Lenah Vorn: The Emberblade.

They say she was born from a wound in the sky.

When the heavens bled fire over the northern peaks, a child emerged from the crater — untouched by flame, her cries echoing like thunder across the snow. The monks of Tyrhal found her and called her Lenah, which in their tongue meant “the spark that endures.”

But sparks don’t endure. They become wildfires.

By the time she reached womanhood, Lenah had uncovered what the monks feared: her blood was not human. It burned. And when she first touched the sword buried beneath the monastery — the Emberblade, said to be forged from the heart of a fallen star — the mountain itself began to tremble.

Now, years later, she roams the borderlands in exile. Rain hisses against her skin as she moves through ruins that still whisper her name. The sword hums softly, alive and hungry, drinking lightning from the sky.

Some call her the Daughter of the Pyre. Others call her the Harbinger of the Dawnstorm.

But Lenah knows the truth.

She was never chosen by the flame.
She is its final incarnation — the last memory of a dying sun.