The room was shrouded in the dim glow of morning dawn, its flickering light casting long, dancing shadows on the walls. Aerin sat hunched over the round oak table, the ancient parchment spread out before her like a map to her undoing. The symbols etched into the delicate paper were like scratches of darkness, their meaning elusive, each stroke imbued with a malevolent presence. Her fingers brushed over the ink, now faded with time, but there was no mistaking the weight it carried. This was no ordinary message. This was the language of power, of secrecy.

She narrowed her eyes, struggling to comprehend the archaic symbols. Their sharp angles and curves seemed to shift in the lantern's light, almost as if they were alive, breathing with the dark magic that had crafted them. Her heart pounded in her chest, the air around her growing thick, heavy with an oppressive silence. She could feel it—something ancient, something watching. A shiver crawled up her spine.

Aerin's fingers trembled as they traced the strange symbols on the parchment. Each curve and line seemed to pulse with an otherworldly energy, sending shivers down her spine. The language was unlike anything she had ever seen before - ancient and foreboding.

"Any luck?" Talon's voice startled her from her trance. He approached the table, his brow furrowed with concern. Aerin shook her head, frustration evident in her voice. "Nothing. It's like trying to read smoke. The symbols keep shifting every time I think I've grasped their meaning."

Talon leaned in, his eyes scanning the parchment. "Maybe Mara would have better luck. This seems to be beyond normal magic."

As if summoned by her name, Mara emerged from her room, her face grave. "I've been consulting my oldest texts," she said, her voice low and serious as she approached the table. "This language... it's not just ancient, it's forbidden. The symbols are from a dark magic that was thought to be lost ages ago."

Aerin felt a chill run through her as Mara's words sank in. "Forbidden? What do you mean?"

Mara's eyes were shadowed with concern as she looked at the parchment. "This language was used by an ancient order of sorcerers who sought to harness the very essence of magic itself. They delved too deep, tapping into forces that should never have been disturbed. The resulting catastrophe nearly tore the world apart."

Mara shook her head and let out a long breath. “The stars remember what we have long forgotten. They watch, silent and unyielding, as we repeat the sins of those who came before.” She put her hands together like she looked cold and had touched something like ice.

Talon's hand instinctively moved to the hilt of his sword. "And now the Shadow Seekers are using it? This can't be good."

Beside her, Elden moved closer, his presence grounding her in the swirling uncertainty. His voice, low and rough, broke the stillness, "I've seen markings like this before..." He hesitated, as if the memory itself was a wound he hadn't fully healed from. "We found a scroll, much like this one. It led us to a trap, and I lost half my men that day." His jaw tightened, the pain of the past still fresh in his eyes.

Aerin glanced at him, noting the way his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "And now we walk into the same darkness," she murmured, her voice laced with a bitter edge. The weight of her task pressed harder against her chest, and she fought to breathe evenly. "These symbols... they don’t just carry words, they carry history. Pain." Her voice dropped to a whisper as her eyes met his. "And death."

Elden's gaze softened, his hardened exterior slipping away for a moment. "You're not alone in this, Aerin," he said, his voice steady despite the storm in his eyes. "I know what it feels like to be haunted by ghosts, to carry the weight of something you can't control." He reached out, hesitating just long enough for her to see the vulnerability in him before his hand touched hers, warm and calloused.

The contact was brief, but it was enough. A spark—fleeting but undeniable—passed between them. It was more than just the closeness of their hands. It was the bond of shared loss, of shared burdens. It was a fire that neither had asked for.. A fire that had started in the darkest of places.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Aerin swallowed, her throat tight. She wasn’t used to this—letting anyone in. Her world had been one of isolation, of vengeance. And yet, here, in the suffocating shadows of forgotten tongues, she found herself leaning into the warmth of Elden's presence.

Her eyes dropped back to the parchment, her fingers tracing one of the more intricate symbols. "These markings," she murmured, "they aren’t just random. They’re a key... but to what?" She could feel the magic pulsing beneath her fingertips, dark and ancient, like blood running through long-dead veins. She searched deep within her own magic. Mara and Talon had both said that her magic was old, and powerful.

