When the trembling ceased, the palace held its breath.From the towers to the lowest halls, silence reigned—tense, expectant, broken only by the faint hum of wards reactivating.
Carmila and I reached the upper corridors just as the first commands echoed through the halls. Guards hurried past, priests muttered stabilizing chants, and nobles whispered of omens.
But before either of us could speak, a voice—cold and steady as night—cut through the confusion.
"Carmila. Lord Kaelthorn."
Queen Lysandra approached, her crimson mantle flowing behind her like the trailing edge of a storm. There was no anger in her face—only composure sharpened to steel.
"The tremor was not natural," she said. "The mana lines of the entire continent resonated at once. Tell me—what were you doing beneath my palace?"
Carmila tried to speak, but I stepped forward. "We were in the Blood Archive. The Obelisk reacted… to me."
Lysandra's eyes—ancient, measuring—narrowed slightly. "The Obelisk does not react to strangers."
"I'm aware," I said. "I didn't intend for it to happen."
Her gaze lingered on me for several breaths. "Then perhaps you have awakened what the old queens feared most."
She turned, motioning for us to follow. We walked in silence until we reached a small sanctum behind the throne hall—a circular room lit by faint violet fire. Old symbols covered the walls, etched into stone darkened by centuries.
Lysandra faced the altar at its center, her hand brushing the runes there. "Do you know why the vampires came to be, Lord Kaelthorn?"
"I know the stories," I said. "Born of night, rulers of shadow."
"Stories," she echoed, bitterly. "Truth is far humbler. We were born after the world changed. Three hundred years ago, mana erupted into existence—a flood of power that reshaped everything. Humans, beasts, even the laws of death itself. We were the result of that storm. The first generation who touched that new essence… and survived. We are children of mana, not its masters."
She turned, her gaze piercing. "Which is why what I felt today is impossible. The resonance that shook our world—it predates mana itself."
A silence followed. Then, softly, she said, "It matches something recorded only once before. In the Prophecy of the Absolute Being."
Carmila's breath caught. "Mother—"
Lysandra raised a hand. "You know the words. Speak them."
Reluctantly, Carmila lowered her head and whispered,
"When the Seal of Eternity stirs,and the sleeping Will awakens,one shall rise bearing the mark of the Infinite.The vessel of all that is, was, and shall be.The Absolute Being—who will rule existence, or end it."
The room dimmed as if the prophecy itself drew breath. The flames flickered violet-blue, shadows deepening around us.
Lysandra's eyes never left me. "That prophecy is older than mana, older than this world. It speaks of a being sealed beyond reality itself—a consciousness that sought to become reality. Its fall scattered universes. The first seers called it the Nameless Absolute."
Her voice lowered. "Tell me, Adrian Kaelthorn—what is it that sleeps within you?"
I hesitated. The truth had always been there, heavy as my heartbeat. I'd carried it in silence, in fear, in the edge of every dream.
"I don't know," I said at last. "It's always been there—as far back as I can remember. Maybe since birth. Maybe before. For years it was quiet. Just a weight under my skin, a whisper that faded when I ignored it. But lately…"
"Lately," she murmured, "it has begun to wake."
I nodded. "Sometimes I feel it looking through me. Like it's not trapped in me—but waiting for me to open the door."
The Queen's expression darkened with something close to awe—and dread. "If that is true, then you are not merely cursed. You are chosen by the oldest will in existence."
Her words fell like thunder in the quiet chamber.
Carmila turned toward her mother, eyes wide. "Chosen—for what?"
Lysandra's answer was barely more than a whisper."To finish what it began."
The air trembled faintly again—so subtle that only the runes on the altar flickered in response.
Lysandra looked back at me. "Understand this, Lord Kaelthorn. If that being wakes completely, no magic, no god, no world will remain untouched. Existence itself will kneel—or break."
I held her gaze. "Then tell me how to stop it."
Her silence stretched long. Finally, she said, "There may be no stopping it. But perhaps—there is still time to choose what you become when it calls your name."
Carmila stepped closer to me, her voice trembling. "And if he refuses it?"
Lysandra's expression softened, but her words were cold. "Then the Absolute will take what it's owed. It always does."
The flames guttered. Shadows crept up the walls. For a heartbeat, I swore I heard the faint echo of that same voice—the one from the Archive—whispering from somewhere beyond sense.
You cannot refuse me forever.
I looked at the Queen, the chamber, the world that suddenly felt far too fragile.
And for the first time, I realized what the seal truly meant.
It wasn't just holding something back.It was waiting for permission.