The sunlight filtered gently through the silk curtains in Zena's home. The smell of roasted fruit filled the air as she took her first full meal in weeks. Her wounds, though still healing, no longer screamed with pain. For the first time since she and Afroda has been released, there was calm. Silence. Peace.. Some prisoners dead. Some became slave. Some were released.
Zena sat cross-legged on her mat, sipping a bowl of tuzi, a Kerion fresh soup, a sharp knock echoed from the door.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
She stiffened.
Afroda was still out in the lower market, and no one else knew she was home. Her fingers hovered over the knife on the table before slowly rising to her feet. The knocks came again—soft, hesitant, but persistent.
She opened the door slowly… and there, standing under the warm light of mador, was a boy. Not older than fourteen. Dirt clung to his feet, his brown tunic was patched in several places, and his eyes—so hauntingly ancient for a child—locked onto hers with a strange familiarity.
"Who are you?" she asked, brows furrowed.
"My name is Kazov," the boy replied, his voice raspy yet oddly steady.
Zena blinked. "Kazov? What are you doing here? Where are your parents? It's dangerous for a child to wander alone in these times—"
"I had to come," he said quickly, voice almost pleading. "Please, I haven't eaten all day. May I come in? I have something urgent to tell you."
Still wary, Zena stepped aside and motioned him in. The boy limped in quietly and sank into the wooden chair near the table. She observed him as he devoured the food she placed before him—fresh fruit, tuzi, and a gourd of water. He was hungry. Not just physically, but spiritually—there was something hollow and desperate about him.
Once he finished eating, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked up at her.
"The seer sent me," he said.
Zena froze.
"The… what did you say?"
"The Seer," Kazov repeated. "He came to me. In a dream. But it felt real—like I was in another place. He told me to find you."
Zena's breath hitched. Her heart began to pound.
"The Seer has been dead for eleven years," she said slowly. "No one has heard from him since"
Kazov nodded. "I went to Micav. Not physically. I saw it in a vision. It's still there… in ruins, but alive. That's where I met him. He spoke to me. He showed me things. Powers I didn't understand. At first, I thought I was sick. That I was cursed. But I'm not. He said I am the bridge. The one who sees what others cannot."
Zena stared at him, mouth slightly open. Her mind reeled.
Micav is a place no one knew about, No one—no child—could know its name without having been told. And this boy… was describing things no one in Kerion knows.
"You… you spoke to him?" she asked shakily.
"I still can," Kazov replied. "Sometimes, when I sleep, I'm not sleeping. I travel. I see people. Places. I saw Sevira."
Zena jolted. "You saw Sevira?"
"She's in another world. She's doing okay."
Zena sat down slowly, legs trembling beneath her. The room felt colder now.
"Thanks Datu." She whispered. "What of your parents."
He looked down at his hands. "Gone. They were taken when I was six. Since then, I've wandered. Survived. I don't know why Datu chose me."
Tears welled in Zena's eyes—not just from the pain of his story, but from the truth she felt in her bones. He was different. She could feel it in the air around him—the way his presence bent it slightly, like heat dancing on stone.
"You're the new one," she whispered. "The next. A Seer reborn."
Kazov didn't smile, but there was peace in his eyes. He nodded once, stood, and picked up the small satchel by his side.
"I have to go," he said. "I sleep behind the spice merchant's quarters. There's a quiet place there. I'll come again sometime."
Zena couldn't move. Couldn't speak. She only watched him disappear into the street, dust rising with each of his steps.
⸻
Later that evening, Afroda returned and found Zena sitting silently by the window, lost in thought. When she told her everything—about Kazov, his powers, the Seer, and the mention of Sevira—Afroda's face lit up with wonder and cautious hope.
"Then the world isn't lost," Afroda whispered. "If the gift has passed on… if Sevira is still out there… then this prophecy is far from over."
Zena nodded slowly, still seeing the boy's grey eyes in her mind.
"A new Seer walks among us."
————
Far across the dark cliffs of Kerion, where mador rarely touched and the air smelled of burning herbs and rusted chains, Elektra paced slowly through the cold halls of her private wing. Her long net robe dragged behind her like a trail of blood, and her gold cuffs clinked with every measured step.
She has grown to be wicked like her father.
