The atmosphere inside the **Greenwood Archives** remained heavy even after Commander Aerion carefully rolled the ancient scroll closed.
For several moments, no one spoke.
The prophecy lingered in the air like an echo in a forgotten temple.
*When shadow takes wing and devours the flame…*
*When the tenth threshold trembles…*
*The path beyond the summit shall open.*
Lythriel finally broke the silence with a long sigh.
"Well," she said, stretching her arms behind her head, "that wasn't ominous at all."
Sylvara shook her head with a soft smile.
"You always react like that to ancient prophecies."
"Because they're always dramatic," Lythriel replied. "Why can't a prophecy ever say something simple like *'good things will happen'*?"
John shifted his massive body slightly, his obsidian scales scraping softly across the stone floor of the archive chamber.
"You're all assuming the prophecy is about me."
Lythriel gave him a flat stare.
"You're a shadow dragon."
"Yes."
