This audiobook is narrated by a digital voice.

The ancient throne room of Aethermoor had not seen a rightful ruler for three hundred years. Where once the Divine Throne had blazed with celestial fire, now only cold obsidian remained, its surface cracked and lifeless. The very air seemed to mourn the absence of divine authority, hanging heavy with the weight of unfulfilled destiny.

Seraphina Dawnweaver stood before the empty throne, her silver robes rustling in the ethereal breeze that perpetually swept through the abandoned palace. As the last of the Starkeeper bloodline, she bore the burden of a prophecy that had haunted her family for generations. The Mark of the Cosmos, a constellation of seven silver stars that adorned her left temple, pulsed with faint light—a reminder of the power that coursed through her veins and the responsibility that came with it.

"The stars grow dimmer each night," whispered Elder Matthias, his weathered hands clasped behind his back as he joined her in contemplation. The old sage had been her mentor since childhood, teaching her the ways of celestial magic when others had feared her abilities. "Without the Divine Throne's light to anchor them, the very fabric of our realm grows weak."

Seraphina nodded solemnly, her fingers tracing the air in practiced patterns. Tiny motes of starlight danced between her fingertips, responding to her will with the fluidity of long practice. Yet even her considerable power felt insufficient when measured against the magnitude of their crisis. The realm of Aethermoor existed between the mortal world and the celestial planes, serving as a bridge between earth and heaven. Without a crowned ruler to maintain the balance, that bridge was crumbling.

"Tell me again about the Fragments," she requested, though she had heard the tale countless times. Sometimes repetition brought clarity, and clarity was desperately needed.