Mikhael remained frozen in place.
"That… isn't that the handiwork of the gods?"A sinking feeling told him his life was about to take a turn for the worse. He hurried toward the paper, examining it from where he stood.
He stared at it, then shut his eyes. What should I do now?His thoughts were in turmoil, buzzing with confusion. Slowly, he opened his eyes again.
Somehow, Mikhael had always recognized the handiwork of the gods, though he had never studied it—not after learning it was forbidden. He glanced at the paper again and murmured, "The Great Officer…"
He couldn't hold back his curiosity any longer. Kneeling down, he took the paper into his hands, the writing becoming clearer before his eyes. He drew in a deep breath, readying himself to accept the consequences.
The Great Officer. For the light bestowed by the Great God, the God of Light. Far at the edge of the earth lies a secret that brings both destruction and peace. There lies the beloved soul. Present, yet never opening their eyes. Their heart frozen, difficult to thaw. Save the beloved soul from the pit of ruin. Bestow the eternal light that can shatter the spell. Break the barrier between the world and their soul. Thousands of pale shards have adorned the east and its surroundings. And the gods have never revealed what lies above the sea of deception.
Mikhael felt as though he had lived through this once before. He longed to know more of what was written in these pages. He picked up another sheet.
For the dark light bestowed by the Great God, the Goddess of Darkness. With the power of a land protected by a god, and with the might of warriors wielding eternal weapons, we choose a pure soul to save civilization. We send forth the Star. A fine mist like crashing waves. A strange fate that shatters the empty soul. The curse upon the beloved soul shall be lifted before the Star turns to ash. The Star will surrender its immortality for the sake of civilization. Save the beloved soul from ruin. Bestow the eternal light that breaks the spell. Break the barrier between the world and their soul in the place where roses dance.
"This is like… instructions." Mikhael was certain these were directions to a certain place. He straightened his posture.
"Perhaps the time has come…" He turned toward his mother."Maybe these pages will free her from this suffering."
Mikhael resolved to make plans immediately—he didn't want to waste time overthinking. This was his chance. Yet deep inside, a seed of doubt remained, buried as far as he could push it.
He walked toward the door, still hesitant about his own intentions. Leaving his mother's room, his heart was a storm of anxiety, worry, and fear of failing in his journey.
Meanwhile, in Mikhael's own room, the rose he had placed on the table had turned completely pale.