Chapter no 12
The Echo Beneath the Ruins (Part 1)
The next morning brought a strange heaviness in the air, a feeling as if the sky itself held its breath in warning. An orange glow crept across the mountains, but the light felt pale, washed-out, and could not pierce the mist swirling over the valley. Aira woke well before dawn, starting in surprise from a dream dissolving into fragments too quick for her brain to seize: fire, a doorway made of shadows, and someone calling her name from far away.
She lay still for a moment, listening to the beat of her heart. It was racing, as if some part of her body knew that something was wrong even though her mind didn't. She pushed her long pale hair back and sat up. The cabin was gray with a dull morning light, and the wooden walls seemed colder than usual. Mira was still asleep on the other side, curled tightly, her breathing soft but uneven, as though she too had not slept well.
Aira moved quietly so she wouldn't wake her. Her feet touched the wooden floor and a pulse of energy flickered through her fingertips, the same strange sensation she had begun to feel every morning. It wasn't painful, but it was undeniable. Something inside her was waking up, piece by piece.
She stepped outside into the morning air, which slapped her like a splash of icy water. The surrounding forest was silent: no birds, no rustling leaves, nothing but the soft, haunting hum of wind weaving through the pines.
Aira wrapped her arms around herself.
"Why does it feel like everything is watching us?" she whispered.
As if in response, the mist parted—just a little—and revealed the ancient stone path Mira had mentioned last night: the one said to lead to the forgotten ruins, whispered about in old stories, holding the next secret of Aira's origin, according to Mira.
Aira stared at the stones, cracked with age, half-swallowed by moss. Something deep inside of her stirred in recognition.
She didn't turn when the cabin door creaked open behind her; she already knew who it was.
"You felt it too, didn't you?" Mira asked, her voice groggy but serious.
Aira nodded slowly. "The dream. The pulling. Everything."
Mira stepped beside her. "Then today's the day."
She followed Aira's gaze to the forgotten path. "The ruins are calling you."
Aira swallowed the knot in her throat. "And what if I'm not ready?"
"You weren't ever supposed to be 'ready,' Aira," Mira said softly. "You were meant to be chosen."
A deep shiver ran down Aira's spine—incited not by fear, but by truth.
They packed quickly. Aira carried little: a water flask, a small knife Mira insisted she bring, and the stone pendant she'd found after the incident with the masked attackers. It had changed since yesterday—thin golden veins now pulsed faintly across its surface like living threads.
She pressed her thumb over it; it vibrated softly, its acknowledgment of her touch.
Mira noticed. "It grew stronger again."
"It feels like… it wants to lead me."
They exchanged a look-part concern, part determination.
The passage through the forest was sluggish, each step increasing the density of the fog. Ancient trees bent overhead, their branches gnarled and weighted with age. The deeper they pressed in, the more distorted the surroundings grew; it was as if the forest itself shifted, changed shape, trying to unsettle them.
But a strange tug seemed to pull Aira, as if an invisible thread had wrapped itself around her wrist.
When they reached the fallen archway—the entrance to the ruins—Aira's breath caught.
Giant stones were strewn everywhere, surfaces etched with ancient runes, glowing softly beneath layers of moss. A low buzzing, almost like a murmur too quiet to comprehend, filled the air.
Mira stepped backward instinctively. "This place. it's not normal."
"It feels alive," Aira murmured.
She took a step forward, pressed her hand against the nearest rune. Light flared instantly—bright, warm, and impossibly ancient. The earth shook; the runes erupted one by one, spiraling around the arch in a cycle of burgeoning energy.
"Aira, wait!" Mira shouted.
But Aira was unable to budge. The light wrapped around her wrist, tugging her into the very middle of the ruins as the earth shifted, exposing a stairway that descended into darkness.
Her voice trembled. "It-opened for me."
Mira hurried beside her, grasping her shoulders.
"You don't have to go alone."
Aira shook her head. "No, I do have to. I can feel it."
Mira's jaw tightened, but she didn't argue.
"I am going with you anyway."
And down they went together.
The underground chamber was gigantic—bigger than any structure should have been beneath the mountain. Countless pillars marked with ancient symbols towered into the shadows above. Water dripped somewhere in the distance, echoing softly. Aira's pendant glowed brighter, guiding their steps through the enormous hall.
A faint whisper brushed her ear.
Aira…
She froze.
Mira spun around. "What is it?"
"You didn't hear that?"
"Hear what?"
Aira's heartbeat quickened. She took another step, and the whisper came again--closer this time.
You finally returned.
Her breath caught. "Someone is talking to me."
Mira stepped back-to-back with Aira, her eyes scanning the shadows. "We're not alone."
