Vaticinia Caelorum- The Prophecy That Destroyed The Heavens

It was the night of the Annual Duel.

The air above Aetheria shimmered with anticipation, thick with magic and moonlight. No one in the kingdom had slept—not the watchful eyes of the priestesses in the Cloud Temples, not the young-budding wielders, not even the youngest skyborn child of Aetheria.

This was the tradition of Aetheria.

Every year, the heavens lit with anticipation.

The Duel brought together the mightiest of Aetheria's gifted wielders— of Air, of Water, of Storm, of Lightning, of Metals and all the other wielders of the sacred arts. They came not just to fight, but to prove, to shine, to claim their names in the history of Aetheria.

But this year… this year was different.

This year, two royals stood among them.

The Crown Heir, Kael, already famed across the skies for his command over cyclones and his godly strength.

And the Infante-The Princess of The Heavens, Serenya. The second-born of The Queen. The Supreme Mother.

The crowd had gasped when her name was called. No Infante had ever fought the battle. She was meant to be ceremonial—a symbol of divinity and grace, not a warrior of wind and lightning.

But the moment she stepped onto the arena, the sky seemed to have shifted. Even before the final duel began, the people could feel it: something extraordinary was about to unfold. Aetheria itself seemed to hold its breath.

And it proved to be true—on the last and final day of the Duel. Between Crown Heir, Kael and Serenya..

That night, beneath the vast celestial dome of the palace observatory, she stood alone with her mother. Just moment before the final duel. The stars above them pulsed faintly through the glasslike roof, as if witnessing it all unfold. The Queen's robe shimmered with woven threads of aether, and her presence, immense, unshakable, filled the space like wind fills lungs.

The Supreme Mother of the Heavens-Ruler of Aetheria. Goddess to many. Mother to two.

Her voice, when it came, was soft—but it echoed in Serenya's bones like prophecy.

"Are you sure, Serenya? This is not a duel you may ever be able to take back. What happens tomorrow… it may shape our future. Or unravel it. For better—or for worse."

There was no fire in her tone. No urgency. Only calm. Too calm. Serenya's breath was rising inside her metal armour. She could feel the metal-cold against her skin. Her mother never liked the idea of her entering the contest. But she did.

Serenya lifted her chin.

"Mother, I know you were always against me entering the duel," she said, carefully. "But I know what's in my heart. I've always done what I believe is right. What's best for Aetheria—and its people."

Her voice grew stronger.

"And I believe that this duel is exactly that. It's not about winning. Or losing. Competing against Brother at all—that is my victory. That's all I need."

The Queen watched her in silence for a moment. Her gaze searched Serenya's face as though searching for just an ounce of doubt. Then, finally, the Supreme Mother gave a single nod.

A faint smile touched her lips, but it didn't reach her eyes.

"Very well then," she said. "I have nothing more to say."

And with that, Serenya and Kael stepped onto the battlefield.

The Skyward Arena—vast and sacred—established aeons before. It stretched before them like the open sky. It was the largest space in all of Aetheria, forged by the elves and the great wielders of the past, hovering high above the capital city. Beneath them, the air pulsed with energy.

And above?

Millions of voices rose in thunder.

The kingdom had come alive.

Every corner of Aetheria had gathered here—enthusiasts from the farthest parts of Aetheria. The chants echoed across the clouds, some for the Crown Heir, others—surprisingly many—for the Infante. 

But not all.

Some eyes sparkled with hope as many others glinted with doubt.

But two faces anchored her. Her childhood friends-her clan.

Riven stood near the eastern overlook, his expressions hard to read. His dark-blue eyes followed her like a hawk, his arms folded across his chest—stern, unreadable to most. But Serenya knew him better than most. She knew he was scared for her. He gave her the slightest nod.

Right beside him, Lyara was a heartbeat of movement—shifting on her toes, wringing her hands, her face filled with anticipation, fear but also.....pride. Her lips moved soundlessly:

You've got this.

Serenya breathed in slowly. Their faces steadied her. Just for a moment, she wasn't standing before all of Aetheria. She was standing before them.

And she wasn't going to let them down.

And then her gaze flickered toward the royal gallery.

There sat the Supreme Mother. Silently watching her every move.

