Vaticinia Caelorum- The Prophecy That Destroyed The Heavens

Serenya slept.

And for the first time in what felt like years, it was a deep, undisturbed sleep—no dreams, no jolts awake, no cold sweats. Just darkness. Weightless. Quiet. When she opened her eyes again, it felt like a different world.

Riven stood by her bedside, his voice soft.

"Sere, let's go. Kael is awake."

The words reached her slowly, like sunlight warming her face. She blinked up at him, still heavy-limbed, and sat up.

Lyara was there too, her face bright with relief, though her eyes still held traces of worry.

"Maybe go splash some water on your face first," Lyara suggested gently, standing beside Riven. "You'll feel better."

"Yes....I should." Serenya stretched slowly, her joints sore from the duel. "How is Brother, though, Riv? Is he ....okay?"

"He's doing great, Sere. You need not worry." Riven said, surprisingly casual. "The lightning passed through him, the healers said. Barely did damage."

That surprised her—but it also brought a strange comfort. Things, for now, felt stable....for a while at least. The storm had passed. And for a moment, even the air in Aetheria smelled lighter.

The sun had risen, casting golden light through the white-satin curtains of the Celestine Chambers. She stepped into the Skywash Alcove, a private bathing and washroom carved into the wall of clouds, its basin fed by a stream that shimmered with skywater. The floor beneath her feet was chilled stone, soft with woven cloud rugs.

As she washed her face, the cold water bit gently at her skin. She looked up into the tall, silvered mirror. Her reflection stared back—pale, bruised, and wide-eyed. Her hair clung to her neck in messy waves. Her hazel eyes—sharp and storm-colored like her mother's—were still shadowed with exhaustion.

But she was awake. Alive. Herself.

Still, the thoughts returned.

The crowd—how they'd looked at her. Shocked. Awed. Afraid.

"What are they thinking of me? What will I be now?"

She shut her eyes tight, pressing her palms to the basin.

No. She knew better than to indulge those thoughts. She had learned to silence them, just as she had silenced every voice that tried to define her.

Since she was a child, they had looked at her differently. She never followed the quiet rules of what an Infante was supposed to be—she wore her training scars with pride, spoke when others whispered, questioned when others bowed. And in that rebellion, she had found strength. Even if it meant being set apart.

Even from her own blood.

She emerged from the Skywash Alcove, tightening the sash of her robe.

"Feeling better now?" Lyara asked.

"I'm feeling bett—"

BOOM.

A blast echoed through the palace.

The ground trembled beneath their feet. The floor rippled like water.

Then—BOOM again. Louder. Closer.

Cracks spidered across the walls. The air shifted violently. Glass rained from the dome above them.

"DOWN!" Riven shouted.

Serenya moved without thinking. Her palms surged with power—air rushed outward in a spiral, forming a tight, shielding sphere around the three of them. Lyara's eyes flashed, and water from the deep river below spiraled upward, sealing over the air like a second skin. They crouched, shielded.

They stayed together

"Hold on to me." Riven said, gripping their wrists.

In a heartbeat, they were gone—ripped from the chaos.

They landed hard outside, near the Silver Swaying Trees, the sacred edge of the Cloudgrounds. Smoke spiraled above the palace. The main wing—once flawless and towering—was torn open like parchment.

Cracked walls. Black scorch marks. Shattered marble.

And worse—no soldiers. No guards. No familiar voices.

"What just happened?" Lyara gasped, staggering slightly.

"No idea, Ly," Serenya said, catching her arm. "But this… this wasn't an accident."

"You both stay here," Riven said, already forming sigils with his hands. "I'll teleport to the main wing. Find the Supreme Mother… Kael... anyone."

"We'll sweep the outer halls," Serenya told him. "Meet us at the Swanlake side."

He nodded, then disappeared with a gust of wind.

Serenya looked to Lyara. They both were prepared.

"Hold on," she said. "I'm taking us upwards."

Air surged beneath them, swirling. In seconds, they rose into the sky, high enough to overlook the damaged palace.

What they saw from above made Serenya's heart drop.

The Main Spire was torn through the middle. One side of the palace wall had caved in. Pillars cracked. Domes shattered. The fountain plaza below was in ruin. And worse—there were no defenders. No soldiers. No servants. No one.

Not even Kael.

"Who did this?" Lyara whispered. "What do you think happened?"

Serenya didn't respond at first.

"Nothing like this has happened to the palace since... the last revolution. Ten thousand years ago."

A chill passed through her bones. She didn't know why—but somehow, deep down, it felt like her fault.

"Where is everyone?"

They landed softly among the rubble. Serenya stepped forward into the Main Wing, carefully moving through broken crystal and scorched tapestries.

"Mother?" she called.

Silence answered.

"We should go back," Lyara said gently. "You're still not fully recovered."

But Serenya's mind was somewhere else. A memory unspooling.

"Serenya, if something ever happens... if you feel unsafe, and I am not here... go to my chambers. Behind the closet, there's a doorway. It will only open when you remember me. You'll find me there. But you must never share it. Not with anyone. Do you understand?"

"Yesh, mo…the…err," little Serenya had replied, too young to pronounce but old enough to remember.

She turned to Lyara.

"Go to the Court Hall. See if anyone's there. I'll check Mother's chambers."

Lyara nodded, hesitated a moment, then ran off through the eastern corridor.

Serenya pressed forward alone. The mark on her collarbone tingled—faint, but present.

She passed broken statues and overturned lanterns. A sense of dread hung in the air like thunderclouds waiting to burst.

Her mother's chambers were ahead.

The door was ajar.

And something inside was calling to her