The sky burned crimson as the gates of Oblivion cracked open. Elira, a lone elf warrior, stood atop the ancient cliff, wind tugging at her silver cloak. Her blade shimmered with runes of old. Below, shadows stirred—demons clawing into her world. She tightened her grip, heart steady, eyes fierce. In the sacred grove, she whispered the battle chant of her ancestors. Light flared in her palms. She was not just a warrior—she was the last ward between peace and chaos. Tonight, the elf would...
