CHAPTER 7: The Woman Who Knew Too Much (And Said Too Little)
Aria's ears were still ringing with the final tick when she realized the woman hadn't blinked. Not once. She just stood there in the middle of that crooked shack, eyes made of light, speaking in riddles like she was auditioning to be someone's weird prophecy grandmother.
Caius stayed close. Too close, maybe. His hand brushed Aria's again, a silent question. She didn't answer, not with words anyway. Her jaw tightened. She was done with running and riddles.
"Who are you?" Aria asked, stepping forward. "And what does the prophecy even say?"
The woman tilted her head slowly, like someone considering a chess move five steps in advance.
"Names lose their power when spoken too often," she said. "But you may call me Sahlra."
Aria frowned. "That's not even a real name."
Sahlra actually smiled at that. Or at least, her mouth curved. "Not in your world. But in this one, names are bones. And yours is already rattling."
Okay. Creepy metaphor count: 237.
Aria folded her arms. "You said I have seven days. Seven days until what?"
Sahlra drifted across the room like she wasn't walking but remembering how to. She passed her hand over the liquid fire, and images flickered in its glow: a city in ruin, a winged shadow above a storm, and something that looked suspiciously like Aria's face cracking like glass.
"The prophecy speaks of a heart split in two. A choice between two deaths. One that ends you. One that remakes you."
"Could you maybe stop being a walking Tumblr quote and just say it plainly?" Aria snapped. Her patience had officially packed its bags.
Caius glanced between them. "Aria, maybe you should—"
"No, Caius. Not this time. No more cryptic adults whispering fate into my ears like I'm some enchanted diary."
She turned back to Sahlra. "Tell me everything. From the top. What am I? What's the necklace? And why me?"
Sahlra nodded solemnly, as if Aria had finally earned the right to truth.
"Your bloodline isn't mortal, not entirely. Your mother bound the truth to your dreams, hoping they would stay forgotten. But the forest has awakened. And with it, so has your role."
Aria blinked. "My mother?"
"She was one of the last Doorweavers. Able to move between worlds. But she defied the prophecy. She chose love over duty."
Caius murmured, "That's why they hunted her."
"Who hunted her?"
Sahlra's hand paused over the flame. Her expression dimmed. "The Hollow Court. Shadows with memory. They fear what you could become."
Aria's throat felt dry. The necklace was pulsing again—faint now, but steady. Tick. Tick. Like a countdown.
"So I'm supposed to stop them?"
"Not stop. Choose. There are doors ahead of you, Aria. Each one opens into a different fate. One of them ends the Hollow Court. One of them replaces it."
Caius looked at Aria, eyes narrowed. "Wait. You said she replaces it?"
Sahlra didn't answer. She just walked to the far wall and touched the rotting wood. It dissolved like paper, revealing a staircase descending into black.
"The path begins below. But be warned—truth has claws. And not all wounds want to heal."
Aria gave a sharp laugh. "Right. Of course. Staircase into darkness. Because this couldn't just be a library or something."
She moved forward, hesitating only once. Caius fell in beside her.
"Are we seriously going down there?"
"Yeah. Apparently I'm a walking prophecy and my mom had a secret past. What's a little haunted basement to top it off?"
The stairs creaked under their weight. The light from Aria's necklace was the only thing guiding them now, casting strange shadows along the walls. Symbols flickered—carved into the stone, half-glowing, half-burned. Some looked like eyes. Others looked like warnings.
"What even is this place?" Aria whispered.
"A memory," Sahlra's voice echoed from above. "Not mine. Yours."
They reached the bottom, and the room opened like a lung. Massive. Vaulted. Empty.
Until it wasn't.
A pool of light pulsed in the center of the floor. Floating above it—a book. No strings. No pedestal. Just hovering. Waiting.
Caius stepped closer. "That's not normal."
"Nothing about this is normal," Aria muttered.
The book was bound in metal and what looked like old bark. When Aria reached for it, the necklace around her neck flared—and the book responded, flipping itself open with a gust of wind that didn't exist.
Pages turned themselves. Words inked themselves in real time.
"It's... writing my story," she whispered. "Right now."
Caius leaned over. "Then we'd better read fast before it writes 'The End.'"
Sahlra's voice drifted down again, fainter this time:
"Seven days. Seven trials. One heart. Choose wisely, Aria. Or the heartbeat becomes a hollow."
And then the book did something terrifying.
It wrote:
"Trial One Begins:
The House That Hears."
Aria's pulse matched the necklace.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
END OF CHAPTER 7