The morning of Solara's eighteenth birthday dawned with a sky that was wrong.
She stood on the cliffs above the harbor, watching the sun struggle to rise through a haze of gray. The light was weak. Uncertain. The colors were muted. The world felt... diminished.
The sword hung at her hip. The blade had been silent for years. But now it stirred. A faint pulse. A whisper of something long dormant.
She had carried the legacy for eighteen years. She had trained. She had studied. She had prepared. But she had never faced the darkness. Not truly. Not like her ancestors.
The darkness had been quiet. Too quiet.
Lira appeared beside her. Her mother's hair was streaked with gray now, but her eyes were still warm.
"You're up early."
"Couldn't sleep. Something's wrong."
"What do you mean?"
"I
