Emberfall

Emberfall Village was a haven of simplicity, a quiet community bound by trust and tradition. Its cobbled streets and weathered homes nestled against the edge of the forest, where stories of yokai and spirit guides lingered like shadows at dusk. Few dared to venture far, for beyond the village lay the danger of the Kingdom of Avarice.

The Kingdom of Avarice was a place of dazzling wealth and ruthless ambition. Golden spires pierced the heavens, and its streets were alive with opulence: carriages trimmed in silver, markets gleaming with silk and gemstones, and nobles cloaked in arrogance. But beneath the shine lay the rot of greed, where power was both the prize and the weapon.

"Why do you look so tense, darling?" Kwentrith's voice was soft, but it held an edge of concern.

Vlad Tenebris, the king of this gilded empire, turned from the window, his face shadowed. "I had a prophecy."

Her brow furrowed. "A prophecy? What kind of prophecy?"

He hesitated, his hand tightening on the windowsill. "I saw a figure cloaked in black flames. It will rise to overthrow me, to bring chaos and destruction—not just to me, but to the kingdom. To the entire world." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Everything will burn. Nothing will remain but ash."

Before Kwentrith could respond, a cold wind swept through the chamber, extinguishing the candles. A piercing cry echoed, and a white owl glided through the open window.

Its feathers shimmered unnaturally in the dim light, marked with jagged streaks of black that looked more like scars than patterns. Four eyes, as dark and endless as the void, blinked in eerie unison as it perched on Vlad's broad shoulder.

The king stilled, his breathing shallow. The owl tilted its head, as though listening to the unspoken fears within him.

"What does it mean?" Kwentrith whispered, her voice trembling.

"It means," Vlad said, his gaze fixed on the owl, "that the end has already begun."