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Chapter 1: The Ring That Whispered
The wind howled through the mountain pass like a hungry beast, cold and ancient. Kaelen Vire pulled his cloak tighter, the rough wool doing little to keep out the frostbite that clung to his bones. The monks had warned him not to go beyond the Vale of Whispers, not without a guide, not without reason.
But the ring had called again last night—in his dream.
He hadn't told anyone.
He trudged forward, boots crunching over frost-coated rocks, until he reached the edge of a cliff overlooking a forgotten ruin. Towering stones jutted from the earth like the ribs of a long-dead titan. And there, among the broken pillars, sat a lone pedestal.
Kaelen's heart pounded. He'd never seen this place before—except in his dreams.
He approached, the air growing warmer, stranger. Static hummed in his ears. Time stuttered. The clouds slowed overhead. His breath no longer steamed.
There it was.
A ring, small and dull, rested atop the pedestal. Its surface shimmered with shifting symbols—none Kaelen recognized, yet somehow he understood them. Destiny. Choice. Sacrifice.
He reached out. His fingers hovered above it.
"Don't," came a voice behind him—soft but sharp.
Kaelen spun, hand still outstretched. A woman stood at the tree line. Cloaked. Bow slung across her back. One eye covered with a patch.
"You don't know what that is," she said.
"I think I do," Kaelen whispered. "It's mine."
And before she could stop him, he touched it.
The world shattered.
He saw fire devouring cities. Rings clashing in air thick with magic. A throne of black stone rising beneath his feet. And himself—crowned in shadow and flame.
The vision ended in a heartbeat.
Kaelen collapsed to his knees, gasping. The ring was on his finger now—glowing faintly. The whisper had returned, clearer than ever.
"Find the others. Or fall before them."
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