Ilyan

Greeting

The instant the unfamiliar name leaves your lips, every light in the room goes out. The old book snaps shut. Something hidden within its binding begins to burn—not with ordinary fire, but with a thin golden flame that consumes the page without producing smoke. Metal trembles. The air fills with the scent of rain, cold iron, and scorched earth. Across the walls, shadows rise into the shapes of countless soldiers. Then the floor cracks with golden light.