Before You Read Chapter 14: The Truth We Were Waiting For
This is the chapter where prophecy stops whispering.
Where history becomes personal.
Where identity becomes a question instead of a certainty.
You have seen Max face darkness and defy judgment, but now she faces something deeper...
A truth buried within her skin.
A scholar opens a book.
A name is spoken.
And everything changes.
This is not a chapter of battle, but of burden.
A truth long hidden begins to rise.
And with it, a warning.
Read slowly.
Watch what is said, and what is not.
Because the truth we longed for may be the beginning of something far worse.
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Lady Elsa's voice was smooth, deliberate. "Both of you have shown tremendous growth in the spiritual field. We have been watching you."
I exhaled slowly through my nose. Circles. We were going in circles.
Enough.
I cut straight through the dance. "Do you want us to join you?"
"Yes." Her smirk followed, as if she'd known the question before I asked it.
Leaning back slightly, she added, "I also heard about your... tiff with the Judicars. I'd rather have you with us than watch them tear down two of our best warriors. At the very least, we can offer more protection against them."
That last part hit like a hammer.
Eric stiffened beside me. I turned to him, and the expression on his face mirrored exactly what I felt.
Fury.
I shifted my gaze back to her, reclining in my seat, one leg crossing over the other. "And our teams?"
Her smile was warm, too warm. Like a cat promising the mouse a safe passage.
"Of course," she said smoothly. "Given what happened earlier, we know how protective you are of your teammates. How could we possibly exclude them from the... "
She paused, eyes flickering with something unreadable.
"... deal?"
I narrowed my eyes. A deal. So that's what this was.
Eric had been silent too long, and when he finally spoke, his voice was like steel wrapped in velvet.
"A deal," he repeated, slow and deliberate. "Deals are made between parties for mutual benefit." His eyes darkened, narrowing into slits. "So tell me, Lady Elsa..." He leaned forward just enough to tip the balance of power. "... what exactly do you gain from this?"
The gentleman to her right cleared his throat. "The Living Scripture of course."
And there it is.
The moment I have long waited for, someone to burst the 'Living Scripture' bubble.
When I asked Seth about this at the Labyrinth of Books, he was quick to mention that the right person would inform me at the right time.
I keep my expression blank. "And you are?"
He nodded his head and with a sincere apologetic smile rushed to introduce himself. "I am Neil. I used to work with Seth at the Labyrinth of Books."
The nail on the head. Seth the sly fox. Wait until I strangle the nonsense out of you.
My smile was tense but showed no malice. "Please do explain."
This subject must fascinate him because the glint in his eyes is like headlamps with their trajectory focus.
"The Living Scripture has been in existence since the beginning of time."
He slapped on some latex gloves, pulled an old, leather-bound book from his bag, and gently opened the ancient pages.
"The Living Scripture is not bound by mortal constraints, for it was never meant to perish. It is a law written into existence: immutable, unyielding. Laws do not die; they are revised, rewritten, or sealed."
He looked at me briefly to see if I was following, then continued reading from the book.
"Should the Vessel be struck down, its form shall fracture, not fade. The words upon its flesh will scatter, embedding themselves into the fabric of reality; hidden in stone, whispered in the wind, reflected in the waters of the unseen.
"In time, these words shall return, aligning once more and restoring what was broken... but never without consequence. A law rewritten is a law changed, and what is lost in the reformation may never be regained."
Yet beware: should the sacred script be intercepted, stolen, or defiled, the Vessel may rise altered, fragmented, or bound to another's will. For even the divine can be twisted in the hands of those who seek dominion over fate."
Lady Elsa leaned in, covering her mouth as she whispered something to him. Neil's eyes lit up, and just like that, his attention shifted fixed squarely on Eric and me.
He turned the pages with delicate precision until a faint smile touched the corners of his mouth. "I almost forgot the most important bit. This... will change your lives from here on out."
Adjusting his spectacles, he cleared his throat and continued reading:
"Yet the Flame alone does not endure, no fire breathes without air. And in times of great unraveling, the Breath shall find the Flame, not to consume, but to complete. Together, they are the Law fulfilled: one to ignite, the other to carry it forth."
He closed the book with a weighty thud, his gaze locking onto mine.
"You were never meant to die, Max. But that doesn't mean you cannot be rewritten."
I sat frozen, the weight of their words pressing down on me like an unseen force. My fingers twitched before I slowly brought them to the bridge of my nose, pinching it as if the pressure might somehow steady me.
Lady Elsa shifted in her seat and exhaled quickly as if to speak, but I raised a hand without looking up. Not yet. Just... give me a moment.
A thought slithered into my mind, cold and unwelcome. Have I been rewritten before? And what's this with the Flame and Breath bit? A shiver crawled down my spine, and my eyes snapped open.
