My brow creases.I look inward, my mind a carousel of library and ink.I see the books stacked on my desk, the hand-drawn diagrams blurring past in a whirl of cream and black.
Then, there.I see the scripture as clearly as if I held the vellum.
My gaze travels back to her, the air suddenly thick with the rich, loamy scent of damp earth, sliced through by the silver sting of sage.
“That line…it wasn’t in the text I read.”
She looks to Seren and passes her a ragged, moth-eaten satchel.Seren’s eyes widen, her expression softening into a warm, golden hum of gratitude.
“Look within, child.Find the parchment I left for you.”
Seren sets the bag down.The parchment she removes is old, stained yellow from the years.It unrolls with a thirsty crackle.
“Read it aloud,” Yara demands.
“I—I tried to read it before, but I couldn’t.It’s in a language I don’t recognise,” Seren says, her voice tight.But as she looks, creases at her eyes smooth out, her pupils widening until the whites are swallowed with shock.
“I can read it now,” she whispers, the words laced in awe.The ink on the page seems to squirm, recognising her, the letters clicking into place.
“Go on, child,” Yara urges.
Seren reads, her voice carrying a low, purring resonance that vibrates in the cavern walls:
“When the daughter walks in borrowed flesh,
The stars shall bleed, the light confess.
Three doors shall open, bound by one,
Moon to Mother, Shadow to Sun.
Beneath the world, the heart will wake?—
And what was buried, the dark shall take.
Light’s own child carrying a shadow brand,
Shall bridge the worlds by unwilling hand.”
The final line hangs in the air, the cavern walls listening with sharp intent.Seren’s eyes search mine for answers I don’t have—answers that feel like shards of glass in my mind.
This can’t be true.
Yara steps closer.Her proximity forces my vision to anchor on her sightless eyes—clouded skies where flecks of blue perform a restless, chaotic dance.Suddenly, the dancing stops.Her gaze becomes a vacuum, drawing me into the very core of her.
Your gods edited you, Lightborne.Her voice doesn’t hit my ears; it speaks in the dark corners, tasting of old copper and secrets.
I flinch, but the connection is a vice of cold silk.Why is everyone able to access my mind so easily?
Her head tilts, catching the unspoken shape of my question.
Your shadow-mark is growing, the stronger our Divine Mother becomes.The words echo, reverberating through my flesh, and twisting a thorny chill around my spine.
What will happen to me?My voice is a soundless white flare at the surface of my consciousness.
What is destined of you, my boy.
She lets go, untethering my soul.The sudden silence of the cavern is thundering, amplified by the mercury-drip of a thousand hidden leaks.I stumble back, my gaze snapping to the ceiling.
