(Elisa's POV)
The bells rang at dawn.
They always did—but today, Elisa felt them in her bones.
She stood at the tall window of the eastern spire, hands folded loosely in front of her, watching the light creep over the white stone towers of Aurelion. The capital stretched below her in ordered perfection: wide streets, rising spires, banners marked with gold and ivory sigils fluttering in the morning breeze.
A holy kingdom, they called it. A righteous one.
She had learned, long ago, that righteousness was often just certainty dressed in silk.
"Elisa."
She turned at the sound of her name. The High Seer stood at the chamber's entrance, robes whispering as he stepped inside. His hair wasn't yet silver despite his age, his eyes sharp and unblinking.
"It's begun," he said.
She nodded, but remained silent listening.
The bells rang again—lower this time, deeper. The resonance carried through the stone, through the city, through the countryside beyond the walls.
Five hundred years.
Exactly.
They had been counting the days for decades. Generations of scribes had passed the calendars down like holy relics, marking and remarking the same prophecy until the ink itself had worn thin.
When the cycle completes, thirty shall cross the veil.
Chosen by death, returned by will.
Heroes, born not of this world.
Elisa exhaled slowly.
"How certain are you?" she asked.
The High Seer did not hesitate. "The signs align. The ley lines have shifted. The sanctums report resonance in the deep places. The world is… preparing."
Preparing.
As if the land itself knew something was coming and was bracing for the impact.
Elisa's gaze drifted, unfocused, to the reflection in the window glass. For just a moment, she saw another morning layered over this one—smaller bells, a quieter tower, her hand clasped around her younger brother's as they listened together. He had laughed then, said the sound meant the city was safe.
He had been wrong.
Elisa blinked, and the memory dissolved, leaving only stone and sky behind.
Elisa turned back toward the seer. "Then it's time." Her voice steady now noticing hint of her laps of composure.
She crossed the chamber with measured steps, her white-and-gold mantle trailing behind her. At the center of the room stood a circular table etched with ancient symbols—maps layered over maps, continents redrawn as borders rose and fell.
She placed her hand over the northern wildlands.
"They won't arrive within our borders," she said. "They never do."
"No," the Seer agreed. "The scriptures are clear. The heroes emerge where order is weakest."
Elisa's fingers tightened slightly.
"The frontier," she said. "The untamed regions. Monster lands. Places the crown doesn't watch closely enough." she thumped the table with impatience.
"All places other nations will rush to in the coming days," the Seer added quietly.
She met his gaze. "They won't be the only ones searching."
"No."
That was the problem.
Elisa straightened and raised her voice—not loudly, but with the authority of someone who had never needed to shout.
"Summon the Radiant Order."
The Seer inclined his head. "All of them?"
"The best," she corrected. "I want knights who understand restraint as well as obedience. No glory-seekers. No zealots."
A pause.
"You expect resistance," he said.
"I expect people," Elisa replied. "And people are never as grateful as prophecies promise."
She moved to the writing desk and began signing prepared orders with swift, practiced strokes.
"Send scouting parties to the riverlands, the old forests, and the broken plains. Quietly. No banners. No proclamations. If the heroes are found—"
She stopped, pen hovering.
"—they are to be protected," she finished. "Not commanded. Not claimed."
The Seer studied her. "Other kingdoms will not show such… restraint."
"I know," Elisa said softly. "That's why we must."
She set the pen down and rubbed her temple, a sudden weariness settling behind her eyes.
"Thirty," she murmured. "Thirty people torn from their world and dropped into ours."
The Seer hesitated. "There is… something else," he said.
Elisa looked up at his words.
"One of the lesser sanctums reported a disruption last night. Brief. Violent. Then silence."
Her brow furrowed. "What kind of disruption?"
"The kind associated with transit failure," he said carefully.
A chill crept down her spine. "Explain." She ordered.
"The records indicate that not all crossings are… stable," the Seer continued. "It is possible that—"
"That one didn't make it," Elisa finished. The words hung heavy between them.
The Seer nodded. "If so, it would have happened before manifestation. No witnesses. No record beyond the disturbance itself."
Elisa closed her eyes. So even before arrival, death had already claimed one of them. "Then there will be twenty-nine," she said quietly.
"Or thirty, with one already gone," the Seer corrected. "History will still remember the number."
She opened her eyes again, resolve hardening.
"Send the knights," she said. "Now! We must arrive before they fully cross."
The Seer bowed and turned to leave. As the chamber doors closed behind him, Elisa returned to the window and looked out over her kingdom once more.
Somewhere beyond the borders—beyond the maps and the prayers and the careful plans—thirty souls were on their way. Children. Adults. Ordinary people. Heroes, the world would call them. She pressed her palm against the cold glass. "I hope," she whispered to no one, "that we don't break them before the world needs them most."
Far away, the bells of Aurelion rang on.
And the world continued turning toward a fate it had already decided.