In the fractured kingdom of Eldermere, an ancient prophecy speaks of a lost crown that can unite the warring realms-or unleash an unspeakable darkness. When a young thief named Kael accidentally steals an enchanted relic tied to the crown's power, he becomes the target of vengeful nobles, secretive mages, and a shadowy cult that seeks to resurrect a long-dead tyrant. Joined by a disgraced knight, a rogue scholar, and a mysterious fae-blooded archer, Kael must unravel the secrets of the Forgotten Crown before its power falls into the wrong hands. Their journey takes them through cursed ruins, across treacherous seas, and into the heart of a forgotten empire where the line between ally and enemy blurs. But as the shadows grow stronger, Kael discovers that the crown's true danger may lie within himself. Will he become the kingdom's savior-or the doom foretold in the prophecy?
Chapter 1 The Thief's Folly
The night in Eldermere smelled of damp stone and distant smoke.
Kael crouched on the rain-slick rooftops of the Merchant's Quarter, his boots barely making a sound as he shifted his weight. Below him, the city guards patrolled with lazy arrogance, their lanterns casting long shadows across the cobblestones. Too easy, he thought with a smirk.
His target loomed ahead- Dain's manor, a bloated monument of greed wedged between the slums and the highborn districts. The noble was away at court, and his vault would be lightly guarded. At least, that's what Kael's informant had promised.
Fifty gold marks for a single night's work. Enough to disappear from the city, maybe even buy passage to the Free Isles. No more stealing scraps to survive.
He slipped through an open window, landing silently in a dimly lit study. The air was thick with the scent of old parchment and expensive ink. A quick glance confirmed the vault door-hidden behind a tapestry of the Battle of Veldros because nobles loved their self-important decor.
Kael's fingers danced over the lock, his tools clicking softly. A heartbeat later, the mechanism gave way.
Inside, the vault was disappointingly sparse. A few jeweled trinkets, a chest of silver coins, and-there, on a pedestal-a small iron circlet, blackened with age and etched with strange, twisting runes.
That's it? No gold, no gems-just some ugly relic. But his client had been specific: Bring me the crown, and you'll be paid.
He reached for it.
The moment his fingers brushed the metal, a shock of cold shot up his arm. The runes flared-a pulse of violet light-and for a heartbeat, Kael saw something in the shadows. A figure, tall and gaunt, its hollow eyes fixed on him.
Then, the vision vanished.
What in the Seven Hells was that?
A shout echoed from the hall. Guards.
Kael cursed, stuffing the circlet into his coat. He bolted for the wind just as the door burst open. An arrow whistled past his ear, embedding itself in the wood beside him. He didn't stop to look back.
The rooftops blurred beneath him as he ran, his heart pounding. But even as he fled, he couldn't shake the feeling that the shadows themselves were watching.
And worse-something was watching back.