That morning, a trembling slave girl had been brought to her. A wide-eyed child of sixteen, barely more than skin and bone, her hands bruised from scrubbing stone floors. She had whispered something forbidden.
Silence followed the words. Elektra stood unmoving for a long moment.
Then she smiled.
The kind of smile that froze the heart of anyone who saw it.
"Do you believe in ghost stories?" she asked the girl gently.
The girl, confused, shook her head.
"Good," Elektra said. "Because soon… you'll be one."
She snapped her fingers.
Two guards stepped forward without a word. The girl screamed, begged—but Elektra didn't flinch. She turned her back as they dragged the girl away.
"Feed her to the birds," she said coldly. "Let the ravens remember the price of prophecy."
⸻
Later that evening, Elektra stood alone in her chamber, gazing into the dark mirror carved from obsidian. Her reflection seemed to ripple, shadows twisting behind her eyes. Something wasn't right. Since hearing the girl's words, her head had begun to ache. Her hands trembled slightly.
She heard whispers in her ears—soft and relentless.
"Our savior is coming."
"The child is coming."
"You will be destroyed."
She clutched her head, growling. "Silence!"
A sudden thud echoed behind her.
Zica had entered quietly, his massive frame darkening the doorway. His face, carved like stone, studied her.
"You're shaking," he said.
Elektra straightened. "It's nothing. I… I slipped."
Zica stepped closer, narrowing his eyes. He had known her long enough to sense when something was wrong. But Elektra had learned to lie with elegance.
"Another slave spoke out," she said. "About the prophecy. More poison. I've taken care of it."
Zica gave a grunt of approval but his eyes lingered on her a moment longer.
"You're becoming colder," he muttered, almost to himself.
Elektra turned sharply to face him. "We cannot be soft, father. Not now. There are whispers in the walls. Our enemies multiply like rats in the shadows. If we don't act, everything we've built—everything—will fall to a child who should have never been born."
Zica stared at her, saying nothing.
In that moment, something flickered behind Elektra's eyes—a dark heat, like smoke rising behind a beautiful mask. Power was changing her. Or perhaps, revealing what had always been hidden beneath her quiet smile.
She turned back to the mirror.
And this time, her reflection smiled at her first.
———————
The sun had not yet broken over the hills of Ivaré. The world outside Sevira's window was painted in dusky violet and pale silver. All was still. Quiet. Except the storm brewing inside her.
Sevira lay curled in bed, clutching her pillow like a lifeline. Her eyes were puffy from crying—tears she hadn't been able to stop. It had been weeks since she'd felt any true peace. The weight of Kerion pulling her, the loss of her home, the ache of her parents' absence—it pressed down on her like stone. She had dreamt of them that night. Their voices, their warmth, so close. And yet, when she woke… nothing.
A sharp pulse jolted beneath her collarbone.
She gasped.
The birthmark.
It glowed.
A soft, golden light shimmered from her skin. It pulsed again—once, twice—like a heartbeat not her own. Her breath caught.
Then—
"Sevira…"
The voice was not outside. It was inside her.
She sat upright with a cry, clutching her chest. "Who's there?!"
No answer. Only silence—and then another whisper, softer this time, brushing the edge of her mind like a breeze in the trees.
"Please don't be afraid. I'm not here to hurt you."
Her eyes darted around the room. The door was shut. The curtains barely moved. No one else was there. And yet the voice came again. Clearer now.
"My name is Kazov."
Her hands trembled. "Stop it. Get out of my head—"
"I can't. This is the only way I can reach you. We're… connected, Sevira. Through the mark. It's not just a birthmark. It's a gate."
Her skin burned under her fingers. The light pulsed brighter. Tears spilled down her cheeks again—not just from fear, but from the frustration, the helplessness she'd buried for days.
There was a pause. And then, gently—
"I know your parents." He spoke in Kerion language.
She froze.
Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.
"What… did you say?"
"Your parents. Afroda and Zena. I've met them. They're alive, Sevira. They're safe… but they miss you terribly."
She clutched the edge of the bed, the sobs rising in her throat again. The room tilted around her.
"You're lying," she said hoarsely. "No one knows their names. No one should know—"
"I sat at Zena's table. I drank tuzi from her bowl. Afroda carries a carved knife with the mark of the old rebellion. Your father speaks your name when he sleeps. Your mother… she prays to Datu every night."
