In the heart of the night, when iron melted and the sky screamed in pain, the only thing that remained was a gemstone that mocked the fire—as if the flames had risen not to destroy it, but to prove its immortality. Flesh and bone may turn to ashes in the wind of time, but a myth cannot be killed by a blade of steel, for a myth flows in the blood of generations and rises again from its own ashes each time. What seems to be an end is, in truth, the birth of the flame; a death that is itself a new beginning, and in the womb of every destruction lies a seed of eternity. The undying flame blazes not in iron, but in the human soul, and no sword can ever extinguish it.
THEDAWN OF ALEGEND
From the cracked stone, a tender shoot of hope arises A commander born from this soil,...
