The words on the desk—"The first seal is open."
They wouldn't leave her mind.
For the next few days, Kaylin barely slept. She moved through her classes like a shadow, every conversation drowned beneath the echo of that single sentence. When she closed her eyes, she saw the cracked mirror. When she opened them, she swore she could still feel it watching her.
The book hadn't written anything since. It just waited—silent, but alive.
Until the third night.
At precisely 3:33 a.m., the pages stirred again. The faint silver glow returned, and slowly, elegant lines of ink began to bloom across the parchment.
"There are seven seals under heaven. Seven voices that speak before the final dawn.
The first awakens the mirror.
The second sleeps beneath the earth.
The third lies in water.
The fourth burns in wind.
The fifth hums in blood.
The sixth sings through stars.
The seventh… ends all things."
Kaylin stared, breath caught in her throat.
Seven seals.
Seven forces.
Seven catastrophes waiting to unfold.
Her hands trembled as she flipped the page. Beneath the passage, the book revealed an ancient map—one that didn't belong to any geography she recognized. The continents were wrong, shifted like they were drawn before the Earth had settled. Scattered across it were faint symbols—some looked like constellations, others like scars.
But what caught her eye were the names. They were written in almost-human scripts, familiar yet foreign:
"Del'phar," "Bharos," "Tren'Xhi," "Atlareth," "Siverra," "Babyrin," and "Lunareth."
Each one pulsed faintly in silver ink.
The next day, she met Professor Laurent again. He looked even older, more drained than before, as if he hadn't slept either.
"You were right," Kaylin said quietly, laying the book on his desk. "It mentioned seven seals."
Laurent's eyes widened slightly. "Then it's begun again."
"What do they mean?" she asked.
He hesitated, fingers tracing the map. "In every age, seers and prophets have spoken of the end—not as a single event, but as a series of awakenings. You've heard of them under different names: the Seven Prophecies of V†, the Seven Flames of E-N, the Seven Stars of B∆. They all trace back to this."
He pointed at the serpent and star symbol on the corner of the map. "The D'Aubris crest. Your ancestors guarded one of these seals."
Kaylin frowned. "But what are they guarding from?"
Laurent looked at her gravely. "Not what. Who."
He slid a yellowed document across the desk. It was an ancient prophecy transcript — the handwriting matched that of her book. In its margins, someone had scrawled translations in several languages: Velic, Luneth, and finally, Common Script.
Kaylin read aloud:
"When the moon bleeds upon the mirror, the keeper shall awaken.
One born of noble blood shall hear the seven voices.
And when the last seal shatters, the heavens will fall in silence."
Laurent nodded. "That prophecy appears in multiple civilizations. The earliest copy we've found came from Babyrin, but fragments of it were also found in Bharos, in a manuscript linked to the child seer A-03, and in Tren'Xhi, within the tablets of the sage N-15. They all speak of the same event — a Lunar Reckoning — and the bloodline destined to witness it."
Kaylin's voice faltered. "You mean… me."
Laurent didn't answer.
That night, Kaylin returned home under a pale half-moon. The rain had stopped, but the air was thick, electric. She opened the book again, hoping for clarity, but instead, new words appeared—written as if by invisible hands:
"Seek the Whispering Earth.
Beneath stone and bone, the second seal sleeps."
The words began to fade almost immediately, replaced by lines in that strange ancient tongue:
> "ᛋᛖᚨᛚ ᛏᚹᛟ, ᛏᚹᛟ ᚹᛟᚱᛚᛞ. ᚠᚱᛟᛗ ᛖᚨᚱᛏᚻ ᚨᛚᛚ ᛋᛖᚨᛚᛋ ᚱᛁᛋᛖ."
(Seal two, two worlds. From earth, all seals rise.)
Kaylin touched the page gently—and the air trembled. For an instant, the floor beneath her seemed to hum, like there was something alive deep underground.
She drew her hand back quickly. The book snapped shut on its own.
Three days later, strange things began happening across the world.
On the news: a sinkhole had opened in Bharos, revealing a glowing cavern lined with inscriptions no one could translate. The locals claimed the cave "whispered."
In Velion, a meteor fragment landed near the Mont Aurion Spire, burning with blue fire that refused to cool.
In Tren'Xhi, a temple wall near Haiphyr cracked open, revealing a tablet etched with words eerily similar to the ones in Kaylin's book.
Each event happened within hours of each other.
Each, a seal.
That evening, Kaylin sat by her window again, scrolling through article after article. The world was panicking, but deep inside, she felt something worse—recognition.
She whispered, "It's starting…"
The book answered, its pages turning on their own.
"The earth stirs. The stars align. The voices gather."
And beneath that, faintly, as though someone was writing from far away:
"Beware the sixth. When the stars sing, the gate opens."
Kaylin's chest tightened.
She didn't know what the gate was, or what waited beyond it—but she knew this: the countdown wasn't just to the end of the world. It was to something awakening.
The room darkened. A gust of wind blew out her lamp.
And then, from the cracked mirror, came that voice again — older, clearer, familiar:
"Kaylin D'Aubris…"
She froze.
"…The seals remember you."
Her reflection smiled faintly, and this time, she didn't see herself at all.
She saw Elara D'Aubris — her ancestor — standing in the same room, holding the same book.
"Find them," Elara whispered. "Before they find you."
The glass shattered completely.
Kaylin gasped, clutching her bleeding hand, the book still glowing on the desk.
The pages fluttered wildly before stopping on a single line:
"Seal Two: The Whispering Earth."
And beneath it, written in fresh, glimmering ink:
"Location: Del'phar."
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End of Chapter 7
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