The clang of metal against stone echoed through the streets of Aeorla as Arlith walked past merchants hawking their wares. The air was thick with the scent of spiced honeycakes and ocean brine, yet her thoughts were elsewhere.

  A bard’s voice rang out above the market’s bustle, rich and commanding, weaving a tale that sent a shiver down her spine.

  "On the night when the stars burned brightest in the year 0 BND," he intoned, his words measured, deliberate. "Aeloria, the Radiant, and Zaryx, the Shadowed, clashed for the first time. Their battle split the heavens, and from the rift descended the Starshard—a fragment of divine light and shadow intertwined. It marked the end of an age… and the beginning of something greater."

  The bard’s gaze swept the crowd, pausing on her. His eyes lingered, sharp and knowing, as if he were addressing her alone. Arlith stiffened, her fingers brushing against the pendant at her throat. Then, with a faint smile, the bard continued.

  "Many believe the Starshard still waits in the Great Amphitheater of Aeorla, unseen by all but those chosen by fate. Some say it holds the essence of Aeloria and Zaryx, waiting for the one who will unite what was once divided."

  A strange chill crept over Arlith, an inexplicable familiarity gnawing at the edges of her mind. Before she could dwell on it, Sorvin’s voice cut through her thoughts.

  “We should move on, my lady,” he said, his tone unreadable as he gestured ahead. “The council is expecting us.”

  The Great Amphitheater loomed before them, an architectural wonder rising from the heart of Aeorla like a relic of the divine. Towering stone arches bore the weight of centuries, their surfaces etched with stories of ages past. As Arlith approached, her gaze locked onto the central dais, where something pulsed with an otherworldly glow.

  Encased in a crystalline sphere atop a pedestal of silver and obsidian, the Starshard shimmered. Its light flickered between gold and violet, shifting like the sky at dusk. Though the amphitheater was often a place of debate among the elven kingdoms, today, it felt different—reverent, almost sacred.

  Arlith’s steps slowed. A deep pull thrummed in her chest, an unseen force tethering her to the relic. Her fingers clenched around her pendant, her knuckles whitening.

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  "Born of light and shadow," a voice whispered in her mind, ancient and distant, like an echo from another lifetime.

  “My lady?” Sorvin’s voice cut through the haze. She turned to find him watching her closely, his brow furrowed.

  “I’m fine,” she lied, forcing herself forward. But the moment she stepped into the amphitheater’s assembly hall, the weight of expectation settled over her like a cloak.

  Elven dignitaries lined the chamber, their cloaks shimmering in colors that marked their kingdoms. They parted as she passed, offering bows and murmured words of deference—or was it suspicion? Arlith was used to such ceremonies, yet today, their stares felt heavier.

  Her voice dropped to a whisper as they neared the central dais. “Why is it here?”

  Sorvin kept his voice low. “The Starshard has always been here. The first council built the precursor to this amphitheater around it centuries ago. It represents balance—the light and shadow that shaped our world. For many, it’s more than a symbol. It’s a reminder of what was lost.”

  Arlith swallowed hard. “And what do they expect me to do with it?”

  Sorvin hesitated before answering. “The shard is said to respond to Irithil Magic—to those who carry traces of Aeloria or Zaryx’s power. The elves wish to see if it will acknowledge you.” He glanced at her, his expression unreadable. “Anyone born on the day a star shines unnaturally bright is considered… significant.”

  A shiver ran through her, but she forced her expression into practiced calm. She had heard the whispers before. Stories of destiny, of divine rebirth. But standing before the shard, the weight of those words felt real in a way they never had before.

  As the council session began, voices rose and fell like waves, discussing the Coalition’s future and the looming threat of the C?sr?thian Empire. Yet Arlith barely heard them. Her gaze remained fixed on the Starshard, its light pulsing in time with her heartbeat.

  And then—

  A vision.

  A radiant figure cloaked in golden light, arms outstretched toward another wreathed in shifting darkness. They moved in tandem, power crackling between them, their energy colliding and merging. And between them stood a child, bathed in twilight, neither light nor shadow but something in between.

  The vision shattered.

  Arlith gasped, her hand trembling at her side. The chamber blurred around her. Sorvin, ever observant, shifted closer, his eyes sharp with concern, but he remained silent. He knew his place in these proceedings.

  A voice interrupted the heavy silence. “Are you well, my lady?”

  The Nythari of the council had turned his attention to her. All eyes followed. Their weight pressed against her like a storm.

  “I…” She steadied herself. “I am.” Her voice sounded stronger than she felt. “Please, continue.”

  The session carried on, but Arlith barely absorbed a word. By the time it concluded, she realized she had been lost in thought the entire time.

  She rose from her seat, shaking off the daze—only to flinch when a hand settled on her shoulder.

  “I can see that you are troubled, my lady.” The voice was measured, familiar. As she turned, she found herself face to face with the Nythari. Sorvin was nowhere in sight. “Would you care to discuss it in the library?”

  Arlith opened her mouth, but no words came. Her gaze flickered back to the Starshard. Its glow seemed stronger, calling to her, pulling her in.

  “I… I don’t know,” she admitted, feeling unmoored.

  For the first time, there was no father to guide her, no familiar hand to steady her path. This was something she had to face alone.

  With a deep breath, she gave a small nod and followed the Nythari into the unknown as the Starshard continued to glow.