Sevira broke.
The tears spilled like rain, silent and endless. Her whole body shook. She covered her mouth to muffle the sound, but it was too late. She was sobbing, raw and hollowed out.
"Why you?" she whispered bitterly into her palms. "Why not them? Why can't I hear them instead of you?"
Kazov's voice in her mind was quiet for a moment. Then—
"Because the Datu chose me. I don't know why. I'm just a boy. But I see what others can't. I can carry words across the veil between worlds. I can show you what's still waiting for you."
The birthmark pulsed again, casting light on her tear-streaked skin. She looked down at it, glowing like fire trapped in glass.
"Your parents love you, Sevira. They believe in you. They're fighting for a world that's still worth saving. The time for you to return is near."
Her voice cracked through the haze. "You talk like you know everything."
"I don't."
Silence.
"But I know pain. I've lived alone for years. I've lost things too. I know how it feels to scream and have no one hear you. But right now… I hear you. And so do they."
She closed her eyes.
And in the soft shadows of that early morning, Sevira let her pain spill into the connection. Not words—just feelings. A silent scream wrapped in light.
And for a moment… someone held it.
Held her.
And through the bond, across the veil between worlds, came one final whisper.
"We need you, it's almost time."
——————
The early morning air was crisp and sharp, the kind that made your fingers sting and your breath cloud like smoke. The school's courtyard buzzed with energy as students wheeled their luggage toward the waiting buses. Excitement danced in the air—this was the long-awaited trip.
Laughter echoed, duffel bags thudded onto bus compartments, and the crowd shimmered with movement and color. Most wore layered jackets and sneakers, a comfortable blend of casual and cold-weather practical. Sevira stood among them in a black jacket over a white turtleneck, black pants hugging her legs, and a neat pair of white sneakers. She looked put together—as always—but something in her eyes made her feel like a ghost standing among the living.
Kyle and Sky flanked her, chatting about outfits, Crestwood weather, and rumors about the school they'd be meeting. But Sevira barely nodded, her mind miles away.
They boarded the bus. The atmosphere inside was almost chaotic—students swapped snacks, filmed selfies, played music through shared earbuds. But Sevira eased into her window seat silently, pulled her headphones over her ears, and leaned her head back.
The noise around her faded into a low, distant hum. Her thoughts, however, refused to quiet.
She didn't know how to explain it—not even to herself. That strange voice, the glow on her chest, the dream-like whisper from someone claiming to know her parents. It haunted her, like a forgotten melody at the edge of her mind.
When the bus finally arrived hours later, Crestwood did not disappoint.
The conference center sprawled across a vibrant town square, wrapped in crisp autumn colors and lined with boutique cafés, modern sculptures, and glittering glass buildings. Some students immediately broke into groups—snapping pictures, marveling at the architecture, or heading out for sightseeing tours.
Sevira wheeled her suitcase to a shaded bench and sank onto it with a soft sigh. She just needed a moment. A pause. A breath.
Nearby, Alex and Emma were flagged down for the guided city walk, waving back at her as they disappeared down the path. Scott lingered behind.
"Here," he said, holding out a cold bottle of water. "You've barely said a word since we left school."
Sevira hesitated but accepted it with a weak smile. "Thanks."
"You okay?" he asked gently, taking the seat beside her. His tone wasn't pushy—just… concerned. Genuinely so. He was dressed in a navy bomber jacket and dark jeans, clean-cut and warm in his presence. But his eyes were studying her like a mystery he couldn't solve.
"I'm fine," she said quickly.
"You sure?" He tilted his head. "Because you've been off all morning. I can't help noticing."
She looked away, her gaze drifting toward the trees swaying in the wind. "I'm just tired."
Scott didn't push. But he didn't move either. He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. "You can talk to me, you know. I won't force it, but I'm here."
Her heart tugged a little at that.
Before she could reply, a voice called out behind them.
"Hey guys!" Emma's unmistakable cheer rang out as she jogged back toward them. "We're moving toward the group hotel now—they're assigning rooms!"
Sevira stood, dusted off her pants, and gave Scott a small nod. "Thanks… for checking on me."
