Silver needles of rain fell over the ancient ruins of Varellon. Mist clung to the ground, curling around shattered statues and broken arches that had once served as the entrance to the fabled City of Spirits. Among the ruins stood a young woman, cloak wet and even breath against the cold night air. Her name was Kiara Aranor, a wanderer with eyes that shimmered dimly in the moon, eyes that knew sorrow and determination.
