Eclipsed Souls

The Mark of Fate

The village of Elden Hollow lay nestled between whispering forests and towering cliffs, a place where time seemed to move slower, untouched by the chaos of the outside world. But for Elara Nightbourne, peace had always felt like an illusion.

She sat on the edge of the riverbank, her fingers grazing the water’s surface. The current whispered to her—soft murmurs weaving through the rushing tide, voices just beyond comprehension. Sometimes, they spoke in fragmented echoes, a language she could almost understand, as if the river carried the memories of those long forgotten. Other times, they sounded like warnings, urgent yet indecipherable.

Tonight, the voices were stronger. More insistent.

"She awakens."

"The stars align."

"Shadows move… the hunt begins."

A sudden coldness seeped into her bones, as if the water had turned to ice beneath her touch. The sensation was more than just fear—it was a pull, a tether to something vast and unseen. Images flickered through her mind like reflections on the water’s surface: a crown of silver and obsidian, a hand reaching toward fire, a looming figure cloaked in darkness.

Her heart pounded.

A shiver ran down her spine as an unsettling presence wrapped around her. Something was coming.

“Elara!” A familiar voice called, shattering the eerie silence.

She gasped, her connection to the current breaking as she turned sharply. It was Mira, the healer’s daughter. Her dark curls bounced as she ran toward Elara, eyes wide with urgency.

“The village elders—they want to see you.”

Elara frowned. “Why?”

Mira hesitated, shifting uneasily. “There was an omen last night. The seer had a vision… of fire and shadows. And your name was spoken.”

Dread coiled in Elara’s stomach. It wasn’t the first time strange things had been said about her, nor the first time the elders had summoned her with wary eyes and whispered fears.

She glanced back at the river. The voices were gone, swallowed by the current as if they had never been there. But the warning they carried lingered in her chest.

Something had changed.

And she wasn’t sure she was ready for what came next.

Meanwhile…

Miles away, within the obsidian walls of the Dark Dominion, Prince Darius Valtheron stood before his father, the King of Shadows. The throne room was cold, lit only by floating embers of cursed fire.

“The heir of Aetheris lives,” the king growled, his voice like grinding stone. “And you, my son, will find them. The lost heir must not reclaim their throne.”

Darius’s jaw clenched. “It will be done.”

He had been trained for war, raised in blood and steel. Aetheris was an old wound on the Dark Dominion’s pride—a kingdom lost to time, but never truly forgotten. If its heir had survived, they posed a threat to everything his kingdom stood for.

With his orders given, Darius stepped into the night, unaware that the fate he had sworn to destroy was already pulling him toward an inescapable destiny.