Matrim Kaelen stood at the outskirts of Silvermoon, gazing at the spires that rose toward the heavens, bathed in the eternal glow of the Sunwell. The city gleamed like a living thing, its lights flickering like embers from the heart of the world. To most, it was a city of beauty and power, where the promise of magic and prosperity flowed as freely as the streets themselves. But to him, it was just another place to survive.

  He had wandered countless lands, a man without a home, a man without a purpose. The life of a mercenary was one of constant movement, never staying long enough in one place to put down roots. It was easier that way—better to remain a shadow, distant from those who would try to pull him into their world.

  But Silvermoon was different. It had called to him, quietly, persistently, like a whisper on the wind. He couldn’t explain it, not in any logical way. He’d come to the city with no plan, no real reason other than a sense that something awaited him here, something he couldn’t turn away from.

  The pull had started with a dream, or rather, a series of them—a strange and disjointed vision, glimpses of a city bathed in light, followed by a sudden, suffocating darkness. In each dream, he was walking through Silvermoon’s streets, yet it felt unfamiliar, even though he had never been here before. A voice called to him, distant, yet echoing in his very bones, urging him to seek something within the city’s walls. What that something was, he still didn’t know.

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  He had tried to ignore it, dismiss it as just another echo of his restless mind. But the dreams only grew more vivid, more insistent. And so, here he was, standing before the gates, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword. The weight of it was familiar, but for the first time in a long while, it felt less like an ally and more like a burden.

  Silvermoon was a city of light, yes, but it was also a city of secrets. Matrim could feel it in the very air, a subtle undercurrent of something unseen. It was as if the city itself had a pulse—a rhythm that called to him, urging him to follow, to learn what lay beneath the surface. But the more he tried to push it away, the stronger the pull became.

  He wasn’t sure if he wanted to understand it or if he was afraid of what he might uncover. In all his years of wandering, he had never known a place like this. There was a danger here, an unseen threat that lurked beneath the gleaming exterior. Something was wrong in Silvermoon, and Matrim couldn’t shake the feeling that he was meant to be here, even if he didn’t know why.

  As the gates of Silvermoon opened before him, Matrim took a step forward. The path ahead was uncertain, as it always had been. But now, for the first time in a long while, he felt that he was walking toward something. Something that would change everything. Whether that change would be for better or worse, he didn’t know.

  But the city had called him, and Matrim Kaelen had never been one to turn away from a call.