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The Prophecy of the Blood and Vow
(Excerpt from the Book of the Veil — Fragment CXXII, preserved by Lady Thalindra Veyra)
> "When the stars burn black and the angels forget their names,
A child of ash and a daughter of light shall meet beneath the ruin of dawn.
Bound by vow, broken by blood, their souls shall awaken the sleeping fire.
One shall remember Heaven's grief; the other, Hell's desire.
Together they will unmake what the gods could not mend.
And from their bond, the world will bleed anew."
"Seek not the Heir, for his light blinds.
Seek not the Archivist, for her heart betrays.
When their hands touch, the Veil shall tear —
And the Old One shall look again upon creation."
Thus was it written, then burned, then forgotten.
But ink remembers what flame cannot.
And in the silence between heartbeats, prophecy breathes again."
(Translation sealed by Thalindra Veyra, Keeper of the Forbidden Texts.)
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Darkness dreamed.
And within it, something ancient stirred.
For centuries, the chamber had known only silence — a tomb built beneath the world, buried beneath layers of stone and forgotten prayers. Yet now, cracks began to form in its stillness. The air quivered. The dust rose in a slow spiral, as though exhaling for the first time in eons.
Chains hung from the ceiling — long, black, and scorched with divine sigils. They glowed faintly as warmth bled through them.
Then — a pulse.
The first heartbeat in a thousand years.
Lucien Vaelrith opened his eyes.
Light exploded.
It wasn't mortal fire — it was the raw light of creation itself, burning through the dark like molten dawn. It seared the sigils carved into his chest and shoulders, tracing celestial patterns across his skin. Each mark throbbed — pain, memory, command.
He drew breath, ragged and shallow. The air felt strange — thick with salt, stone, and the faint taste of blood. The last thing he remembered was the fall — the tearing of Heaven's gates, the voice that had whispered his name as the world ended.
Then — nothing.
Now, he lay on the cold altar of Aurelion's vault, surrounded by the remnants of divine wards long broken. His wrists were still shackled, the metal melted into his skin.
"Who… dares…" His voice came like thunder underwater. He had not spoken in lifetimes.
The chains answered with a groan.
Above him, the carved sigils of the ceiling shifted — the same ones Elaris had touched mere hours ago. They flared crimson, echoing her presence, responding to her blood.
Her name pressed itself into his mind like a whisper: Elaris.
The word carried warmth — a pull. A tether that did not exist before. His pulse stuttered; the light around him shimmered. Something ancient had been awakened — not by power, but by connection.
He strained against the chains. The metal screamed.
Fire erupted across his back, bursting from the sigils like shattered sunlight. No wings — only radiant lines of energy that fractured the air. The ground trembled.
When the last chain broke, the chamber flooded with brilliance. Statues crumbled, walls cracked, and the sky above — unseen for millennia — split open with light.
Lucien fell to his knees, gasping. The sigils dimmed slowly, settling into faint scars that still glowed from within.
He looked at his reflection in a shard of shattered obsidian. His eyes burned gold and red — twin embers of Heaven and Hell.
"I remember…" he whispered, touching his chest. "The vow…"
He could still feel her — the Archivist, somewhere above, her heartbeat like a soft echo in his mind.
He didn't know her face, yet her presence was carved into his blood like destiny.
Then came the whisper — the one that had haunted both Heaven and the Abyss:
> "Rise, Heir of Ash and Light. Your world awaits its ruin."
The sound came from the shadows that formed in the shape of a veil. Eyes shimmered there — uncountable, ancient, infinite. The Veiled One watched, unseen, smiling through eternity.
Lucien stood. The chains fell like rain at his feet. Around him, the ground split open, revealing the veins of the world — glowing rivers of molten gold.
He clenched his hand. The light obeyed.
Above, far above, the first bell of the Sanctum tolled — a sound that hadn't rung since the age of angels. Elaris heard it in her chambers and froze.
"The dust and the dawn," she whispered.
"The Heir has awakened."
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Far below, Lucien lifted his gaze to the crumbling ceiling and smiled faintly.
"Then let the gods remember what they tried to forget."