Aira clutched the pendant.
"What do you want from me?" she called out.
Silence… then a deep humming rolled through the chamber. Lines of light lit up along the floor, forming a giant circular pattern beneath them.
Mira grabbed Aira's wrist.
"This feels like a trap."
"It feels like a memory," Aira whispered.
Then—
Blinding light erupted from the ground.
A figure took form in the center of the circle, coalesced from shining dust and golden flame. Aira stumbled back, shielding her eyes. Mira raised her dagger defensively.
The figure stabilized into a humanoid form: tall, elegant, neither man nor woman, with hair flowing like liquid starlight. Its eyes were glowing pools of amber.
It looked directly at Aira.
"Aira of the Lost Lineage," the being said, its voice echoing on every surface of the chamber. "Daughter of the Boundary Flame. The one who was hidden to preserve the balance."
Aira froze.
"I don't… I don't understand." The creature extended a hand. "You were sealed away the day fate fractured. You carry with you the last spark of the ancient bond. The spark that can restore what was broken. or destroy what remains." Mira stepped protectively in front of Aira. "Stay back!" The being leaned its head to one side, studying Mira with interest. "You guard her with fierce devotion… yet you do not know what she truly is." A pang twisted painfully in her chest. "What am I?" The being turned to her again. "A fateful thread drawn before one's birth, a key both worlds are seeking, a force no longer able to be ignored." Aira stumbled backward. "No. No, I'm just—" "You are not 'just' anything," this being interrupted. "Your awakening has begun." A blinding flash engulfed Aira—warm, searing, overwhelming. Mira shouted her name, but Aira couldn't answer. Every sound disappeared. Every breath burned. The ground beneath her vanished. The last thing she heard was the being's whisper: "Remember who you are… before the others find you." Everything went black then.
The Echo Beneath the Ruins (Part 2)
In the wake of Serin's confession, the hall settled into a thick silence, as if the torches lining the stone walls were holding their breath. Lyria felt the weight of it pressing against her ribs. It wasn't just a revelation- it was a fracture, splitting apart everything she thought she knew about her past, her identity, her mother, and her purpose.
But before she could speak, another pair of footsteps echoed from behind Serin.
Master Aldred emerged from the shadowed corridor, his robes trailing behind him like gathering storm clouds. His expression was grim, but not surprised.
He had known.
He had always known.
"Lyria," Aldred said in a low, even voice. "You have to understand. If we told you too soon, before your awakening, your powers would have…reacted. Violently.
Lyria gritted her teeth. "And now? You think they won't react now?"
A flicker of blue light sparked along her fingertips, uncontrolled and wild, trembling like an animal cornered but ready to bite. Serin stepped forward, hands open and empty.
"You aren't alone," he said softly. "The truth may shake you, but it won't break you."
Lyria's eyes stung. She wasn't sure if she believed him.
But she wanted to.
She really wanted to.
A SHATTERING MEMORY
The truth, that her mother had sealed away Lyria's powers to protect her, spiralled in her mind like a storm of jagged ice.
Lyria closed her eyes, and memory unfurled.
A flash of silver hair.
A woman kneeling in front of a small child.
A whisper, trembling with fear:
"I'm so sorry, my little star… Forgive me."
Lyria gasped and reeled, grasping at the table's edge. Her heart seemed to pound wildly, each beat an echo of the cry of the child she once was.
Serin reached out to steady her, but she shook her head.
"I'm fine," she lied.
She wasn't.
Nothing was okay about this.
THE PROPHECY'S SHADOW
Master Aldred folded his hands behind his back. "There is more you must know."
Lyria froze.
Of course, there was more. There was always more. Fate didn't deal in half-truths.
Aldred continued, "Your mother did not only seal your magic. She hid you from those who sought you—the Order of the Veiled Sun."
Serin tensed beside her. "They're surfacing again?"
Aldred nodded. "We have reason to believe they have already entered the capital."
Lyria's blood chilled. "Why would they want me?"
Serin hesitated, but Aldred spoke plainly:
"You are not just powerful, Lyria. You are a catalyst—one that can either shatter the fate of this world or reinforce it. Your existence… threatens them."
Lyria's throat constricted. She didn't want to be a weapon. She didn't want to be a prophecy. She didn't want to be hunted.
She just wanted to be herself.
But she didn't know who that was anymore.
AN UNEXPECTED CHOICE
Aldred set a weathered scroll on the table. The seal was ancient—a crescent moon intertwined with a star, the symbol Lyria had seen in her dreams.
"This," Aldred said, "is the path your mother tried to keep from you. A path she didn't want you forced into."
