The world did not change the day Ignivar was born.
That was the lie history would later tell.
In truth, the world hesitated.
Deep beneath the cracked plains of the Ashen Expanse, where magma veins pulsed like the arteries of a dying god, an egg rested in silence. No heat escaped it. No flame leaked from its shell. It absorbed everything—fire, pressure, rage—as if learning the language of destruction before speaking it.
When the shell finally cracked, there was no explosion.
Only a breath.
White flame curled inward, not outward, forming a mane that shimmered like condensed starlight. Two eyes opened—golden, clear, and unsettlingly calm.
Ignivar did not roar.
He observed.
The magma recoiled.
Far above, in a nameless sect whose elders still argued over territory lines and spirit stones, a cultivator paused mid-meditation. His heart skipped for reasons he could not name.
Something had entered the world.
Ignivar took his first step and scorched nothing.
That was the first omen.
His second step cracked the ground—not from heat, but from weight. The land recognized him as something heavier than itself.
Instinct urged him to burn. To dominate. To reduce.
Instead, he sat.
And waited.
Hours later, foxfire bloomed at the edge of the expanse.
Aurelyn emerged softly, paws barely touching the ground. Her flames were pale gold, trailing like falling petals rather than sparks. Where Ignivar's presence pressed reality, hers soothed it.
She tilted her head, studying the lion cub who radiated restraint instead of chaos.
Their flames brushed.
Neither yielded.
Somewhere deep within the world's unseen structure, a thread tightened.
Verdan arrived last.
He did not appear so much as become noticeable.
A massive shell eased into existence behind them, etched with faint green sigils that pulsed in rhythm with the land itself. Where he stood, fractures sealed. Where magma churned, it stilled.
Verdan lowered his head.
The ground exhaled.
Three beasts—none yet aware of realms, laws, or destiny—stood together beneath a sky that had begun to watch them back.
High above, beyond clouds and stars, something ancient shifted its gaze.
"Too early," it murmured.
"And yet… already balanced."
The first page of heaven turned.
And the story began.