Five hundred years before the five travelers set foot in Eldrath, crowns weighed less than promises, and borders existed only to separate landscapes, not peoples. Eldrath breathed united, sustained by the alliance of eight kingdoms that shared the same sky and the same hope. King Aldorin had dreamed of building a union that would last more than a lifetime—a world where the strength of each land would be the protection of all. But peace, fragile when resting on one hand, shattered the instant he closed his eyes. Death was not natural; the silence that surrounded it was no accident. And when Aldren III, his brother, took the throne even before the body was laid to rest, the shadow of lies spread across valleys and mountains, across seas and deserts, covering everything with the cold cloak of fear. It was not a war of one people against another. It was a choice: between submitting to the power that devours or rising up for the truth that liberates.
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