They joined the others, wheeling their luggage across the cobblestone path to the modern building that would house all the visiting schools. Room assignments were read out, students spilled into elevators and up staircases, and chatter rose like waves.
Inside one of the boys' rooms, Sky dropped his bag on the bed and stretched his arms.
"Okay… now that we're here, what's on your mind?" he asked, glancing at Scott who sat silently on the windowsill.
Scott frowned. "Have you guys noticed Sevi lately? She's been… distant."
Kyle, already in the room, didn't speak at first. But he nodded. "Yeah. She's been quiet. Not like her usual self."
"I noticed too." Sky let out a slow air through his mouth.
"You think she's sick?" Kyle asked.
Scott leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. "No. It's not physical. It's like she's worried about something but won't say a word."
There was a beat of silence.
Sky sighed. "So… what do we do?"
Scott and Kyle exchanged look and fix their gaze back on Sky. Their look was suspicious.
"What?!" Sky asked throwing his hands up.
——————
Sky caught up with Alex just as she was stepping out of the elevator with a towel over her shoulder.
"Hey," he called. "Wait a sec."
Alex paused, surprised. "What's up?"
"Have you noticed how Sevi's been acting?" Sky asked. "Scott and Kyle were talking—she's been off lately. Super quiet."
Alex's face tightened slightly. "Yeah, I noticed too. I tried asking her earlier but she wouldn't talk."
Sky studied her for a beat. "So… you don't know what's wrong either?"
"No," she said slowly. "I thought maybe she just needed space. Wait… why are you asking? Is something wrong?"
Sky hesitated. "She's just been off."
Alex blinked. "I'm worried too."
"Ok, I'll talk to you later honey." Sky pecked her. "Just try finding out."
He left.
That's when it hit her.
She turned toward her door, rushed back in, and scanned the empty space. The bed was untouched. No sign of Sevira.
Her phone was on the nightstand—calls to Sevi, unanswered.
A cold realization crept up her spine.
"She's been gone for almost an hour," Alex said, voice tightening. "I didn't even notice…"
She stepped out of the room too quickly, not watching where she was going—and bumped right into Scott.
"Ow—watch it—Scott?"
Scott held her arms steady. "Whoa. You okay?"
"No—Sevi's gone. She's not in the room. I think she's been missing for a while."
Scott's brow furrowed instantly. "What do you mean gone?"
"She left over an hour ago and never came back. Her phone's inside. She's not answering. No one's seen her."
Scott didn't wait. "Let's go. We're finding her now."
The hotel hallways blurred as Scott and Alex hurried through, checking lounges, vending areas, even the tiny back patio.
"She wouldn't just leave," Alex said. "Not without saying anything."
"Unless something's wrong," Scott added grimly.
They passed Emma in the lobby. She hadn't seen her.
Sky doubled back after checking the stairwell. "Nothing."
Scott turned to Kyle. "Search the rooftop. Now."
Alex looked toward the woods. "She liked quiet places…"
They split again, urgency tightening every step. Scott with Alex.
————-
The night had a pulse of its own.
Crickets chirped softly, the wind stirring the tall pine trees that loomed like quiet sentinels. The lights from the hotel were distant now, hidden behind the thick veil of trees.
Sevira sat alone on a large moss-covered rock deep in the woods, just past the back trail behind the hotel. The world felt hushed here—like even the stars were holding their breath.
She curled into herself, arms wrapped tightly around her knees, her breath trembling. Her heart beat loud in her ears, but that wasn't the only thing she heard.
Kazov's voice echoed inside her head, cold and uninvited.
"Your parents are safe… for now."
Tears streaked down her face, cutting paths through her silence.
"Why do you keep saying that?" she whispered into the still night. "What does 'for now' even mean?"
"You know how fragile life is—especially in Kerion," Kazov answered, his voice curling around her thoughts like smoke. "Powerful people fall like pawns. Elektra has poisoned minds. Destroy families. Even your parents aren't safe from that."
Her lips quivered. "I just want to talk to them. I miss them so much."
A low hum filled her chest—and then, like a spark awakening in the dark, a faint light bloomed beneath her jacket sleeve.
Her birthmark was glowing. Soft. Warm. Steady.
She didn't panic. Not this time. The warmth didn't feel dangerous.
It felt… familiar.
Kazov's voice grew gentler. "You will soon."
