"When the light and dark bends,
When the world cries,
The Chosen carries the weight of the world.
Even if the time stands still,
The Garriors shall rise."
The verses started mid-afternoon, and the sky had brightened to its utmost. Every corner of the world must have been lit. Shadows faded. Colors seemed sharper. The strange sight returned above the ground. But this time, it was different.
The black and white orbs had returned, spinning gently in their perfect circle above the earth. Only now, they were no longer alone. Dozens of smaller orbs — glowing softly in hues of red, blue, green, gold, and violet — floated around them, circling like a protective shell. Almost like the colored ones had come to surround them, to guard them. By now conversations had halted and the heads turned to the ground. Then, just as before, the sky split open but this time, only in one place. From it, Kaelen emerged, flanked by six others.I glanced around at the people near me — some wide-eyed with anticipation, others buzzing with eagerness. A few frozen with quiet fear. And, of course, one or two with the flat look of someone who just wanted their breakfast back.
"Um... it seems Kaelen skipped lunch," Kael whispered beside me.
"Huh?"
"Well, he seems to be eating something right now. Look at his hand," Tavira chimed in, squinting.
"You can see that from here?" Eron asked, genuinely bewildered.
"We're not four-eyed like you, Eron," Favian teased, elbowing him lightly.
"I wear glasses, not binoculars, thank you very much," Eron huffed.
At that moment, I heard Libra cry out, clutching her chest. Her knees buckled, and she dropped into a squat right there on the platform.
"Libra!" I rushed to her, heart suddenly racing. The banter stopped instantly. Everyone turned. She was shaking, her face pale. Miran was already beside her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, trying to steady her.
"Breathe," he whispered urgently. "You're okay. I've got you."
"What's happening?" I asked, kneeling beside her.
Libra looked up, eyes wide and glassy. "It feels... suffocating. Like something's wrapped around my chest and just keeps squeezing."
Miran held her closer, his face tight with worry. "You're okay. You're right here with me. Just breathe, alright? In and out."
She nodded weakly, but her breathing stayed shallow.
Tavira hovered beside me, biting her lip. "Is this like... a panic attack?"
"I don't know," I said, my voice low. "She's never had one before. At least, not that I've seen."
"It seems you might be one of the early bloomers," a calm voice said above us.
We all turned.
A figure stood at the edge of the rooftop railings — short, dressed in layered robes that shimmered slightly in the light. His features were sharp, ageless, almost childlike. Favian, Kael, Tavira, and Eron had instinctively moved, standing around Miran and Libra in a protective circle. I stood just ahead of them, blocking the figure's direct path.
"What do you mean?" I asked cautiously, my voice steady despite the tight coil of nerves forming in my stomach. The boyish figure tilted his head slightly, studying us as if we were far more interesting than the glowing sky behind him.
"Oh, my name is Herald," he said suddenly, as if that answered everything. While saying this, he turned toward his group and raised one hand, holding up a single finger — a signal.
What an obvious way to change the subject. My eyes narrowed. "That doesn't explain anything."
He just grinned. And then, without a word more, he vanished. A swirl of smoke curled around where he'd stood.
Favian blinked. "Did he just vanish mid conversation?"
Tavira scowled. "That little drama king."
"Is Libra okay?" I asked quickly, turning back.
Miran still had his arms around her, steadying her as she clutched his sleeve. Her breathing was shallow but slowing, her face still pale. Then suddenly, it was as if the air around Libra imploded. A shockwave burst outward, invisible but forceful. Miran was hurled backward like a rag doll, ripped from her side and flung toward the edge of the platform.
"Watch it!" Kael shouted, and he and Eron barely managed to catch him before he hit the ground. But it wasn't just Miran. A ripple spread through the rooftop like a wave of pressure tearing through the air. People nearby staggered or fell to their knees. A series of sudden jerks, gasps, and cries echoed around us. Miran groaned, clutching his head as he crouched down again. Beside him, Tavira did the same, her face twisted in pain.
What the hell was going on?
Honestly, I couldn't tell where this began or where it was headed.
"What's happening to them?" I asked, voice cracking more than I wanted it to.
Favian was now supporting Tavira, who was still crouched down, hands shaking. "Tavi," he whispered, brushing her hair out of her face. "Hey, talk to me. What's going on?" His voice cracked slightly, all the usual sarcasm gone. She didn't respond. Just pressed a trembling hand to her temple, eyes squeezed shut.
"I swear," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else, "if something's hurting her, I'll—"
"Favian," I said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. "She's strong."
Others were reacting too. Libra, Miran, even a few students on the lower terrace — something was happening to all of them.
Still, his eyes stayed locked on his sister, jaw clenched. "She's strong," he repeated. "But I've never seen her like this."
"Vira'en solas. Tra mar aen. Linthiras kara. E'vahn solir kaeth..."
Kaelen had stepped forward, his expression unreadable, and raised one hand. Then he began to chant. It wasn't loud, but it filled the air — a steady stream of ancient-sounding syllables. On and on it went, but the longer he chanted, the worse it got. Around me, more people cried out, doubling over in pain. The pressure in the air was unbearable.
Kaelen didn't stop. For nearly two minutes, his voice echoed against the rooftop, against the sky, against our bones. Then like someone flipping a switch devices flickered to life.
Phones buzzed. Screens lit up.
The students who had clutched their hearts now stood above the ground, dazed, drifting into position. They formed the outer ring around the glowing orbs. Those who had gripped their heads moved more slowly, forming an inner ring just within. Two concentric circles — like orbiting satellites, drawn by an invisible pull, no words exchanged, no instructions given.
"Hey, look at this," Siara said suddenly, her voice unusually sharp. "People have started livestreaming from different countries."
She held out her phone. I leaned in. Across the globe, in other college grounds and open spaces, similar scenes were unfolding. Different people. Different skies. But the same formation — two circles, always two.
And at the center, in every single stream, stood Kaelen.
The same robes. The same raised hand. The same orbs spinning behind him.
"Wait," I whispered. "Is he... everywhere?"
"I don't think he's physically here at all," Favian muttered, suddenly cold. "They're projecting. Illusions, maybe. Their real bodies might be somewhere else entirely."
If we ever wanted to fight them — protest against what they were doing, stop them from taking our loved ones — how were we supposed to hit something we couldn't even touch? I felt helpless. And I wasn't alone. Some faces around me were just as lost. Others... were filled with awe. Or envy. That's when Siara said it — soft, hesitant, but enough to shatter something inside me.
"Arien," she whispered, her eyes still fixed on the screen, "isn't that your sister in one of the circles from the Reykjavík broadcast?"