This audiobook is narrated by a digital voice.

The morning mist clung to the sacred grove like the breath of sleeping gods, and within its ethereal embrace, Lyra Stormheart felt the weight of destiny pressing against her soul. She knelt before the ancient oak whose roots were said to drink from the wellspring of prophecy itself, her silver armor gleaming with an otherworldly light that seemed to emanate from within the metal rather than reflect the pale dawn.

"Rise, daughter of thunder," came a voice that resonated not through the air but directly into her consciousness. The oak's massive trunk began to shimmer, and from its bark emerged the translucent form of Verdania, the goddess of wisdom and warfare. Her eyes held the depth of centuries, and her flowing robes seemed woven from moonlight and starfire.

Lyra rose gracefully, her hand instinctively moving to the hilt of Stormbreaker, the legendary sword that had been forged in the heart of a dying star. The weapon hummed with contained lightning, responding to the divine presence before them. "My lady," she said, inclining her head with the respect due to one of the seven prime deities of the pantheon.

"The balance grows thin," Verdania said, her voice carrying undertones of cosmic concern. "My brother Malachar has grown too bold in his ambitions. The mortal realm suffers under the weight of his manipulations, and even now, he gathers champions to serve his dark purpose."

The goddess gestured, and the mist around them swirled into images: cities burning under unnatural storms, crops withering in fields that should have been fertile, and armies marching under banners that bore the twisted sigil of the god of destruction and chaos. Lyra's jaw tightened as she witnessed the suffering that Malachar's influence had brought to the world below.