Sevira closed her eyes, her shoulders shaking.
"I can't wait."
A fresh sob burst from her throat.
She always suppressed her feeling, this time she didn't.
"You are the only one who can stop Zica," Kazov reminded her. "You're the key, Sevira. The fate of Kerion is in your hands."
A sudden crack of twigs snapped her out of it.
Her head shot up.
Voices echoed in the woods.
"Sevi!" someone shouted. "Sevira! Where are you?"
Flashlights swept between the trees like searchlights. She stood slowly, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand.
"Over here!" she called.
Moments later, Scott broke through the underbrush, eyes wide, hair messy, shirt clinging to him from running.
He rushed to her.
"Jesus, Sevi—" he pulled her into a tight hug, arms locked around her like he'd never let go. "You scared the hell out of me. What were you thinking? You can't just disappear like that!"
"I…" her voice cracked. "I needed to breathe."
Scott pulled back just enough to look at her face. "You've been crying. What happened?"
She shook her head. "It's nothing. I'm okay now."
He didn't buy it—but didn't press either. He saw something in her eyes he didn't understand. Something heavy.
"You sure you're alright?" Alex asked
So worried. She knew she was not okay.
She gave a small nod. "Yeah. Thanks for coming."
"Come on," he said gently. "Everyone's been freaking out. Even Sky's pacing like a dad-to-be."
She managed a small laugh.
As they walked side by side
"Thank you, Kazov," she whispered into her mind.
He didn't respond.
But deep down, she knew—he heard her.
—————-
The music played softly in the background, drifting from the small stage that had been set up near the edge of the hotel grounds. The night air was cool, buzzing faintly with chatter and laughter from students enjoying the rest of the evening. But Scott couldn't hear any of it.
He stood off to the side, his arms crossed, watching Sevira, Alex, and Emma where they sat near the front row of seats, lit softly by the warm glow of stage lights. Sevira clapped politely with the others as the dance performance ended, but she didn't smile. Not really. Her eyes looked far away, like they were still somewhere in those woods.
Scott kept staring.
He didn't even realize he was doing it—his mind kept looping questions he didn't know how to answer.
"Why did she cry like that?"
"Why has she been so distant lately?"
"Why does it feel like she's carrying something none of us can see?"
She'd been quiet all day. Truly withdrawn. The kind of quiet that screamed. The kind that made you feel helpless because you didn't know how to fix it.
And this wasn't school. He couldn't blame exams or classes or teachers.
This was supposed to be a school trip. Fun. A break from reality. But she looked like reality had chased her here and was dragging her back every second.
He looked at her eyes again.
Red. Tired.
"She cried. Not just a little. A lot."
Whatever it was—it had cut deep. And it haunted her still.
Scott exhaled sharply through his nose and rubbed the back of his neck, frustrated with himself.
"I I should've asked more. Listened harder."
The final song came on—"Above"—and the dancers took their final bows. The audience clapped and cheered, some standing to applaud. It was beautiful, sure, but Scott couldn't look away from her.
That's when Sky appeared beside him with kyle, holding a drink in one hand.
"You've been staring at her for, like, forever," kyle muttered. "What's going on with you?"
Scott didn't answer right away.
"She's not okay," he said quietly. "She hasn't been all day."
Sky sighed. "Yeah. You didn't say much when you got back."
"I don't know." Scott admitted. "She didn't say much either. But… I could tell. Something's wrong. Something serious."
Kyle groaned. "Just chill, let's chill, she will be okay."
But Sky didn't speak. He was watching Scott carefully, noting the tension in his face.
"Listen," Sky finally said, his voice calm. "Maybe she's not ready to talk. People shut down sometimes. You can't force her."
"I'm not trying to force her," Scott muttered. "I just… I want to be there. I don't want her to go through it alone."
"You love her dude." Kyle said
He didn't respond.
He wasn't sure when it started either. Maybe it was during one of their late-night talks. Maybe it was the way she laughed. Or maybe it was tonight, when he found her crying alone in the dark and realized that just seeing her hurt made something twist in his chest.
Sky patted him on the back. "She'll be okay. Just give her time. When she's ready, she'll talk."
Scott nodded faintly, but the knot in his chest didn't ease.
As the students began gathering for photos and snacks, his eyes returned to her again.