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Chapter 15 – Echoes in the Mortal Realm
The night over Eryndor, a kingdom far from Kaelen's cavern, was unlike any the elders remembered. The skies bled crimson, not with the gentle hues of a sunset, but with a harsh, lingering glow that set even the stone towers of the capital ablaze with color. Farmers abandoned their fields, merchants shuttered their shops, and priests gathered at the temple steps, their chants wavering with uncertainty.
The moon hung swollen and red, veiled in a haze that pulsed faintly like a heartbeat. Winds howled through the city's narrow streets, carrying whispers that no one dared repeat. Dogs barked endlessly. Infants cried without reason. Even the river that wound through the capital churned as if stirred by an unseen hand.
In the high hall of the citadel, King Aldric of Eryndor sat rigid upon his throne. His crown seemed heavier than usual, his fingers white from clutching the armrest. Around him, his council argued.
"This is no omen, Your Majesty," hissed Lord Dareth, his sharp features twisted with fear. "It is sorcery—ancient, foul. If the old prophecies are true, the Veil itself is breaking!"
"Superstition," countered High Marshal Rhogar, a soldier hardened by fifty campaigns. His scarred cheek caught the firelight. "Skies turn red. Rivers flood. Such things have happened before. We do not bow to shadows and whispers—we sharpen blades and hold the walls."
At the far end of the chamber, Seeress Maeryn spoke, her voice low yet cutting through the noise. Draped in pale silks, her blindfolded eyes gave her an unearthly presence. "You are both wrong. This is neither sorcery nor chance. I felt it as the moon changed—the trembling of the earth's very bones. Something vast has stirred beyond mortal sight."
The council fell silent. Even the king dared not interrupt.
"The Watchers are awake," Maeryn continued. "And with them, something greater still. A convergence is coming—gods, titans, mortals… all bound by a sigil older than memory. You may call it myth, but the world will not care what name you give it. We stand at the edge of an age where kingdoms are but pawns on a board carved by hands not our own."
Her words left the hall in uneasy quiet. Outside, thunder rolled across a cloudless sky.
King Aldric finally rose, his heavy cloak sweeping the floor. His voice was calm, but his eyes betrayed unease.
"Then we prepare for both war and prophecy. Send riders to the borders. Light the beacons along the coast. If the heavens themselves move against us, we will not be caught blind."
As his words echoed, a sudden tremor shook the citadel. Torches flickered. Dust rained from the rafters. The courtiers froze as a crack snaked across the marble floor, glowing faintly with a pale silver light.
The Seeress turned her head toward it, lips parting in a whisper only the closest could hear:
"It has begun."
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