Elira pressed her back against the cold stone wall, heart pounding against her ribs like a drumbeat of war. The library was no longer silent — it breathed.
The whispers rose and fell like waves, unintelligible yet heavy with meaning. Each syllable echoed in her bones. She held the book tightly, its cover now warm to the touch, the golden symbols pulsing with a rhythm that matched her own heartbeat.
> "Why me?" she whispered, voice trembling.
> "Because you are the last," the voice replied, now clearer, female, ancient yet alive.
A soft glow spread across the library floor, illuminating a circular emblem beneath the dust — a sigil. Elira stepped forward, guided by something beyond fear. In the center of the sigil, the air shimmered, and slowly, a figure began to take shape.
A woman, cloaked in light and shadow. Her face obscured, her hair a cascade of silver strands that defied the laws of gravity.
> "I am Selian," she said. "Guardian of the Forgotten Flame."
Elira swallowed hard. "What is this place?"
Selian's eyes opened — two orbs of molten gold.
> "A vault of truths sealed by your ancestors. A prison for what should never have awakened. And now..."
The figure turned toward the far wall. A crack had formed. From it seeped black mist that writhed and curled like living ink.
> "...you've broken the seal."
Elira's knees gave out and she fell to the stone floor. The book flared, pages fluttering on their own. Words began to form — not written, but etched in glowing fire.
Selian knelt beside her, not touching, but close.
> "You must leave this place. Take the book and go to the Vale of Ash. There are others who remember."
> "I don't understand," Elira said.
> "You don't need to. Not yet."
The sigil flared with sudden brilliance, and the library trembled again. Stone cracked. Shelves collapsed. A scream — not human — echoed through the archive.
Selian's voice turned urgent. "Go now, child. Run before the dark finds your name."
The golden light enveloped Elira. And in an instant, the archive vanished.
She awoke, gasping, beneath the roots of an old oak on the palace grounds. The book was in her hands. The sky had turned the color of embers.
And far to the north, where the mountains kissed the clouds, a shadow moved.
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