He placed his trembling hand upon the cold stone, feeling the faint thrum of an ancient power thrumming beneath. The altar was a relic from the forgotten age of the Nibra, a civilization whose name was erased from every scroll, whose language was spoken only by the wind that rattled the palace’s hidden corridors.

“Show me,” he whispered, his voice barely a breath against the marble. “Show me the truth you hide.”

The Shadow, unseen now, whispered a final promise to the wind: A ruler who knows the darkness can become the light that guides the world.