Year 1164 of the Dragon Era (D.E.)
After 78 years of slumber, Valdor was slowly regaining consciousness.
Silence hung around him like fog, and his body felt as heavy as a stone. He opened his eyes — darkness. He felt the chill of the stone slabs beneath him and the metallic taste of blood in his mouth.
"Where… am I…" — he croaked, but his voice echoed off the stone walls.
He didn't remember much. A battle. His mother's scream. Fire. And then… nothing. He clenched his fists as flashes of the past streaked through his mind like sparks: dragons, the glint of steel, a burning sky. He knew one thing — he shouldn't be alive.
He struggled to his feet, leaning against a column. He was surrounded by ruined pillars, cracked sarcophagi, and faded, long-forgotten runes. A tomb. His own grave.
Suddenly, a woman's figure emerged from the darkness — a tall, slender silhouette with eyes that shone like violet crystals.
"Who are you…?" — he asked in disbelief, taking a slight step back.
She didn't answer.
Instead, she raised her hand, and the words of a spell began to flow from her lips.
A magic circle appeared before her.
The air around them trembled.
The runes surrounding Valdor flashed with a bright light, and the curse that had trapped his body in time began to shatter like a thin sheet of glass.
"Wait!" — Valdor shouted, rushing toward her.
It was already too late.
The woman slowly faded into the darkness like a shadow vanishing upon waking from a dream.
Valdor stepped out of the tomb.
Valdor shielded his eyes with his hand, for he hadn't seen light in a long time.
It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the brightness.
After a moment, he slowly lowered his hand.
When he looked ahead, he saw what was left of the city.
Ruins.
Silence.
Empty streets.
His father's castle — lay in ruins.
The villages he had once protected had been burned to the ground.
And above it all, the black flag of the Empire fluttered.
A symbol of betrayal.
A symbol of those he had fought against until his last breath.
Valdor looked up at the sky.
The wind ruffled his long hair, and in his eyes burned a fire that had never gone out.
"I am the only one who… will restore Dragonaria."
Valdor walked through the devastated lands until he noticed something sticking out of the grass.
It was an old sword.
He walked over to it and stared at it in silence for a moment.
Then he picked it up from the ground.
The blade was damaged and marked by the passage of time, but it still held its former strength.
Valdor gripped the sword more tightly and continued on his way.