Prologue

As the watchman scanned the horizon from atop the northern ramparts, his eyes suddenly went wide.
"Blue field... golden lion!" he shouted. "The Ravenspire banner!" Orders rang out one after another along the walls, echoing like an alarm.
"Open the gates!"
"Sound the horns!"
"The Lord of Ravenspire approaches!"
Another soldier wasted no time and ran toward the courtyard.
"Ready a horse! Send word to His Grace the Duke! Quickly!"

Before long, the dust-covered messenger brought his horse to a stop in the palace's main courtyard. Breathless, he climbed the stairs and dropped to one knee before the Lord Chamberlain.
"My lord... the Lord of Ravenspire has entered through the northern gate with his company of guards. They'll be at the palace within minutes at most."
The Lord Chamberlain nodded.
"Have the guards fall into ceremonial order. Ready the stables. I'll inform His Grace the Duke myself."
He took up his staff and made his way through the long corridors, stopping to knock softly at the door of the study.
"Come in."
The Lord Chamberlain entered and bowed respectfully.
"Your Grace... your loyal vassal, Lord Alistair Thorne of Ravenspire, has reached our city with his guards. He's coming straight to the palace."
The Duke lifted his head from the map spread across his desk.
"Alistair? Without any word beforehand..."
His brow furrowed slightly.
"That isn't like him at all."
He rose to his feet.
"Prepare the inner courtyard. Have the guards take their positions. I'll receive him myself."

The guards at the palace's main gate suddenly burst into shouts.
"Open the gates!"
"Ravenspire's forces are approaching!"
The massive oak gates, reinforced with bands of iron, swung open with a heavy roar.
Thirty riders stormed into the courtyard like a gathering storm.
Hooves struck sparks off the stone ground, and the metallic clatter of armor echoed through the courtyard.
The black horse leading the charge came to an abrupt, forceful halt.
The man astride it leapt down without a moment's hesitation.
Lord Alistair Thorne's face bore the weariness of days of hard travel. His armor was caked in dust. His cloak was soaked through with mud. But what drew the eye wasn't his exhaustion, nor his appearance.
It was the fury in his eyes.
Everyone in the courtyard fell silent for a moment.
Alistair handed the reins to the stable hand who came running.
"Where is the Duke?"
The Captain of the Guard stepped forward and bowed.
"Welcome, my lord. His Grace is in his study. However, in accordance with formal protocol, first we must—"
"Protocol?"
Alistair's voice rang out across the entire courtyard.
"This is not the time to discuss protocol."
The guard stepped back, unable to help himself.
Without another word, Alistair turned toward the stairs.
Behind him, his elite guards followed in silence.
As he climbed the marble steps two and three at a time, the harsh clang of his armor echoed through the corridors.
At the end of the corridor, Lord Chamberlain Stan was waiting for them.
The moment he saw the Lord, his expression shifted.
"Lord Alistair..."
He hesitated for a moment.
"I've never seen you in such a state. Has some disaster befallen your county?"
Alistair didn't stop walking.
"This isn't about my county."
He closed the distance to Stan and looked him straight in the eye.
"This is far bigger than that."
Hearing the resolve in Alistair's voice, the Lord Chamberlain asked nothing further.
"His Grace is alone. Have your guards wait here. Only you will go inside."
He bowed his head and eased open the heavy oak door.
"Your Grace..."
The Duke lifted his head.
"Lord Alistair wishes to be received."
"Send him in."
The door swung fully open.
Alistair strode inside with heavy steps.
The door closed slowly behind him.
The truths spoken within that room would go on to shape not only the fates of two noblemen, but one day, the entire history of Aethelgard.

Aethelgard...
A world of seven continents, seven elements, and seven fates.
Centuries ago, a man tore the world apart.
History wrote him down as a monster.
Another rose from the wreckage of that destruction and was hailed as a hero.
But the truth... was never what it was told to be.
Now, Abyssia is opening its gates once more.
From among thousands of candidates chosen from every corner of the continents, only seven will earn the right to become "Heirs" — the ones who will carry the fate of the world.
And this selection... is not a prize.
It is a sacrifice.
Raven Thorne cannot recall a single moment of ever applying for a fate like this.
And yet, one morning, a sealed letter arrives in her hands, telling her she has been swept onto a road with no way back:
"The Roots have chosen you."
Her past shrouded in mist, her power unstable, and her life full of secrets, Raven finds herself standing at the very center of a world woven from lies.
Because Abyssia is not merely a school.
It is where the truth is buried.
Six Heirs have already been chosen.
Six fates are already bound to one another.
But the seventh...
The seventh Heir did not come to restore the balance.
She came to break it.
Because even when certain names are erased from history...
blood is never erased.
And some truths—
once they surface—
shatter not only the order of things,
but the truth itself.