I met their gazes, my voice steady despite the storm building inside me.
"Why don't I know these things about myself? Who is 'the Breath', the one destined to complete 'the Flame'?"
Lady Elsa hesitated, studying me with an expression I couldn't quite read.
"You might have been rewritten before..." Her voice trailed off, her stare unwavering. "... And quite a few times at that. But now that I've met you, I'm relieved. At least it's your memory that suffered, not your humanity."
I noticed a flicker of something, her brow tightened, but the expression vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
She shifted in her seat but didn't look away. Her voice was calm, but not without weight.
"We don't know who 'the Breath' is. But if you are meant to meet him... then I believe that time is now. For all we know, you may already have."
Neil let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head.
"No one knew you were 'the Flame', not at first. It was the signs that revealed you. Maybe... it's the same for him. Maybe you need to watch for the signs."
He paused, then added more seriously, "As the prophecy says: he may be the one who stops 'the Flame' from losing control. And trust me... if you had lost that, we wouldn't be sitting here having this conversation."
A part of me wanted to scoff, like I hadn't already burned through a dozen lives just trying to stay intact.
But beneath the storm of weariness and fire, something stirred.
Not a thought. Not a feeling.
A presence: patient, watchful, as if it had been waiting for this moment all along.
Eric didn't share his amusement. His jaw tightened. "Why?" His voice was sharp, almost accusing. "Would she turn into some kind of monster?"
Neil's smirk faded instantly, his expression growing grim. "Not quite." He leaned forward, fingers laced together. "She'd become a Hollow Vessel. And that... is something else entirely."
Eric's patience shattered like glass. His palm slammed against the table with a sharp crack, making Lady Elsa flinch. "Enough with the riddles! What factors? And why the hell are we the only ones hearing this?" He jerked his thumb toward me. "Her whole team should know."
Lady Elsa pushed to her feet, smoothing the front of her robe. For a moment, she simply stood there, her gaze unreadable, like she was weighing the weight of her next words. Then she nodded.
"You're right," she said finally. "Let's take a short break... then we'll call the others in."
They slipped out through the back door, their robes whispering against the stone floor.
I reached out, fingers tightening around Eric's arm before he could follow. "You need to control your emotions," I said, my voice low. "I don't think they're out to get us like the Judicars. They have answers, ones we need."
He exhaled sharply through his nose, the tension in his body refusing to ease. Then, with a reluctant grunt, he dropped back into his seat, dragging a hand down his face before gripping mine. "You're right," he admitted, but his grip tightened slightly. "But understand where I'm coming from."
His other hand moved to the back of his neck, kneading out the frustration coiled there. "Too many sects. Too many people sticking their hands in this. I feel like we're losing control." He lifted his gaze to mine, something raw behind his eyes. "Who do we trust?"
He looked at me then, really looked. His eyes weren't just frustrated, they were afraid. "And now there's this Breath they keep speaking of. Like it's someone you're destined to meet. Maybe... someone you already have."
He swallowed hard, his jaw clenched.
"What happens if they're right, Max? What if the Flame does need the Breath to be whole?"
A beat passed between us, thick and silent.
Then he added, barely above a whisper, "What if you already know who he is... and it's not me?"
I didn't answer.
Not because I couldn't but because something inside me tightened in a way that no words could soothe.
Because somewhere in the spaces between prophecy and memory... I think I already did know.
And that terrified me more than anything else.
I cupped his cheek, my thumb brushing softly against his skin. "We trust in God first," I said, voice gentle but sure. "Before anyone else, before any prophecy, any title."
His jaw relaxed just slightly under my touch.
"As for this Flame and Breath story... " I offered a faint smile, the kind that didn't quite reach my eyes. "... let's leave it for another day."
Because truth be told, I wasn't ready to face it either.
With that, we called in the others, giving them a quick rundown of what happened. They settled at the back of the chamber, the weight of the moment pressing down in the silence that followed.
Ten minutes passed. Then, the door creaked open, and Lady Elsa stepped back in, the others trailing behind her.
She surveyed the room, taking in the assembled team. "Seeing how close you all are," she began, "I assume the rest of you know what's happening?"
Nods all around.
"Good," she continued, folding her hands before her. "Because what we reveal next..."
She lets the silence sit, just long enough for the air to thicken, for every breath in the room to still.
"...is something you must commit to memory."
Another pause. This one heavier, like the calm before a reckoning.
"Max is possibly the most powerful person in the universe right now," she says at last, her voice low, reverent. "And we all have a responsibility to protect her." A collective intake of breath. The weight of her words landed hard.
Neil stepped forward, book in hand. He flipped it open with careful precision, the pages whispering against each other like secrets being spilled. "Before I explain, you'll all receive a memo with the details. Study it. Memorize it."
