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The winds of Levoria had begun to change.
The city of light, once sure in its power and grace, now felt the shift of something unknown, like the air before a storm. In the royal palace, torches flickered ominously as whispers ran through the halls—of dragons, of fire, of ancient powers awakening.
King Theron Valerius, his striking blonde hair glowing under the torchlight, stood in his chambers, staring out over the kingdom. His piercing blue eyes were narrowed in contemplation.
Levoria had been the heart of peace and power for centuries, but there was something in the air, something strange and foreign, that made even the most confident leaders uneasy. The kingdom, founded by an elf and a human, had always ruled with calm strength. But now, with the winds whispering of something older, something more dangerous, they weren't sure how to proceed.
Behind him, the royal seer, an old woman with silver hair and eyes clouded by time, knelt and spoke softly, "Your Majesty… there is a presence. Beyond the sea. A force we've never encountered before. It calls out to us."
The king's jaw tightened. "What force?"
"I do not know," she replied with a tremor in her voice. "But there are signs, Your Majesty. The dragons are stirring. The lands are shifting, as if something is awakening."
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At the royal table, Theron's children were gathered.
Prince Kael, the strong heir to the throne, spoke first. His voice was a solid rumble, confident and commanding. "A new threat, perhaps? We've faced many over the years."
Princess Serenya, sharp-eyed and quick-witted, exchanged a glance with her younger brother, Prince Elian. "We cannot ignore it. This is no ordinary storm. The signs are too… persistent. If something ancient stirs, we must be ready."
Theron raised a hand, silencing his children. He turned to the royal messenger who had entered the room, holding a scroll sealed with an unknown insignia.
The messenger bowed deeply before handing it over. The king broke the seal and scanned the single line written within:
"The Flame remembers. It will come for you."
The room fell silent. The seer's prophecy hung in the air, heavy and unspoken.
"The Flame?" Theron mused, his voice soft yet filled with unease. "What does it mean?"
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Far beyond the shores of Levoria, hidden deep in the forests of Drakarra, the kingdom of women prepared for something they did not fully understand. Zhalira, the warrior, felt it in her bones. The stirrings of an ancient power—one that had long been buried, but was now rising again.
Zhalira had forged Drakarra from the ashes of war, building a kingdom where women ruled, untouched by men's hands. The dragons in her heart, each one black, green, and white, pulsed with a power as old as time itself. And she knew, deep within her, that something was calling her, something that could change everything.
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Back in Levoria, the king knew something had to be done.
"We will send envoys to the northern borders," Theron commanded, his voice calm but resolute. "We must understand what this Flame is, what it wants. We will not be caught off guard."
But the unease in his heart remained. For even with all of Levoria's might, there were things in the world—things from the old stories—that no man or kingdom could truly control.
The Flame would come. And no one knew how it would change everything.
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