This audiobook is narrated by a digital voice.

The morning mist clung to the ancient cobblestones of Valdris like ghostly fingers, reluctant to release their grip on the sleeping village. Lyralei had always found comfort in these quiet hours before dawn, when the world held its breath and magic seemed to shimmer just beneath the surface of ordinary things. She moved silently through the narrow streets, her dark cloak billowing behind her as she made her way to the forest's edge.

At seventeen, Lyralei possessed an otherworldly beauty that made the village elders whisper behind closed doors. Her raven-black hair cascaded in waves down her back, and her eyes held the deep green of emeralds touched by starlight. But it was not her appearance that truly set her apart—it was the power that hummed beneath her skin like a caged tempest, growing stronger with each passing day.

The ancient oak that marked the boundary between the mortal realm and the Whispering Wood stood sentinel in the pale morning light. Its gnarled trunk bore the scars of countless seasons, and its roots delved deep into earth that remembered the footsteps of gods. Lyralei pressed her palm against the rough bark, feeling the tree's ancient consciousness stir in response to her touch.

"You feel it too, don't you?" she whispered. "The change coming."

The oak's leaves rustled without wind, and Lyralei closed her eyes, allowing her awareness to expand beyond the boundaries of her physical form. In this state, she could sense the ebb and flow of magical currents that ran like hidden rivers through the world. Today, those currents felt different—charged with an energy that made her very bones vibrate with anticipation.