Prologue

Astraia ran. Her breathing strong and steady through the cloth that covered the lower half of her face. Muffled footsteps echoing off the dimly seen canyon walls to each side. Canyon walls made of the charred and twisted remains of what was once the great city of Orichal. As Astraia looked from the corner of her eye, she could almost see the soaring spires, the graceful arc of the bridges that crossed the broad river Thein. But then, Astraia stumbled over some detritus and the reality of the aftermath of the Godswars came sharply back into focus.   The scars on her forearms started to itch every so slightly. Astraia gave a furtive glance back but saw nothing. Then, the scars started to emit a dim, deep red glow. As they lit up, they took on the appearance of flames climbing up from her wrists to her elbows. There was no mistaking it. They were getting closer now. And so, Astraia ran.