Her breath slowed as she allowed the magic within her to stir. It was like tapping into something deep, something buried beneath layers of time and fear. Aerin had always known she was different, but she had never fully embraced the power that flowed through her veins. It had always been too dangerous, too unpredictable. But now, with the weight of the symbols before her and the need for answers pressing heavily on her chest, she had no choice.

She closed her eyes, feeling the magic pulse beneath her skin, a rhythm that seemed to sync with the symbols on the parchment. It was as if the markings called to her, reaching out through time, begging to be understood. Her fingers tingled as she traced them once more, the ancient language awakening something within her—something old, something powerful. The world around her seemed to fade, and she was no longer sitting in that dimly lit room. Instead, she was somewhere else—somewhere dark and cold, where shadows whispered secrets.

And then it came. A flood of understanding, like a torrent of icy water, rushing through her mind. The symbols were not just letters; they were a map, a guide. And within them was the key to a power that had been long forgotten.

She opened her eyes, her voice trembling with realization. "It’s a prophecy," she whispered. "Not of what is to come, but of what once was."

Elden shifted nervously beside her, his eyes narrowing. "A prophecy? Of the past?"

Aerin nodded, her hands trembling slightly as she stared at the parchment. "This is Hazrael’s legacy. His rise to power, his betrayal... and the creation of a weapon—a weapon that could control the very fabric of magic itself."

She looked up at Elden, her heart pounding. "These symbols... they speak of the Heart of Shadows—an ancient artifact that once belonged to the bloodline of kings and queens. It was lost in the wars that followed Hazrael's reign. If found, it could give the wielder power over life, death, and everything in between."

Elden's face darkened, his eyes flashing with knowledge. "And Hazrael… he sought to use it now?"

Aerin’s voice dropped to a whisper, filled with dread. "Not just to use it—he wanted to bind it to his own bloodline as he is not descended from previous kings and queens. To ensure that no one else could ever challenge him. But the Heart rejected him... and it was hidden away, guarded by the very magic he sought to control." She looked back at the parchment, the weight of her discovery settling heavily on her shoulders. "This map... it leads to where the Heart of Shadows was last seen."

The room seemed to grow colder, the shadows deepening. There was something dangerous about this knowledge, something that tugged at the edges of Aerin’s mind, warning her. The Heart of Shadows had the power to destroy kingdoms, to reshape the world. And now she had the means to find it.

But at what cost?

She could feel the magic within her, humming with a fierce intensity, as though it recognized the gravity of the discovery. Mara had once warned her that her power was tied to ancient forces, that she would need to be cautious of the paths she walked. Now, she understood what that meant.

Elden’s voice was grim, pulling her back to the present. "If we follow this map, if we find the Heart…?” He sounded hesitant and nervous.

Aerin hesitated, her pulse quickening. "I don’t know," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I think… I think it’s the only way to stop Hazrael’s descendants from reclaiming their hold on this land. If they find the Heart before us… everything will be lost."

For a long moment, they sat in silence, the weight of the decision pressing down on them. The air in the room felt thick, as if the very shadows were listening, waiting. The prophecy had revealed its secrets, but it had also set them on a path that could lead to unimaginable destruction.

She had spent so long running from her power, from the truth of who she was. The time for fear was over. She would find the Heart of Shadows, she would wield its power—no matter the cost.

Aerin looked at Elden, the weight of their shared purpose heavy between them. They had both lost too much. They both had too much to fight for. And now, with the pieces of a forgotten past laid bare before them, they were on the brink of something far greater than either had imagined. The darkness was thick, suffocating, but there was also power here. Power that could either destroy them or make them unstoppable.

"We have to be careful," she whispered, as much to herself as to Elden. "This isn't just about revenge anymore."

"No," Elden sighed, his gaze steady, unflinching.

As the dawn turned to day, they sat together trying to gather their thoughts about what just happened.

Aerin stood up, looking at Elden. “Follow me, I want to show you Yaveria”