Vaticinia Caelorum- The Prophecy That Destroyed The Heavens

Vaelina had made breakfast that morning, the kind that warms not only the stomach but also the spirit.

The dining room, tucked into one of the upper alcoves of the Library of Echoes, was quietly lit with morning glow. Through the glass arches above them, the early light spilled in—soft and golden—and bathed the three of them in a temporary peace.

For the first time in days, maybe weeks, they were just three people sharing breakfast. Changed clothes. No destinies. No falling kingdoms. Just food, steam rising off the bowls, and the silence between old friends that no longer needed to be filled.

It never occurred to Serenya that this Library had been not just a place of knowledge but the actual home of Master Aeron and Vaelina. Somehow, it all made sense now—where else would a man like Aeron live, if not in the heart of all ancient magic?

The food, too, was like the library—unassuming on the surface, layered with the kind of richness that left you changed.

Warm golden root broth thickened with cloudgrains, fermented petalbread filled with star-fruit preserve, and small, glowing blue vials of morning-syrup—a staple in Virelya. The ingredients, of course, were grown by cultivators. These were no ordinary farmers—they were wielders in their own right, blessed with the rare ability to manipulate soil and sunlight, summon rain with song, and whisper to seeds until they bloomed into sustenance. In Aetheria, food was not harvested—it was coaxed into existence with gentleness, intention, and magic.

They ate in silence, all three of them aware that this might be their last meal in Aetheria for a very long time.

No one knew what Middle Earth would offer—if they'd have food, shelter, or even safety. Riven seemed pensive as he chewed, his eyes lost in the swirling glow of the syrup vial, while Lyara kept looking at Serenya, like she was memorizing her face. Serenya didn't know what to say, but she knew this silence meant more than words ever could.

Once the bowls were cleared and the tea cups emptied, Vaelina appeared again, her hands folded in front of her, eyes glinting with pride and caution. "Aeron is meditating," she said gently. "In the Dark Room beneath the Library. That is where you will begin. Be ready, children."

Her voice had that kind of energy that made you want to straighten your back. Not out of fear—but respect. They followed her as she led them down through the winding spine of the Library, through corridors filled with floating scrolls and sealed chambers, past a hallway that sang with wind when you stepped too close.

Eventually, they reached a staircase. No doors. No barriers. Just an open stone arch leading downward—and an air so thick with silence it was almost physical. As they descended, the steps themselves began to glow, not from candles or lanterns but from the very breath of the place. The light lived in the air, pulsed with each step, humming low like an old song only the stones remembered.

Serenya didn't know what she expected, but it certainly wasn't this: a room with no walls. No roof. Just a dome of clouds suspended mid-air, held together by sheer intent, threads of light winding through the air like vines. At the center of it, sitting cross-legged and as still as the moon, was Master Aeron.

He opened his eyes as they entered. "Good morning, children," he said, voice warm and bright as ever. "I know what you're all thinking. This place—this very room—is the center of Aetheria. Magic is older here than anywhere else in the Heavens. Even older than our written memory. This is why I chose this place. You will leave from here."

There was something reverent in his tone. Almost holy.

The three of them stood before him, their hearts thudding in synchrony. Serenya stepped slightly ahead, the pendant around her neck cool against her skin. "But how will we know when to come back?" she asked, the question rising from somewhere deep and scared inside her. "And how will we come back?"

Aeron smiled, eyes twinkling like he held more than just knowledge—like he held secrets. "You will come back when you are ready. And when you are ready, you will know how to return. That is the truth. And the curse."

It felt like a riddle. But also—like the most straightforward answer she'd ever been given.

He looked at each of them, one by one. "You don't feel prepared. That's alright. You are not meant to. You are going there to prepare. To become. Destiny is not a fixed thread, Serenya—it is a rope, twisted from every moment of decision. And you are already shaping yours."

Lyara and Riven said nothing, but Serenya knew they felt the same storm she did. She could feel the way Lyara's hands had begun to tremble slightly, how Riven kept glancing at the library steps, maybe wondering if they had forgotten anything behind. But they didn't say a word. They were here. With her.

Master Aeron gestured behind him. Vaelina stepped forward and handed Riven a satchel—elegantly embroidered with glowing Aetherian symbols that flickered as if alive. "This will serve you well," she said. "It holds what you will need: your books, your pendants, your maps, and a few... peculiarities you'll understand in time."

Then Aeron turned to Serenya, placing something in her hand. It was a pendant—small, sapphire-blue, cool to the touch. Almost... humming. "Keep this close," he said. "It has been passed through many wielders before you. It will protect you. And it will awaken when you need it."

There was no drama, no theatrics. Just a quiet gravity that weighed on them like mist.

"Now," Aeron said, stepping back. "Form a circle. Your strength lies in each other. And from now on, everything you do, you do as one."

They reached for each other's hands, fingers cold and sweaty and terrified. Serenya took Lyara's on her left, and Riven's on her right. And as their palms met, the dome around them began to swirl. Light spun like a storm. Clouds hissed and split into spirals. Wind howled like it was grieving. The floor vanished.

And then they were falling.

The library disappeared above them like a candle snuffed out. The air grew colder, sharper, denser. The stars changed shape. For a second, it felt like their bodies were burning—but it was not pain, not really. It was transformation. Like every cell was being rewritten to belong somewhere new.

And then—

Silence.

Clouds parted.

And the earth was beneath their feet.

They were standing in a field of green and gold, grass fluttering like ribbons in the wind, a forest in the distance, and mountains rising like ancient guards. The sky was vast—not clouds but sky—and the sun was warmer than anything they had ever felt in Aetheria.

They had made it.

They were on the Middle Earth.