It began with silence.
Not the peaceful kind, but the heavy, waiting silence before a storm destroys everything in its path. Aetherhold held its breath. Every flame stood still. The sky turned pale, as if the heavens themselves had drawn back, bracing for what came next.
And then, the scream of light.
It tore across the sky like a blade through parchment—a pillar of golden fire descending from the clouds. It wasn't fire born of warmth or rage. It was divine. Hollow. Cold.
It struck the west wing of the citadel and shattered stone like glass.
Selena barely reached the war balcony before the second strike came. She didn't flinch. Around her, alarms blared, walls trembled, towers cracked. The heavens had made their move.
The war had begun.