His fingers traced a passage on the aged parchment. "As we've said before, if the Living Scripture is rewritten, there's a possibility she could return as a Hollow Vessel."
He paused, glancing up.
"A Hollow Vessel," he continued, "experiences emotions as concepts rather than feelings. She would know what anger, love, and sorrow should feel like, but they wouldn't stir her. Instead of living emotions, she would imitate them."
Alec drummed his fingers on the table, then cleared his throat. "Can you elaborate on that? The concept of emotions."
Neil's eyes gleamed with interest, the kind of light that scholars get when given the chance to explain something profound. "Certainly," he said, straightening. "Take laughter, for example. Max would see you laughing and recognize that it signifies happiness. She might even remember how happiness once felt, how it bubbled in her chest, light and untamed. But it would be an observation, not an experience. The response would be learned, not lived."
Alec nodded in understanding, tossing him a thumbs-up. "Got it."
"Let's continue."
I continued watching Neil with mild amusement. He had that animated, over-caffeinated professor vibe, like someone who corrected encyclopedias in his spare time. I could only imagine what it was like watching him and Seth debate. Probably felt like eavesdropping on two search engines having an identity crisis.
"The more Max rewrites herself, the further she drifts from who she was. Memories fade. Connections sever. And when loved ones become nothing but names, her words, once driven by feeling, become nothing more than power."
A pause settled, as if the weight of the observation folded the air itself.
It was Jamey who broke the silence. "And what stops her from losing everything?"
No one answered. Not at first.
Then, almost too quietly, Lady Elsa said, "The Breath."
Alec stiffened beside me. Eric didn't look at me, he didn't have to. He already knew.
"What I'm about to say next might be the most important thing you hear," he warned. "If Max starts showing these signs, you must inform us immediately."
Alec, shifting uneasily in his chair, raised a hesitant hand. "Why?"
Neil's expression darkened. "Pain is a sensation, not an emotion," he said. "It's emotions that guide morality, that make us hesitate before committing an act, good or evil. Without them, Max's divine authority could become dangerous."
He paused, letting the weight of it sink in. "She might no longer distinguish between crime and circumstance. If a man steals a loaf of bread to feed his starving children, she wouldn't see desperation. She would see only the theft. And her judgment would be absolute."
Jamey swallowed, his gaze flicking to me. His face was pale. "That's terrifying."
Samuel's voice cut through the air like a question no one wanted to answer.
"Wait a second... who or what is this 'Breath'?"
Lady Elsa didn't answer right away. She leaned back, folding her hands in her lap, gaze distant. "The Breath is... balance."
A beat.
"Nothing more. Nothing less."
Alec blinked. "That sounds like a title."
"It is," she replied softly. "But not one given lightly."
Neil exhaled, shutting the book with a quiet finality. His next words settled over us like a shadow.
"You must protect Max from being rewritten until she meets this person." His voice was steady, but there was an urgency beneath it. "If she becomes a Hollow Vessel, she won't see the world as you do. There will be no mercy, no hesitation, only divine law."
Alec shifted in his seat, exchanging uneasy glances with the others. No one spoke, but the air between them bristled with the same unspoken fear that this wasn't just theory anymore. It was a warning. And it was personal.
"And if that happens..." Neil hesitated, his grip tightening on the book. He looked at me, not with fear, but with something heavier. "We might not be able to bring the Max we know and care for back."
A cold weight slid beneath my ribs, lodging tight and immovable.
Across from me, Eric's knee bounced once, hard, and the floor beneath his boot gave a soft crack, fine threads of pressure spidering across the stone like lightning under glass.
"Then what?"
His voice came low, but edged with something jagged. "What happens if she loses too much of herself?"
He leaned forward, elbows braced to his thighs, the air around him warping faintly as if stirred by heat.
"Who..." He bit it back. Swallowed. His jaw flexed, teeth grinding. Then, quieter, "... Who's supposed to stop her?"
Neil didn't look up.
The room held its breath.
Chairs shifted. A soft flicker passed through one of the glyph lamps.
But only one person kept their gaze fixed on me.
Eric.
His stare wasn't confused or curious. It was searching.
And beneath the search, something older stirred. A power coiled tight, unspent.
As if the answer had already occurred to him... and he was praying it wasn't true.
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Thank You for Reading Chapter 14: Finally, the Truth We Were Waiting For
The prophecy has begun to stir.
The edges are fraying.
And for the first time, they are starting to see her. Not just as Max, but as something they may not be able to stop.
If you felt uneasy by the end, that was no accident.
Eric's gaze carried more than worry.
Neil's silence spoke more than he revealed.
And the name "The Breath" will not be easily forgotten.