heat.
Brin noticed, of course.
"You ill?" he asked, one brow raised.
"Just tired."
"Hmph. Tired's a young person's excuse for secrets."
She forced a smile.
A week later, the soldiers came.
They wore the colors of the King's Inquisition—deep crimson, with the Four Sigils stitched in gold across their breastplates. The entire village gathered in the square, murmuring. The captain dismounted, holding a scroll.
"By order of His Majesty King Virell, bearer of unmarked sigils is to be found and taken for examination. A rare magical disturbance was recorded in these parts."
Elira went cold. The mark.
They began testing everyone. A drop of mage-ink was applied to each wrist. If a sigil appeared, all was well.
When they reached Elira, her hand trembled.
The ink touched skin. For a moment—nothing.
Then the mark flared.
Not a Knight's Sword. Not any known sigil.
The soldiers stepped back, weapons drawn. Villagers gasped.
Brin shoved forward. "She's no witch! She's my daughter!"
The captain raised a hand. "She bears a forbidden mark. The Fifth."
Elira's vision swam. The world tilted.
Chains clicked around her wrists.
And just like that, the forge became a memory.
---
They rode for days.
Through forests thick with fog, across rivers swollen with spring rain. Elira kept her head down. At night, she stared at the sky and wondered if the stars knew who she was now.
The Citadel rose like a mountain carved by gods. Towers like spears, banners whipping in the wind. Magic crackled in the air. The soldiers dismounted and led her forward.
At the gates, a tall woman in grey robes waited.
"She bears the Fifth," the captain said.
The woman tilted her head. "Does she, now? Come, child. We have much to discuss."
Elira stepped forward, the mark tingling beneath her skin.
And the great gates of the Citadel of Banners groaned open before her.