The morning after the sky burned green, the world refused to return to normal.
News outlets flooded the internet with explanations: solar flares, atmospheric anomalies, mass hallucination. But Kaylin knew better. The book had predicted it—down to the very word. She could feel it pulsing faintly under her desk, as though it were breathing.
That day, she couldn't focus on school. Every sound in class blurred together. Every face around her looked unreal. When the final bell rang, she walked out into the golden haze of afternoon, her thoughts spinning faster than her footsteps.
She needed answers.
Her mother was waiting at home, sitting by the piano with a letter in her hand. The sight was strange — her mother rarely looked fragile, but now, her fingers trembled.
"Kaylin," she said quietly, "I think you should see this."
It was an old envelope, sealed with red wax. The wax bore an insignia — a crest shaped like a winged serpent coiled around a silver star.
"This came from France," her mother whispered. "From the old estate. Your grandfather's lawyers sent it. They said the inheritance records have been reopened."
Kaylin frowned. "Inheritance? From who?"
"From your ancestors," her mother replied, eyes distant. "From the House of D'Aubris. It seems… they found something in the ruins of the old château."
The word ruins echoed through Kaylin's mind like a tolling bell.
Ruins. Château. A family she had only heard about in fragments—people of title and tragedy. Her mother never spoke much about them, only that the D'Aubris line had "fallen" long ago, swallowed by time and scandal.
She reached for the envelope. The wax cracked under her thumb. Inside was a single sheet of parchment, yellowed but unblemished by age. Written in flowing black ink, in the same ancient script as her book, were the words:
"To the last of the bloodline, bearer of the mark unseen, the seal calls to thee once more. Return to where the stars fell, for the house remembers."
Kaylin's breath caught. The handwriting — it was identical to the book's.
That night, the wind howled like something alive. Kaylin sat on the edge of her bed, the book open before her, the letter beside it. When she laid them side by side, she noticed it—the crest of the D'Aubris house embossed faintly on the book's corner.
So it had belonged to her family.
Her fingers traced the serpent and the star. The instant she did, the ink beneath the crest shimmered faintly, revealing a hidden inscription in that same celestial tongue:
> "ᚨᛚᛚ ᛒᛚᛟᛟᛞ ᛋᛖᛖᛋ ᚹᛁᛚᛚ ᚱᛖᛏᚢᚱᚾ."
(All blood sees will return.)
The words pulsed like a heartbeat. The air around her thickened, heavy with warmth and whispering voices.
For a moment, the shadows on the wall stretched too far. Her own reflection in the window seemed to move a split second later than she did. And through the glass, she thought she saw a silhouette—a tall figure standing among the trees beyond the fence.
But when she blinked, it was gone.
The next day, Kaylin went to the library at her university, desperate to find anything about the D'Aubris family. The librarian, an older woman with gentle eyes, frowned when she saw the name.
"D'Aubris?" she murmured. "You don't hear that often anymore… that family vanished over a century ago. Some say they were one of the last noble lines tied to the old covenants."
Kaylin leaned forward. "Covenants?"
The woman hesitated, then lowered her voice. "There were rumors, child. They said the D'Aubris family protected something sacred. A relic, perhaps—a book written in a tongue that no scholar could translate. The last heir, Lady Elara D'Aubris, died during a fire that consumed their château. No one ever found her remains."
Kaylin's pulse quickened. Lady Elara. The name tugged at her memory, like a thread she couldn't pull free.
When she returned home, she opened the book again and whispered, "Elara D'Aubris."
The pages flipped violently, as if guided by unseen hands. Ink bloomed across the parchment in looping letters:
"She was the keeper before you."
Kaylin's heart stopped.
She pressed her hand against her chest, trembling.
"Before me?" she whispered.
"The blood remembers its duty. The seals must not break."
Her lips quivered. The book—her ancestor's book—was speaking directly to her.
That night, she dreamed.
She stood in a grand hall of marble and moonlight, beneath chandeliers that dripped with glass like frozen tears. A woman stood at the far end—tall, elegant, with the same dark hair and pale eyes as Kaylin. Her gown shimmered with threads of silver, and in her hands, she held the book.
"Kaylin…" The woman's voice was soft, echoing, filled with sorrow. "You should not have opened it."
"Who are you?" Kaylin asked.
"I am what remains of your blood. I am Elara."
The name rang through her bones.
Elara stepped closer. "When the first seal broke, I failed to protect the world from what came through. The book chose you now because the last gate trembles. You must not let it fall."
Kaylin wanted to ask more, to reach for her, but the world around them cracked like shattered glass. Light poured through, blinding, and when she woke—
The book was open.
And across the page, new words gleamed in molten gold:
"The blood awakens. The House of D'Aubris rises."
For a long time, Kaylin sat in silence, staring at the words. Outside, dawn spilled its soft light through her curtains, painting her room in quiet silver.
But deep inside, something ancient stirred — not fear, not curiosity, but recognition.
She felt it in her pulse, in her breath, in her very bones.
The book was no longer just a curse. It was her inheritance.
And for the first time, Kaylin D'Aubris whispered the truth aloud:
"…I am the last of the bloodline."
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End of Chapter 5
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