Chapter One: The Village Beneath the Storm
In the heart of the Windoria Valley, surrounded by towering cliffs and whispering forests, lay the village of Ilthar—a small yet resilient settlement, known for its fierce warriors and unyielding traditions. And within its modest borders, the dreams of one girl burned brighter than the torches lighting the village at night.
Nevaira, a silver-haired teenager with mismatched eyes—one crimson-black and the other a glowing blue—stood on the training platform, her breath forming small clouds in the crisp morning air. Her eyes, mysterious and flecked with star-like marks, were both feared and admired. To the villagers, Nevaira was an enigma: an orphan girl of unknown lineage, trained personally by none other than the former Grand Warlord—General Kael.
In Ilthar, power did not pass by blood—it was earned through strength. The title of "Morka," the highest rank of leadership in the land, was granted only to those who passed the Trials of Ascension and proved themselves capable of leading with unmatched might. The Morka were more than rulers—they were legends. Each wielded overwhelming power, refined through battle and spiritual mastery.
Only eight individuals had ever held the title of Morka. But now, only the Seventh and Eighth Morka remained. The others perished under mysterious and devastating circumstances. Their names, however, were not forgotten—they were carved into the Great Wall that overlooked Ilthar, a constant reminder of the power and price of greatness.
Ilthar's training system centered around squads, where young warriors were grouped in threes. Nevaira belonged to Squad Eight, alongside her loyal friend Lyra and the village's admired prodigy, Kain. Their mentor, General Kael, was once the First Morka, a warrior whose strength shook the very heavens. Many in the village believed Squad Eight was unfairly privileged.
But Nevaira's life was far from easy. Behind her calm eyes, she battled dizzy spells, piercing headaches, and sudden fainting episodes she blamed on anemia. Only she knew how often the world spun before her and her vision blurred.
One day, during a routine forest training session, the unthinkable happened. As Nevaira parried an incoming strike from Lyra, a strange, blue energy burst from her hand—like flames of the night—and grazed Lyra's cheek, drawing blood. Silence fell instantly. Kain froze in disbelief. Lyra winced but kept her eyes locked on Nevaira's trembling hand.
That was the first time Nevaira touched the edge of her true power.
Unbeknownst to her, entities from another realm stirred. The Linarians—an extinct race once capable of manipulating a pure cosmic energy—were believed to have perished. Their power, centered around the core known as Linara, vanished during the Great Purge, when all who wielded it were eradicated.
But one survivor remained.
And there she stood, trembling, as the blue fire danced between her fingers.
The Council of Elders—guardians of tradition and ancient secrets—watched from afar. Nevaira's awakening had not gone unnoticed. And in the shadows, a figure clad in foreign armor, with eyes burning like flame, watched her closely.
War was coming. And Nevaira would be the key to it all.