Serenya swallowed hard. She had acted like her mother's words hadn't planted a doubt in her—but they had. There was a quiet dread churning low in her stomach now, steady and sickening.

Her fingers twitched.

"This is all I've ever wanted."

"This is all I've ever worked for."

"Focus, Sere. Focus."

She centered herself. Slowed her breath. She could feel all the eyes on her.

Across the ring, Kael rolled his shoulders back, wind curling lazily around his arms like snakes waiting to strike. His stance was solid. His eyes—fierce. But not cruel.

It was.....brotherly.

And for a moment, Serenya felt the warmth of that. The brother who had trained her. Who had carried her on his back as a child. Who had taught her to control air.

But now?

Now he was her opponent.

A tremor ran through the clouds. Somewhere, a ceremonial horn sounded—a deep, vibrating tone.

The Duel had begun.

Queen Elira, the Supreme Mother of the Heavens, watched from her throne in the sky.

She did not speak. She did not blink. Her gaze—cold and commanding—remained fixed on the two children she had raised… and the future they were about to rewrite.

Below her, the clouds swirled into chaos.

Serenya gripped the hilt of her lightning-forged blade, the static humming beneath her skin like a second heartbeat. Wind gathered at her heels. With a sharp breath, she rose—air folding beneath her feet like invisible wings.

Kael stood still, bare-handed.

He didn't need weapons.

Around him, the sky rumbled, and with a flick of his wrist, he summoned the storm. Rain sheeted across the arena. Thunder cracked like bone. Then, twisting from the clouds behind him, came the tornado—a monstrous spiral of wind and fury, spinning like a god's wrath given form.

The crowd roared.

Serenya moved first.

She launched a spear of lightning, sharp and bright, straight at Kael. He caught it—not with his hands, but by dragging the wind sideways, diverting the bolt into the clouds. Then he laughed—not mockingly, but with genuine thrill.

He was holding back.

He still thought this would be easy.

With a whirl of motion, Kael ascended—using his own tornado to lift himself into the sky. His silhouette blurred in the stormlight, his power swelling with the rhythm of the elements. The air howled. The rain thickened.

Serenya struggled to hold position. Her blade flickered, her arms trembling.

Minutes passed. Or was it seconds?

She couldn't keep up. Kael's strength was monstrous, and his control—flawless. Her own body ached from dodging winds she could barely see. Her lungs burned. The air beneath her feet felt thinner by the moment.

She was losing.

She knew she was losing.

And then—A blast of wind caught her midair and threw her like a broken comet across the arena. She smashed into the upper balcony—right near her mother's viewing platform. The impact stole her breath.

Dazed, bruised, Serenya opened her eyes.

And she saw her mother watching.

And her eyes—

Her eyes were not surprised.

They knew this was how it was meant to be. Serenya losing.

Give up. Before it's too late.

Something inside Serenya cracked. Not in surrender—but in anger.

She could feel it—rising like a scream through her veins. Her fingers trembled, and lightning gathered there, hungrier than ever before. It raced up her arms, her spine, her chest.

The storm answered her.

Her blade glowed white-blue, searing, radiant.

And then—

She let go.

The heavens had never seen such light.

The bolt tore through the sky like a scream—pure, raw, blinding. It struck Kael mid-flight, cutting through his tornado and slamming him into the storm-wracked clouds above.

The crowd gasped. The wind now had stopped.

The rain halted mid-drop, suspended in eerie silence.

Serenya lowered her blade, her arms trembling, breath shallow in her throat. The glowing threads of lightning on her skin dimmed. Her heart raced—not from the duel, but from the silence that followed it.

The entire kingdom stared.

Some were stunned. Some scared. Some leaned into their seats.

They hadn't expected this. They had come to witness a symbolic match. A graceful display. A princess with power—but not too much. Not this much.

The air was thick with a single, unspoken question:

What was this?

And, from the royal balcony—no movement, no command.

Only silence.

Serenya touched the hilt of her sword with numb fingers.

"I didn't mean to—"

But her voice was lost beneath the thunder still echoing in her ears.

Then she looked up and the smoke parted slowly.

Kael lay on the ground, his body still.

And the storm inside her... stopped.