This audiobook is narrated by a digital voice.

The morning mist clung to the valley like ancient memories, swirling around the stone cottages of Eldenheart as if reluctant to release its hold on the sleeping village. Lyra Moonshadow pressed her face against the cool glass of her bedroom window, watching the ethereal dance of vapor and light. At seventeen, she had witnessed this daily ritual countless times, yet something felt different today—a tremor in the very fabric of the world that made her silver eyes shimmer with an otherworldly gleam.

"Lyra, breakfast is ready," called her grandmother Elara from below, her voice carrying the warmth of honey and the wisdom of centuries. The old woman had raised Lyra since infancy, when mysterious circumstances had brought the child to her doorstep on a night when three moons aligned in the sky.

Descending the narrow wooden stairs, Lyra paused at the mirror in the hallway. Her reflection showed features that had always marked her as different from the other villagers—the silvery hair that caught light like moonbeams, the pale luminescent skin, and those extraordinary eyes that seemed to hold depths of starlight. The village children had whispered about her strangeness for years, though never with malice, only with the reverence reserved for things beyond their understanding.

"You look troubled, my dear," Elara observed as Lyra entered the kitchen. The elderly woman's gnarled hands worked deftly, preparing a breakfast of fresh bread, wild honey, and herbs that filled the room with their aromatic essence. "Did you have the dream again?"