The message arrived at dawn, carved into the stone of the community center's foundation, the letters glowing with an inner fire that refused to fade.
Michael found it during his morning walk, his eyes scanning the familiar streets of Ashenford. The city was peaceful, its people going about their daily lives, unaware of the darkness that was gathering on the horizon. The carving was deep, the letters sharp and precise, and they glowed with a heat that warmed the air around them.
THE FIRST FLAME HAS AWAKENED. THE HOLLOW PUNCH WILL FALL. THE WORLD WILL BURN.
Michael stepped back, his hand instinctively reaching for the blade at his side. The heat from the letters was intense, the glow pulsing like a heartbeat. Whoever had done this was skilled, patient, and possessed a power that Michael h
