The moon hung high in the sky, casting cold silver light over the shattered gates of Vorn. Once a bustling city of merchants, scholars, and artisans, it now lay in ruins, a grim testament to the tyranny that had passed through. Smoke curled from the charred remnants of homes. Broken carts littered the streets, and the echoes of unseen horrors carried in the wind.
Serafin moved forward cautiously, boots crunching over shattered stones. His gaze scanned the horizon, every shadow threatening to conceal a foe. Among the ruins, whispers seemed to stir, soft, layered voices that he could almost understand. The voices of the Ancients. The Bearers. Legends he had half-forgotten, stories whispered to scare children into obedience. And yet, now, they clawed at the edges of his mind, demanding attention. He… he was one of them. He had always been, without realizing it.
Kaelya walked beside him, silent and alert. Her silhouette was a dark smear against the silver moonlight. She appeared unshaken by the devastation, as if she had walked through a hundred wars and emerged untouched. Yet Serafin knew the weight she carried. Years of survival, sacrifice, and secrets bound her as tightly as his own burdens bound him.
"The city looks dead," he murmured. "Like everything else."
Kaelya's gaze met his, sharp and piercing. "It's not the city that's dead, Serafin. It's hope." She paused, letting the words sink in. "Sometimes, it's harder to kill hope than to kill a man."
He swallowed, tasting the bitterness in her voice. They walked on, their steps echoing through deserted streets, the air thick with ash and the ghostly scent of fire. Every broken wall, every collapsed roof whispered reminders of what had been lost, and of what might yet be destroyed.
Ahead, the remains of the royal walls loomed, jagged, imposing, half-swallowed by ruin. Serafin felt a chill run down his spine, as though unseen eyes were tracking him. Then movement flickered from the shadows.
Kaelya stiffened, hand moving to the hilt of her dagger. Serafin held her back, fingers brushing hers lightly but firmly.
"It's not an enemy," he said, voice low but steady.
The figure stepped forward, emerging from darkness with an otherworldly grace. Tall, humanoid, almost translucent in the moonlight, with eyes that glowed like molten silver. The air around it seemed to hum, a faint vibration that resonated with the very marrow of Serafin's bones.
When it spoke, the voice was deep, layered, and impossible to ignore. Each word seemed to strike at the heart itself.
"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 breath hitched. He had heard the stories, the Ancients, mysterious beings of power, the architects of balance and chaos alike, but he had never imagined facing one. The tales had been myths, warnings, riddles for children. Now, here it was, real, and all-encompassing.
"Who… who are you?" he asked, though he already feared the answer.
"I am one of the Bearers," the figure said, voice tinged with centuries of sorrow. "Created to channel the magic of the worlds, and to maintain balance. You, Serafin, are the key to it all."
Kaelya's dark eyes narrowed. "The key to what?"
"The key to renewal, or annihilation," it replied, each word a hammer upon his chest. "Within you lies the lineage of the Ancients, intertwined with the blood of humanity. If your power is unleashed recklessly, all will fall. Cities, kingdoms, lives… everything you know will burn."
Serafin felt the weight of the revelation like a physical blow. He had always carried a sense of doom, but now the scope was clear. The prophecy was not a legend, it was a warning, and he was at its center.
"And Kaelya?" he whispered, almost fearing the answer.
The figure's glowing gaze shifted to her. "She is the keeper of secrets, your guide and your test. Her path is intertwined with yours. Every choice she makes will shape your journey, just as your choices will shape hers. Together, you carry the hope, and the doom, of worlds."
Serafin's stomach churned. The bond he shared with Kaelya, forged through years of hardship, now carried stakes he had never imagined.
"Why us?" he asked. "Why now?"
"Because the cycles must be broken, or they will consume everything," the figure replied, voice echoing in the empty streets. "The Ancients foresaw your coming, but foresight alone cannot stop what is already in motion. Only action… and sacrifice… can change the outcome."
A long silence followed. The wind whispered through shattered roofs, carrying the faint scent of smoke and ash. Above, the stars seemed to blink out one by one, as if the universe itself waited for their next move.
Serafin's gaze drifted to Kaelya. Despite her stoic expression, he could see the tension in her posture, the subtle twitch of her fingers, the quiet determination burning behind her eyes. She understood the burden, perhaps better than he did.
"Go," the figure said finally, voice fading like a distant echo. "Discover who you truly are."
Then it vanished, leaving them alone in the ruins. The silence pressed down on them like a living thing. Serafin's heart pounded. The prophecy was no longer a story, it was reality.
He turned to Kaelya. "We need to move. Whatever waits for us, it won't wait for us to be ready."
Kaelya's hand brushed his arm, a simple gesture full of weight. "Then let's not be late," she said.
The shadows seemed to stretch longer, coiling around the ruins like dark tendrils. Somewhere, unseen, eyes watched, waiting for the first misstep. Serafin took a deep breath, steeling himself. They were not just survivors anymore. They were the bearers of destiny, and the world would soon know their power.