Vaticinia Caelorum- The Prophecy That Destroyed The Heavens

The apparition left them reeling. Serenya, Riven, and Lyara collapsed to their knees the moment their feet hit solid cloudstone. The air in Virelya was heavier—thin, cold, and filled with something indescribable. Magic, perhaps. Or memory.

Serenya winced, rubbing her temples as the throb in her head pulsed like lightning. Beside her, Riven leaned against the bark of a silverwood tree, eyes closed, breathing deeply to still the dizziness. Lyara had one hand pressed over her mouth, trying not to be sick.

"That... felt like being ripped through time," Riven muttered hoarsely.

"Well... we did cross two clouds," Lyara managed, brushing wind-blown hair from her face. "You did good, Riv. Really."

Riven gave a weak smile. "Remind me to never try that again without a full meal and a week of meditation."

They stood together in a quiet garden, tucked along the banks of a still, dark lake. The trees around them bore pale blue leaves that shimmered faintly, like they were made of mist. Overhead, the sky was a cloudy violet. Not quite morning. Not quite night. It was Virelya—caught in its own time.

Despite its stillness, there was tension in the air. Everyone here knew. Knew about the palace. About the Queen—Supreme Mother—vanishing. The blasts. The voice. And about Serenya.

They just didn't know she was standing here among them.

"This place..." Serenya whispered, her voice still raw. "It feels older than anything I've ever known."

"Because it is," Riven said, quieter than usual. "My father once told me Virelya was carved into the clouds before Aetheria's thrones were built. The Keepers of Knowledge don't serve kings or queens. They serve time."

Lyara shivered. "Do you think the creatures… from last night… could find us here?"

The question was heavy.

Serenya hesitated. "I don't know. But I don't think they're after Virelya. Yet."

Still, they all exchanged looks of worry. The creatures of old mythos—the ones they had seen outside the inn—were supposed to be long gone. Legends told to children. But last night, they had watched one walk past their window.

"They looked like nightmares given form," Lyara said, her voice nearly a whisper. "If they can reach Virelya…"

"They won't," Serenya said, more firmly than she felt. "Not before we get answers."

The path led them toward a towering structure that seemed to materialize out of the mist. The Library of Echoes.

Serenya had only heard about it in stories—an endless dome of floating arches, shelves that reached beyond the clouds, scrolls that whispered and books that chose their readers. Some said the library was alive.

The sight stole her breath. The building had no walls—just veils of energy and glowing script swirling upward from the earth. Its dome hovered weightlessly, its supports made from golden beams and shimmering crystal. From where they stood, they couldn't see its end—only that it curved on and on into the mists.

They stood frozen, gazing upward like pilgrims before a god.

"This is where he'd be," Serenya said, her voice reverent. "He told me once—if he could live out his days anywhere, it would be here. In the company of knowledge."

And then—

"It took long enough, Serenya."

The voice came from behind them. Soft. Wise. And somehow familiar.

They turned.

An elderly woman, taller than even Riven, half-hidden by ivy. Her long robes were flowing with soft shades of aqua and pearl. Her silver hair was pulled back, revealing a face both serene and powerful—wrinkled with age, but filled with the ageless calm of deep water.

Her eyes met Serenya's. "He's been expecting you."

Serenya frowned. "You... know me?"

The woman chuckled. "Everyone knows you. Come, child. There's no need to fear me."

Lyara's breath caught. "You're... you're Vaelina. The Vaelina?"

The woman turned to her and smiled gently. "That's what they used to call me."

Lyara stepped forward, almost trembling. "My father spoke of you. You trained him. You—you're the one who made the water sing."

"Ah," Vaelina said, eyes twinkling. "Tahlor. Kind man. Had trouble focusing, but gifted. And this must be his daughter, then."

Lyara nodded, overcome.

Even Riven, normally composed, looked stunned.

Vaelina gestured to the library. "Aeron left instructions. When she came, bring her straight to him."

Serenya blinked. "You call him by his name?"

"I call him what I've always called him. He's my husband. And I am not bound by titles."

Serenya was pleasantly surprised after hearing this. She never thought of Master Aeron as someone who would be lifelong bonded to someone. Serenya rarely thought about love herself.

The moment they entered the Library, the world shifted.

It was like stepping into another dimension. Sound changed. Light thickened. The air hummed.

Books floated. Some shimmered. Some whispered. Scrolls moved as if rustled by invisible hands. Lanterns lit themselves when they walked past. Staircases shifted mid-step.

And it was endless.

"This place…" Lyara whispered.

"Has its own soul," Vaelina said. "Books come here when they've been forgotten. When their authors die. When someone dreams of a story they never write."

A small scroll unrolled itself before Riven, who caught it mid-air.

"Apparition refinement?" he murmured. "I've never seen this text…"

"Because it finds you," Vaelina said with a knowing smile. "Here, the right book finds the right hands. And only those it deems worthy can open its pages."

Lyara's hand brushed a blue tome glowing with symbols of the sea.

"It's singing," she whispered.

"Let it," Vaelina replied. "You're part of its story now."

But Serenya—she was drawn to none. The books didn't move for her. They watched her. Serenya felt disappointed. Why not me too?

"You're different," Vaelina said softly. "The Library knows. Come, child. He waits."

They followed her into a separate wing—darker, quieter. It felt heavier here. History walked in silence.

Finally, Vaelina stopped before a carved obsidian door marked with ancient Aetherian script.

"He's inside. All of you are welcome."

The door opened with a low groan.

Inside was a circular chamber glowing with amber light and enchanted ink. At the center was a low platform surrounded by water. And on it, in simple robes, was a man with short silver hair, spectacles, and the most welcoming face Serenya had seen in days.

"Serenya," Master Aenor said, rising with a warm smile. "You've grown."

She ran to him without thinking, wrapping him in a hug.

"You knew," she said.

He pulled back, hands on her shoulders. "Not all. But enough."

"You knew about my mother. About what would happen?"

He looked weary. "Pieces. It is not a puzzle easily solved. It's a prophecy wrapped in riddles—hiding its truth until it's too late."

He turned to Riven and Lyara. "Thank you for being so loyal to her. You both are stronger than you know."

They nodded, still overwhelmed.

Then Serenya asked the question that had burned in her mind since the blast: "So, what is Aetheria Caelorum. And is Aetheria going to be safe?"

Aenor paused.

"No," he said gently. "But it can be. Because of you"