The night the Blossom Ascendant stirred, the sky wept a single tear.
Before the rains came, before the storm swallowed the world, one drop struck the window of a forgotten house—where a little girl sat awake in the dark.
She pressed her hand to the glass. The tear slid against her palm and vanished into her skin.
Outside, thunder roared like a beast. Lightning clawed the sky. She buried herself beneath a threadbare blanket, as if cloth could protect her from the powers already moving through the world.
Far across the wilds, a boy poured poison into an old well, cursing the blood in his veins and the monsters who had shaped him.
The drop he spilled and the drop she caught were enough.
Enough to wake the roots beneath the earth.Enough to crack open the old stories buried in blood and sorrow.Enough to call down a destiny older than kings or crowns.
Neither child knew what they had summoned.Neither child knew they had already begun a war.
Above them, among the cold and distant stars, something ancient opened its eyes.
The Blossom Ascendant breathed once more.