Chapter 20 — The Sealbearers
The cold wind struck her face like warning. Isabelle staggered out of the monastery's black iron gates just as the sun dipped beneath the tree line. She had not meant to stay so long — or perhaps time passed differently inside.
The gates slammed shut behind her, on their own.
She turned down the narrow woodland path. With every step, the shadows stretched longer. The trees creaked like old bones.
She wasn't alone.
Three figures emerged from the forest. Hoods drawn. Robes stitched with symbols she couldn't read, but somehow understood. One bore a brand across his face — a broken eye. The others wore gloves etched with mirror shards.
"You've been touched by the fracture," the branded man said. "You carry the scent of forbidden memory."
"I didn't choose this."
"No one ever does," he replied. "But choice is no longer the question."
They circled her, deliberate, ritualistic.
"We are the Sealbearers. Guardians of continuity. Watchers of the Glass. You have seen the seams. That makes you a threat."
Isabelle stepped back. Her hand brushed against the small silver mirror in her coat — the one she took from the monastery. It vibrated with heat.
"Don't move," said one. "The shard recognizes you."
Isabelle didn't listen. She threw the mirror to the ground — and the moment it shattered, light flared upward like a beacon.
The Sealbearers staggered, hissing. One clutched his face, the mark searing red-hot.
She ran.
Branches clawed at her coat. Roots grabbed at her boots. But the forest responded — not to her fear, but her defiance. Paths bent, trees shifted.
And still, she heard the chant behind her:
"The glass must hold. The cracks must seal."
She collapsed near a stream, gasping, soaked with sweat and night dew. The mirror's remnants pulsed in her pocket, shards somehow reformed.
This was only the beginning.
For now, the Sealbearers had failed.
But they would return.
And next time, they would bring more than words.