---
The city was alive again. After days in her grandmother's countryside home, Kaylin D'Aubris found herself back in the polished walls of her family's mansion, a sprawling estate lined with glass and marble. The glittering lights of the skyline bled into her windows, but no amount of wealth or luxury seemed to dull the gnawing thought that had followed her from the village: the book.
It was there, lying motionless inside her suitcase, wrapped in a silk scarf she had hastily tied around it. She had thought distance from the old house would give her relief, but the moment she stepped into her room, the presence of the book grew heavier, like an invisible hand pressing down on her chest.
That night, sleep refused to come. She tossed, turned, stared at the ceiling. And when she finally slipped into a shallow dream, she saw again the strange script. The letters drifted like smoke, rearranging themselves into impossible combinations. A voice whispered through the haze:
"Kal'thara… eni vosh'ren… the reckoning begins."
Her eyes flew open. The room was silent, except for the faint hum of the city below. But on her desk, the book lay open—though she had left it tied shut. She sat up slowly, her heart hammering, and walked toward it. The pages fluttered as if stirred by wind, though her windows were sealed. And then, before her eyes, ink bled across the parchment, curling into symbols she had not seen before.
It was writing itself.
She froze, watching line after line appear in the alien script. The ink shimmered faintly as if alive, before settling into black permanence.
> "ᚴᚨᛚᚦᚨᚱᚨ ᛖᚾᛁ ᚹᛟᛋᚺᚱᛖᚾ — The first seal has been broken.
ᛏᚺᛖ ᚱᛖᚲᚴᛟᚾᛁᛜ ᛒᛖᚷᛁᚾᛋ.
Her breath caught. Mixed into the script was English—fragmented, crude, but clear enough. The first seal? Broken? She pressed her trembling fingers to the page. The parchment was warm, almost feverish to the touch.
A sharp knock startled her.
"Miss, are you awake?" It was Mei, the family's long-time housekeeper.
Kaylin snapped the book shut, shoving it beneath her desk. "Yes, Mei. Just… couldn't sleep."
"Try some warm tea," Mei said gently before walking away.
But the tea did not come, and Kaylin suspected Mei hadn't truly meant it.
---
The following morning, the weight of exhaustion clung to her, yet she could not resist opening the book again. The new writing was still there, unmoving, waiting. But at the very bottom of the page, faintly scratched as if by a dull blade, another phrase appeared:
"Three nights… look to the skies."
Her pulse quickened. A message, a warning. She wanted to dismiss it as her imagination, a trick of sleeplessness. Yet something in the words rang true, humming with the same energy that had filled her dreams.
At school, she found herself distracted, unable to concentrate on lectures. During lunch, her best friend Celine waved a hand in front of her.
"You've been spacing out all week. What's going on?"
Kaylin hesitated, her throat dry. She had never told anyone about the book. To speak of it felt like breaking a fragile pact. Still, the need to share clawed at her.
"It's nothing," she lied, forcing a smile. "Just… strange dreams."
But that evening, while scrolling through the news, a headline caught her eye: "Astronomers Predict Rare Celestial Alignment in Three Days."
Her blood turned cold.
Three nights. Look to the skies.
---
That night, the book awoke again. This time, the writing was more frantic, the ink darker, as though etched with desperation.
> "ᚨᛚᛚ ᛏᚺᚨᛏ ᚲᚨᚾᚾᛟᛏ ᛒᛖ ᚢᚾᛋᛏᛟᛈᛈᛖᛞ — All that cannot be unstopped.
The stars will align. The beginning trembles."
Kaylin scribbled the lines down into her notebook, her hand shaking. She did not know what the words meant fully, but she knew enough: the book was predicting something, something real.
Sleep evaded her once more. Instead, she researched through the night, pulling up articles on unexplained phenomena, prophecies, visions. She stumbled upon names she had only vaguely heard before: Baba Vanga, Nostradamus, the Indian boy prodigy who claimed to foresee global catastrophes. Prophecies that had terrified people for years, some fulfilled, others lingering like shadows.
And now—was she holding another?
Her phone buzzed suddenly, making her jump. It was a message from Celine: "Hey, did you see the news? They say some people are already reporting strange lights in the sky."
Kaylin glanced at the window. The sky was empty, at least for now. But deep in her chest, she felt the truth pressing down on her like a storm about to break.
She turned to the book again. And there, scrawled newly across the margins, words formed in jagged, childlike handwriting—though she knew no human hand had written them.
"The reckoning does not wait. It watches. It counts."
A chill rippled through her. The countdown had begun.