Vael stopped before the portal. The mystical glow reflected in his eyes like a memory from another era.
"From here on, Miss... the path is yours alone"
Lígia hesitated. Her body still pulsed with the energy she had felt since the mountain. She looked at the portal, then at Vael. Her throat went dry.
"So... see you later" she murmured
She took the first step. Her feet paused over the stone. A wind blew from behind, as if the world itself gently pushed her forward
And then... she crossed
"May all go well, Miss" Vael's voice echoed like a buried blessing, like a whisper suspended in time
The portal closed behind her with a muffled sound. Like a breath held in
There was no return
Only a dark corridor, lit by crystals embedded in the walls
The sound of her own footsteps echoed for miles
Tap. Tap. Tap.
No wind. No birds
Just her. And her reflection in the crystals, watching her like silent ghosts
At the base of the chamber, where black obsidian stairs led to a gray stone plateau, a statue rose
Majestic. Intimidating
A tall man, firm jaw, stubbled beard, eyes carved to judge. He wore an old guard uniform, a long cape fastened with the Crimson Rose brooch. Arms crossed over his chest, like someone silently observing his descendants
Lígia felt a shiver
The name rose to her lips like a living memory
"The Ancestor... Auren"
She stood there for a moment. Her gaze locked with his. Even made of stone, there was presence. Something that looked back
As if Auren was still there, within the mountain, waiting
But this was no time to stop
When she looked ahead, Lígia saw it
A colossal structure of black and red stone stood like a crown of thorns. Crimson roses bloomed everywhere, winding around the pillars, flowering through the cracks, as if the temple itself fed them
It was brutal. Ancient. Beautiful
She walked
The sound of her steps blended with the silent murmur of history
The air vibrated around her
As she passed through the threshold, the doors opened with a whisper. As if the mountain recognized her
There, at the center of the temple, stood her father
Dressed in a dark ceremonial cloak, embroidered with silver stars. He stood, his gaze—calm and dangerous—wrapped around her like a snare
He slowly rose from the altar where he had been kneeling
The Duke's gaze was like an abyss. You didn't fall into it. It pulled you in
"Are you ready"
The question fell like thunder
Lígia choked on her own breath
"Y-Yes...?" she said, more question than certainty
The Duke raised an eyebrow. He sighed
The temple, silent, judged
The roses looked like eyes
The father, a mirror
The anxiety grew
She looked away, searching for anything to break the weight. But everything was... unchanging
The Duke stepped forward
His cloak rippled slightly, as if even the air bowed to him
He climbed the black stone steps to the platform
Without looking back, he said
"Come. We must begin the ritual"
Lígia felt her feet rooted to the floor
Her heart pounded like a war drum
But that voice... that ancestral command was impossible to disobey
She walked
Each step to the platform sounded like a vow
The circle of stone at the top was a living mandala
Symbols carved in spirals. Runes forming a stylized rose—petals and thorns spinning in silence. The floor seemed to pulse
At the center, a six-pointed star intertwined with flowing ribbons. Roots of a flower that had slept for centuries
Her father watched her
His gaze softer. Still firm
"You must stay calm and rational" he said
"What you see in the ritual... varies"
"What do you mean"
He walked in circles around the mandala
His voice echoed
"For some, it's light as a breeze. For others, a nightmare that shreds the mind. We've learned over the centuries that reason is the anchor. The only thing that keeps the Awakening from consuming the soul"
Lígia took a deep breath
She hesitated. Just for a moment
"Are we starting now"
"Yes"
"T-then... okay"
She walked to the center
Sat cross-legged
The stone was cold. A shiver ran up her spine
She breathed
One... two... three...
"I'm ready"
The Duke observed her face
And then, for the first time that night, he smiled
Not for comfort
For pride
Without a word, he drew the ceremonial dagger from his belt
The dark blade, marked with red inscriptions, whispered in a forgotten tongue
With surgical precision, he cut his left wrist
The blood ran, thick and dark, almost black under the ritual light, and fell onto the runes as if it knew the path
As it touched the mandala, the lines lit up
The blood flowed along the markings like rivers destined for a forgotten place
The circle glowed scarlet
The words rose in spirals of fire
And then, he spoke. Firm, solemn, as if sealing a universe
"Ruth'valore Elthren D'Ar Serath"
The world held its breath
The ground exploded in crimson light
Runes spun
Lines of power burned like liquid fire
The words took form. Serpents of flame danced around her, twining like constellations at war
The air pulsed
Reality trembled
The walls vibrated with a soundless chant. A music only the soul could hear
The Awakening had begun
The heat. The power. The chaos... rushed toward her
Still
She took a deep breath
And thought, one last time, before diving in
"I will succeed"
At the edge of the circle, the Duke watched her
The flames reflected in his eyes
A brief, true smile touched his lips
"Good luck, my dear"
And then...
the world went silent