The chamber was the kind of dark that seemed to swallow sound, the kind you only find in places that have been forgotten for centuries. Dust drifted lazily through a single shaft of golden light, pouring in from a stained-glass window high above. That light splashed across the stone floor, breaking into wild patches of violet and crimson, like someone had spilled a handful of jewels and just left them there.
Right in the middle of it all, few figures stood perfectly still in front of a massive mirror, its frame twisted and black as midnight. You couldn't see their face, just the deep hood and the way the shadows clung to them, refusing to let go. But even without a face, you could feel it: this person had weight, like they bent the air around them, like time itself was holding its breath.
"She's awakening," the figure murmured, voice soft and cold, impossible to pin down as either man or woman.
Behind them, something shifted—a second figure, taller, wrapped in heavy armor that caught the light. Glowing runes crawled along their gauntlets, pulsing with a strange energy.
"She's already late," the armored one said, voice edged with impatience. "The veil's already thinning and the balance is tipping."
The hooded figure reached out and touched the mirror. Instantly, its surface rippled and came alive with images: there was a girl with wild-eyed, lightning practically crackling in her veins, clutching a pendant as if it was the only thing keeping her grounded. Light flared at her fingertips. And then, there was a boy, waiting. You could tell he'd been waiting for her forever.
"But she remembers enough," the hooded one said, almost to themselves. "Give her some more time. She'll remember more."
"And what about the others?" the armored figure pressed.
"They're moving. Quietly, but not quietly enough. The Order's watching her every step. And the House of Elarien is still hiding things, as always."
Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy.
"She doesn't even know what she's supposed to protect," the armored one said, shaking their head. "That makes her as an easy target."
The hooded figure tilted their head, a slow, almost amused gesture. "Or maybe it makes her dangerous."
The silence grew, pressing in from all sides. Then, just as suddenly as it had come to life, the mirror flickered and went black.
The hooded figure's voice dropped to a whisper, barely more than a breath. "She's started calling him by his true name. The rain's coming back."
And just like that, the chamber slipped back into stillness. The dust hung motionless in the fading light, and the colors on the floor slowly bled into a deep, haunting red.
* * *