Chapter One: The Flames of Destiny

The wind howled through the ruins of Eldrakar, whispering forgotten secrets through the cracks of timeworn stone. The temple loomed ahead, its massive archway gaping like the jaws of some ancient beast. Lyara Valen pulled her hood lower, her fingers tightening around the hilt of her sword.

The 𝗔𝘀𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗖𝗿𝗼𝘄𝗻 —an artifact of immeasurable power, forged in dragonfire and worn by the last king of Eldrakar—was said to rest within these ruins. Legends claimed it could restore balance to the fractured lands or plunge them into an age of endless war.

She wasn’t the only one after it.

From behind a crumbling pillar, she spied three armored figures standing guard at the temple’s entrance. Their dark steel masks bore the insignia of the 𝗢𝗿𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗼𝗳 𝗕𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝗘𝗺𝗯𝗲𝗿.

Lyara’s stomach twisted. Lord Malrik’s agents had arrived first.

She had fought the Order before. They were ruthless zealots who believed the crown belonged to their master. If Malrik claimed it, the kingdoms would fall under his dominion. She couldn’t let that happen.

She crouched lower, pressing herself against the cold stone, and steadied her breathing. Her mind raced. There was no way to enter unnoticed—not with the guards so close. She could wait, but time was not on her side. Others would come searching for the crown, and hesitation meant defeat.

Her only option was speed and precision.

Lyara moved, swift as a shadow. With a flick of her wrist, she sent a dagger flying. It struck the first guard in the throat before he could turn, his gurgled cry cut short as he slumped to the ground.

The second barely had time to react before she was upon him, her sword thrusting deep into his chest. His eyes widened in shock before the light faded from them.

The third spun, his blade already raised, but she was faster. She ducked beneath his swing, her body moving fluidly. Before he could recover, she smashed the pommel of her sword into his temple with a sickening crunch. He crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

Silence.

Lyara exhaled, steadying herself. Her heart pounded against her ribs, but she didn’t allow herself to dwell on the adrenaline flooding her veins.

She wiped her dagger clean and retrieved it, glancing around.

No other enemies.

Not yet.

Carefully, she approached the temple entrance, pausing only to listen. The air within was thick with dust, carrying the scent of something ancient—forgotten history waiting to be unearthed.

The stone walls were lined with carvings, stories of kings and queens long lost to time. Figures were depicted wearing the 𝗔𝘀𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗖𝗿𝗼𝘄𝗻, each one wielding power beyond imagination. Some ruled with wisdom, while others drowned the world in chaos.

The sight sent a shiver down her spine.

As she stepped inside, a cold chill ran down her spine. The temple was deathly silent, the weight of centuries pressing in on her. Shadows danced along the walls, shifting as if something unseen moved within them.

The trial of the 𝗔𝘀𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗖𝗿𝗼𝘄𝗻 had begun.

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"𝑨 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒓 𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒆𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒍𝒂𝒊𝒎 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒚."

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