Serin's voice was quiet. "You don't have to choose it. Not tonight. Maybe not ever."
That stopped Lyria cold.
Not ever?
For the first time since she entered this hall, her breath loosened just a bit.
Serin wasn't pushing her. He wasn't forcing destiny on her shoulders. He was giving her space, a crack in the suffocating stone walls closing in on her.
She opened her mouth.
But before she could respond—
—
THE DOORS BURST OPEN
A loud BOOM shook the room as the main doors slammed inward.
The doorway framed a tall figure, draped in black; his face was hidden behind a mask of beaten gold, engraved with sun rays. A symbol burned upon his chest: the very emblem Aldred had just now mentioned.
The Order of the Veiled Sun.
Lyria's heart stopped.
The hand of Serin instinctively went to the dagger at his belt. Aldred stepped forward, staff glowing with defensive magic.
The masked intruder lifted a hand. Shadows spiraled around his glove, like living smoke.
"Found you," he said, his voice distorted by magic.
"The forbidden child."
Lyria stumbled backward, power crackling precariously around her. The pulse thundered in her ears. Blue flames danced across the surface of her palms, uncontrolled, and threatened to explode.
"Lyria—don't!" Serin shouted.
But she couldn't hear him.
Couldn't think.
Couldn't breathe.
Sealed memories, the tear-stained face of her mother, and the revelation of her identity- it was all colliding in a violent storm.
The masked intruder stepped forward.
His voice cut through the chaos like a blade.
"You belong to us."
Lyria snapped.
Light burst forth.
A tidal wave of raw power exploded outward. The hall shook violently. Torches shattered. Stones cracked. Serin was knocked backward and Aldred barely managed to shield himself.
The intruder skidded across the floor, but rose instantly, unshaken.
"So it awakens," he said slowly.
"The power of the Fallen Star."
Lyria couldn't stop shaking.
What was happening to her?
What was she becoming?
SERIN MOVES
The intruder dove. Serin moved first.
His voice tore through the chaos:
"LYRIA! LOOK AT ME!"
Just for a second-one heartbeat-her eyes met his.
Serin's eyes were steady, unafraid, filled with a quiet strength that held the broken pieces in. The storm in her chest faltered, dimming just enough for her to breathe.
Serin charged forward, catching the masked man's blow. Steel rang against steel. Sparks flew. The hall boomed with magic and metal.
Aldred cast a spell of warding to protect Lyria, but already cracks formed in its shimmering shield.
"Run!" Aldred shouted.
"Lyria, go!"
But Lyria didn't move.
She was not able to leave Serin.
Not again.
Not like she lost her mother.
THE DECISION SHE CANNOT AVOID
With shaking hands, Lyria reached for the scroll Aldred had placed earlier.
The path her mother wanted to hide.
The choice Serin promised she didn't have to make.
But looking at Serin, struggling against the masked invader—
watching Aldred fight so desperately to protect her—
Lyria came to a realization:
She might not want this life.
but she could no longer run from it.
Not when the people she cared about were paying the price.
She unsealed the scroll.
A pulse of ancient energy coursed through her veins, searing like fire and freezing like ice at once.
The masked man wheeled round.
"No," he growled.
"Not now. Not yet."
But it was too late.
The scroll ignited in Lyra's hands—
and her fate ignited with it. In the wake of Serin's confession, the silence in the hall grew thick, as if the very torches set into the stone walls were holding their collective breath. Lyria felt its weight upon her ribs. It was more than a mere revelation-it was a fissure, splitting asunder everything she thought she knew about her past, her identity, her mother, and her purpose.
But before she could speak, another pair of footsteps echoed from behind Serin.
Out from the shadowed corridor, his robes trailing behind him like storm clouds gathering, came Master Aldred. His face was grim but unsurprised.
He had known.
He had always known,
"Lyria," Aldred said, in a low, even voice, "You have to understand. If we had told you too soon, before your. awakening, your powers would have. reacted. Violently.
Lyria's jaw clenched. "And now? You think they won't react now?"
A flicker of blue light sparked along her fingertips, uncontrolled and wild, trembling like an animal cornered but ready to bite. Serin stepped forward, hands open and empty.
"You are not alone," he said softly. "The truth might shake you, but it will never break you.
Lyria's eyes stung. She didn't know if she believed him.
But she wanted to.
She really wanted to.
A SHATTERING MEMORY
The truth-her mother had sealed away Lyria's powers to protect her-continued to whirl in her mind like a storm of jagged ice.
Lyria closed her eyes, and memory unfurled.
A flash of silver hair.
A woman kneeling in front of a small child.
A hushed whisper, trembling with fear:
"I'm sorry, my little star… Forgive me."
