Revenge

The wind screamed through the jagged cliffs of Virellia, where lightning danced over the shattered spires of Duskhold. Once a proud sanctuary of sky-mages, the fortress now stood in ruin—its towers blackened, its halls silent but for the whispers of restless spirits. Few dared approach the place, not because of the storm, but because of the curse left behind when the bloodline of House Kaerith was betrayed and slaughtered. But on this night, beneath the cloak of thunderclouds, a lone figure approached the gates. Eira Kaerith had returned. Exiled as a child, raised by outlaws and mystics, she bore the mark of her fallen house across her back like a scar. Her eyes burned not with grief—but with the cold fire of revenge. She had come not just to reclaim her home, but to bury the ones who had taken it, and awaken the powers buried deep within the mountain stone. The wards around Duskhold trembled at her presence. Old magics stirred. And somewhere deep in the heart of the fortress, something ancient and hungry began to rise—something that remembered her name.