Vaticinia Caelorum- The Prophecy That Destroyed The Heavens

"The Heavens have fallen. Aetheria has fallen. Your Queen has fallen. You are free now."

The voice rang across Aetheria like a divine whisper, low and serene, but its calmness only added to the horror. It wasn't booming or monstrous—it was composed. Reassuring. That made it worse. People felt it deep within them, as if the message wasn't being heard, but absorbed through their bones.

Serenya froze. Her heart stopped for a moment. The crowd outside the bar silenced mid-breath. Then came the chaos.

"I am Caelus," the voice continued, more intimate now, as though he was speaking to each person alone. "The leader of the Astral Concord. Formed ages ago—by your own Queen. She betrayed us. And you. Now, she is gone. Aetheria is free. You are free. Free to think, to question, to see. No more veils. No more Supreme Mother to blind you with glittering lies. Vaticinia Caelorum has begun. The prophecy lives. The age of truth dawns... thanks to your Infante."

The bar exploded into noise. People shouting. Crying. Pushing past one another.

"What does that mean?!" "Who is this Caelus?" "The Queen is dead?" "Is this some sort of war?" "What is Vaticinia Caelorum?!"

Children clung to their parents. Guards stood still as statues. Some ran. Others collapsed to their knees in prayer or terror.

Serenya could barely hear Riven over the growing noise. "Sere! We need to go. Now."

She nodded, dazed. "Yes. Yes, let's go."

They made their way through side alleys, dodging panicked civilians, finally reaching a small, slanted-roof inn tucked behind an abandoned flower market. A crooked sign above the door read The Windrest. Paint peeling. Chimney puffing.

Riven shoved the door open. "We need a room."

The innkeeper, a pale man with a mole above his eyebrow, looked them over. His eyes lingered too long on Serenya and Lyara. "Just one?"

"Yes," Serenya snapped. "Problem?"

"No, miss. No problem at all," he said quickly, eyes dropping.

The room was small. A crooked bed pushed against the wall. One wooden chair. A single fireplace humming quietly in the corner. The bedding was old but clean. Faded lavender and blue.

Lyara closed the door behind them and leaned against it. "Okay. What now?"

"I need time to recharge," Riven said, sinking cross-legged on the floor. "The jump to Virelya... I need to be at full strength. I can meditate through a few turns of the sky."

"How far is it?" Lyara asked.

"Two clouds," he said. "I've never gone that far with two passengers. But I think I can do it."

Serenya sat on the bed, arms folded around her knees. "Do you think this all... started because of me?"

Riven and Lyara exchanged a look.

"Don't," Lyara said softly. "Don't do that to yourself."

"You heard him," Serenya said. "He said thanks to your Infante. That means me."

"And maybe it would have happened anyway," Riven said. "You don't know. The prophecy exists for a reason."

Serenya sighed. Her throat felt like sand. Lyara stood.

"We need food. I'll get some. You two rest."

"I can come with—"

"No," Lyara interrupted gently. "Sere, sleep. You need it. You haven't stopped since the duel."

Serenya opened her mouth, but Riven added, "She's right. You passed out lightning that left Kael unconscious. You need to recover."

"Fine," Serenya muttered, lying back. "But don't take too long."

Lyara gave a two-fingered salute and slipped out.

The warmth of the fire made everything blur. Riven's voice faded into background murmurs as he meditated. Serenya's breath slowed. Then sleep took her like a wave.

She woke to the soft clatter of bowls.

"Sere," Lyara whispered. "Wake up. Eat something."

Riven was already chewing noisily. "You slept like a stone. That stew smells incredible."

Serenya rubbed her eyes. Lyara handed her a bowl filled with duskfruit and emberroot stew, steam curling like smoke spirits. Aetherian food was unlike anything else—flavor-rich, energizing, almost magical. Skyroot bread was toasted on the edges, served with whipped moonbutter, and a platter of crystallized cloudberries sparkled faintly in the firelight.

They ate slowly, letting the silence soothe them. The food in Aetheria was unlike anything in the Middle Earth. All of it was touched by magic. The grains and vegetables were grown by the Cultivators—those born with the gift to nourish and grow life from the clouds. With a flick of their palms and soft chants, they guided the fields in the Sky Valleys to yield harvests bursting with flavor and energy. The duskfruit absorbed light from the twin moons, giving it its silvery sweetness. Emberroots glowed faintly even after cooking, pulsing with warmth. The bread was kneaded with skyflour, made from grains swaying high above the cloudlines, only reachable by the most seasoned cultivators. It wasn't just food; it was life given form.

"So," Lyara said between mouthfuls, "after we get to Virelya, what then?"

"We find Master Aenor," Riven said. "If anyone knows how to untangle what's happening, it's him."

"He was a Royal Lorekeeper," Serenya added. "My mother mentioned him once, in passing. Said he knew too much."

"That sounds exactly like the kind of person we need," Lyara muttered.

Serenya was just about to agree when the window shook.

Thump.

They froze.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Riven rose. Lyara put her hand over her mouth. Serenya moved to the window.

"No," she breathed.

Outside, over the rooftops of CityStar, monsters of mist and storm slithered across the sky. Great horned shapes. Long wings of darkness, whispering through the clouds. Their forms were semi-solid—not entirely real, but real enough.

"Skybeasts," Riven whispered. "They were just legends."

"Not anymore," Serenya said. Her voice was hollow. "They're here. Because of Vaticinia Caelorum. Because the veil has dropped."

One of the beasts let out a shrieking cry, so sharp Serenya clutched her ears. Others joined it. A chorus of ancient rage.

Then, sudden silence.

The sky shimmered. And every torch in the inn flickered.

"We need to leave," Serenya said. "Now."

Riven nodded, his hands crackling with a glow. "I'm ready. Barely. But ready."

Lyara took Serenya's hand. Riven reached for them both.

As the window splintered behind them and a scream echoed in the streets, the trio vanished in a storm of light.