Lyria gasped and staggered, clutching the edge of the table. Her heart hammered violently, each beat echoing the cry of the child she once was.
Serin reached out to steady her, but she shook her head.
"I'm fine," she lied.
She wasn't.
Nothing about this was fine.
THE PROPHECY'S SHADOW
Master Aldred folded his hands behind his back. "There is more you must know."
Lyria froze.
Of course, there was more. There was always more. Fate did not deal in half-truths.
Aldred continued: "Your mother did not only seal your magic. She hid you from those who sought you—the Order of the Veiled Sun."
Serin stiffened beside her. "They're resurfacing again?"
Aldred nodded. "We have reason to believe that they have already entered the capital.
Lyria's blood chilled. "Why would they want me?"
Serin hesitated, but Aldred said forthrightly:
"You are not just powerful, Lyria. You are a catalyst—one which can shatter the fate of this world or reinforce it. Your existence… threatens them."
Lyria's throat constricted. She didn't want to be a weapon. She didn't want to be a prophecy. She didn't want to be hunted.
She just wanted to be herself.
But she didn't know who that was any longer.
AN UNEXPECTED CHOICE
Aldred laid a weathered scroll on the table. The seal was ancient—a crescent moon intertwined with a star, the symbol Lyria had seen in her dreams.
"This," said Aldred, "is the path which your mother tried to keep from you. A path she didn't want you forced into.
Serin's voice was quiet. "You don't have to choose it. Not tonight. Maybe not ever."
That stopped Lyria cold.
Not ever?
For the first time since she had walked into this hall, her breath loosened, just a little.
Serin wasn't pushing her; wasn't forcing the fates onto the weight of her shoulders. He was giving her space-a crack in the suffocating stone walls closing in on her.
She opened her mouth.
But before she could respond—
—
THE DOORS BURST OPEN
A thunderous BOOM shook the room as the main doors slammed inward.
A tall figure stood in the doorway, clad in black; his face was hidden behind a golden mask engraved with sun rays. A symbol burned upon his chest, the emblem Aldred had just mentioned.
The Order of the Veiled Sun
Lyria's heart stopped.
Immediately, Serin's hand went to the dagger at his belt. Aldred stepped forward, staff glowing with defensive magic.
The masked intruder lifted a hand. Shadows spiraled around his glove like living smoke.
"Found you," he said, his voice distorted by magic.
"The forbidden child."
Lyria stumbled backwards, power crackling dangerously around her. Her pulse thundered in her ears. Blue flames flickered across her palms, uncontrolled, threatening to explode.
"Lyria—don't!" Serin shouted.
But she couldn't hear him.
Couldn't think.
Couldn't breathe.
Her sealed memories, the tearful face of her mother, and the revelation of her identity all collided in one violent storm.
The masked intruder stepped forward.
His voice cut through the chaos like a blade.
"You belong to us."
Lyria snapped.
Light burst forth.
A tidal wave of raw power exploded outward. The hall shook violently. Torches shattered. Stones cracked. Serin was knocked backward, and Aldred barely managed to shield himself.
The intruder skidded across the floor but rose instantly-unshaken.
"So it awakens," he said, slowly.
"The power of the Fallen Star."
Lyria couldn't stop shaking.
What was happening to her?
What was she becoming?
SERIN MOVES
The intruder charged. Serin struck first.
His voice tore through the chaos:
"LYRIA! LOOK AT ME!"
Just for a second-one heartbeat-her eyes met his.
Serin's eyes were steady, unafraid, full of a silent strength that glued the broken pieces together. The storm in her chest faltered, dimming enough for her to breathe.
Serin flung himself forward, intercepting the blow of the masked man. The steel clashed. Sparks erupted. The hall rang with magic and metal.
Aldred cast his warding spell in front of Lyria, but already cracks showed in its shimmering shield. "Run!" Aldred shouted. "Lyria, go!" But Lyria didn't move. She couldn't leave Serin. Not again. Not like she lost her mother. THE DECISION SHE CANNOT AVOID Lyria reached for the scroll Aldred had placed earlier with shaking hands. The path her mother wanted to hide. The choice Serin promised she didn't have to make. But looking at Serin, struggling against the masked invader— and watched as Aldred fought desperately to protect her— Lyria realized something: She might not want this destiny, but she no longer could run from it. Not when the people she cared about were paying the price. She unsealed the scroll. A pulse of ancient energy surged through her veins, as if burning like fire but freezing like ice at the same time. The masked man whirled abruptly. "No," he growled. "Not now. Not yet." But it was too late. The scroll ignited in Lyria's hands— and ignited her fate along with it.