The wind tore across the ruins of the old fortress, carrying whispers of forgotten screams and the faint scent of burning wood. The sky above Elion was a heavy gray, suffocating and oppressive, as if the heavens themselves mourned the devastation left behind by war. Broken walls leaned at impossible angles, shattered statues gaped with silent mouths, and the roads were cracked and littered with rubble. The city had once stood as a symbol of power and glory, now, it was little more than bones and dust.
Serafin stood atop a hill overlooking the wreckage, his coat whipping around him in the gusts. Once a soldier loyal to the king, he now carried a burden heavier than any sword, a cataclysm he had unleashed without meaning to. The prophecy haunted him, its words etched into his mind with relentless clarity. He was the Bearer of the Cataclysm, a living weapon of destruction, and no one knew. Not the kings, not the people, not even himself fully.
Yet war had not shaped him alone. It was her, the girl with eyes burning like coals in the night. Kaelya. She had appeared in his life at the exact moment it could be torn from him, changing everything.
They had crossed paths under the shadow of prophecy. He, scarred by battles and bloodshed; she, an assassin bound by secrets older than kingdoms. Together, they hunted a tyrant enslaved by vile magic, though neither fully understood the forces that moved them. Shadows of the past seemed to follow every step they took, whispering warnings of futures yet to come.
Serafin clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms. The man they sought had once been a king, a leader who inspired loyalty and love, now twisted by corruption into something monstrous. To stop him, Serafin would have to confront the truth of his own soul and the ancient, dangerous power rising within him.
"Are you ready, Serafin?" Kaelya's voice cut through the wind, sharp and unyielding like a blade.
He turned. Her eyes, deep pools of rage and sorrow, met his. Beneath the fire, there lingered a promise, redemption… or damnation.
"I must kill him," he said, voice trembling, "but… I don't know if I'm the one meant to do it."
Kaelya's lips curved into a bitter smile. "No one ever said truth was easy to bear. But we go on. Even if it breaks us."
The wind roared louder, lifting dust and shards of stone, as though the ruins themselves were trying to warn them. Secrets lay dormant in the shadows, waiting to awaken. The prophecy, the Bearers, the Ancients… soon, the weight of the world would rest on their shoulders.
A shadow flickered across the broken stones, a movement too fluid, too deliberate to be random. Serafin's senses sharpened. Somewhere in the ruins, eyes watched them, patient and unyielding.
Kaelya stepped closer, her hand brushing the hilt of her dagger. "Did you feel that?"
"Someone's here," Serafin said, scanning the jagged rubble. "And they're not far."
The shadow became a figure, stepping fully into view. A humanoid, almost ethereal, glowing faintly in the gray light. Its eyes were a luminous silver, cutting through the gloom, unblinking and knowing. Kaelya tensed immediately, dagger ready, but Serafin held her back with a gentle yet firm hand.
"It's not an enemy," he whispered.
The figure moved closer, the air around it seeming to bend and hum. When it spoke, its voice was deep and resonant, layered like countless whispers overlapping.
"The weight of the world rests upon your shoulders, Bearer of the Cataclysm. The Ancients know what you seek, and you cannot escape your destiny."
Serafin's chest tightened. He had heard tales of the Ancients, but never had he imagined encountering one. The prophecy had been a story whispered among scholars and seers—but now it breathed, solid and alive before him.
"Who… who are you?" he asked, though the question felt unnecessary. The answer already seemed to echo in the pit of his stomach.
"I am one of the Bearers," the figure said, voice heavy with centuries of sorrow. "Created to channel the magic of the worlds, and to maintain balance. You, Serafin, are the key to all."
Kaelya's gaze sharpened. "The key to what?"
"The key to renewal, or annihilation," it replied, each word landing like a stone on Serafin's chest. "Within you lies the lineage of the Ancients and the blood of humanity. If unleashed recklessly, chaos will consume everything."
Serafin's knees felt weak. His mind spun. This burden, this responsibility, it was beyond him, beyond comprehension.
"And Kaelya?" he whispered.
The figure turned its piercing gaze to her. "She is the keeper of secrets, your guide and your test. Her path is intertwined with yours. The choices she makes will shape your journey, as yours will shape hers. Together, you carry the hope, and the doom, of worlds."
A long silence stretched between them. The wind whispered, carrying faint echoes of voices long dead. Stars blinked out above, as if the universe itself waited for their next move.
"Go," the figure said, voice fading into the shadows. "Discover who you truly are."
Then it vanished. Just like that, leaving Serafin and Kaelya alone among the ruins, shadows stretching like dark fingers across the broken land.
Serafin swallowed hard, heart hammering in his chest. The prophecy was no longer a legend. It was real. And now, it was theirs to live or to die by.
A distant scream echoed across the valley, carried by the wind. Serafin turned to Kaelya.
"We should move," he said. "Whatever's coming, it won't wait for us to be ready."
Kaelya's hand found his arm. "Then let's not be late."
The ruins seemed to shift around them, alive with secrets and threats unseen. And somewhere, deep in the shadows, something watched. Waiting.