✿✿✿
The air no longer felt like the same air.
It carried weight now, pressing against skin as though invisible hands brushed past everyone who dared step outside. People didn't say it aloud, but their bodies knew. The ground beneath them was unsteady even when it did not tremble.
In the small town where Sera lived, mornings were usually stitched together by familiar noises—temple bells echoing faintly, the chatter of schoolchildren rushing with bags that bounced against their sides, bicycle wheels squeaking on narrow roads. But now there was hesitation in every sound. Bells rang softer. The children laughed less. The bicycles squeaked, but the silence swallowed the echoes faster than it used to.
It was as if the world itself had learned the art of holding its breath.
Sera noticed it first in the wind.
She had always liked sitting by her window, chin balanced against her palm, watching the clothesline flutter. The wind was her companion, playful and steady, but these days it no longer played. It circled her house in restless bursts—sometimes too cold for the season, sometimes carrying a faint, smoky heat, as though it had been touched by fire somewhere far away.
The townsfolk muttered explanations. Climate change, one man said at the marketplace. Strange gases in the air, a woman countered. Others simply shook their heads and spoke of omens.
For Sera, explanations meant little. Her body reacted before her mind could. At night, her pulse raced when the wind pressed against her windows. She woke sweating, though her room was cold. And each morning, when she looked in the mirror, the faint snowflake mark on her wrist seemed brighter than the day before.
❃❃❃
The world outside Sera's town was whispering the same secrets, though none could understand them fully. In coastal cities, the tides receded and surged without warning, leaving boats stranded on sand or swept far from their moorings. The fishermen muttered about the "angry sea," but even their seasoned eyes could not read the patterns. In the northern mountains, snow fell in lazy spirals during what should have been warm days, melting and freezing in ways that confounded farmers and travelers alike. Birds altered their migrations, confused, flying north when they should fly south.
Even the skies were restless. Clouds hung low, thick and bruised, drifting against the wind's direction. Lightning cracked silently, illuminating the clouds from within in golden flashes, so quick that only the most attentive eyes could notice.
Occasionally, in the dead of night, there would be a distant rumble, not from thunder, not from any quake, but from something deep beneath the world. People claimed it was the earth groaning in old pain, but Sera felt it differently. It spoke to her in a language she couldn't name—a vibration that tugged at the snowflake mark on her wrist, making it tingle as if acknowledging something that slept far away.
Inside her home, Sera kept a journal, something she had started on quiet nights long before she understood why she felt connected to the unusual events. Pages were filled with sketches: swirling winds, fiery trails in the sky, icy blue cracks across the mountains. Often, she included fragments of dreams that had grown sharper over the past months...visions of a city that glimmered like gold under a sun that was not the sun she knew, towers of crystal rising above rivers that shimmered with colors she had no names for. In her dreams, figures moved with an authority that made the air itself bend; one figure, always surrounded by flickering orange light, would turn, and though she never saw his face clearly, she felt him—like the pull of gravity, like the warmth of fire close enough to burn.
This morning, as she walked through the marketplace, the murmurs of the townsfolk were louder than usual. Children paused mid-play, staring at the sky.
Farmers set down their baskets, eyes narrowing as the wind shifted direction suddenly, carrying scents that had no origin in their fields. Something was coming, Sera knew it in her bones. She could not name it, could not describe it, but her pulse raced as if the world itself had begun to count down, preparing for something immense.
At the university in the city, professors of meteorology and astronomy argued in heated tones. One insisted that the readings were impossible....temperatures fluctuating across hemispheres within hours, auroras that spread far below the magnetic poles, gravitational anomalies measured across oceans. Others claimed there was nothing supernatural at all, that these were merely natural disasters coinciding, amplified by human observation. But in quiet offices, when screens went dark and data failed to reconcile, even the most skeptical paused, feeling an intangible shiver creep along their spines.
Sera's life, meanwhile, was caught between mundane routines and extraordinary signs. The café she frequented smelled faintly of smoke one morning, though the ovens were off, the chairs and tables untouched. At the market, she swore the bread in her basket grew warm in her hands, though the sun had not yet risen. Even her cat, normally lazy and indifferent, circled her feet with a kind of unease she had never seen before. She did not speak of these things; who would believe her? And yet, every tingle on her wrist, every whispered vibration in the air, felt like a thread pulling her toward something she was born to meet but had yet to understand.
By mid-afternoon, the skies above the town darkened as if night had fallen early. Clouds shimmered with gold and red, streaks that resembled fire caught in silk, folding over each other in impossible shapes. A hush fell over the streets; people stopped mid-step, mouths opening to call to one another, then shutting as the wind whispered through alleyways and across rooftops. The sound was not quite a sound, a frequency that brushed against ears and hearts alike, leaving a residue of anticipation, of fear, of awe. Sera lifted her gaze and for the first time noticed the horizon splitting, a narrow column of light that seemed to descend from the heavens but did not touch the ground. Within the column, shapes shifted, massive and radiant.
She stepped closer, drawn instinctively. Her heart pounded as the air thickened around her, vibrating against her skin. She could hear the faintest hum....low, constant, ancient....and then the world shifted. Birds screamed and flew away in chaotic patterns. Dogs barked in strange unison. The wind roared, carrying the scent of smoke and ozone, of flowers she had never smelled, of ice and molten rock blended in ways impossible yet real.
Sera clutched her wrist. The snowflake mark glowed faintly, brightening with the pulse of the column. Something called to her, though she could not speak, though no words passed her lips. And in that moment, as the column's light spread across the town like a wave caught between sea and sky, she felt the presence of him.....the figure from her dreams. Not fully revealed, not yet tangible, but real.
Time seemed to shiver, stretching and compressing. The wind stopped for a heartbeat, then surged again, carrying voices faint and far-off, impossible to hear but unmistakably human, and yet… something else. Something older. Something alive. Sera felt her knees weaken. A warmth coursed through her chest, a fire that did not burn but seared with recognition.
For a few moments, the world outside her home vanished. The sounds of life—the vendors, the children, the cats, the birds....were all replaced by the hum, the column of light, and the call that pulsed through her very blood.
And then the first rumble came. Not thunder. Not quake. It was the growl of something immense, echoing from deep within the earth, resonating in the bones of every person, every animal, every stone. The town trembled, not violently, but as if acknowledging that the world had changed irrevocably. Windows rattled. Paper flew from stalls. The smell of earth and fire mingled.
Sera stumbled backward, clutching the windowsill. She whispered a name she had never spoken aloud, a name that had haunted her dreams since childhood: Solarius.
And as the last light of the column spread across the horizon, touching mountains and rivers beyond sight, she felt it.....something coming, something vast, something that would change everything.
She did not know how, or why, or what role she was to play. She only knew that the world she had known, the quiet life she had lived, had ended.
❉❉❉
Across the continents, people began to notice anomalies that could not be ignored. In desert cities, the sands shifted in patterns that resembled glyphs, spirals curling in impossibly precise arcs. Travelers reported faint glimmers of color that did not belong to any prism or sunray. In northern forests, animals congregated near rivers, staring upward, ears perked as though hearing a language beyond human comprehension. Even the stars above seemed wrong....clusters that should have taken centuries to align now appeared overnight, shifting slowly, glowing brighter, hinting at something awakening.
At the universities, scholars scrambled. Telescopes that had recorded the same constellations for decades now showed stars moving in impossible arcs. Satellites detected energy spikes from regions that should have been dormant, readings that baffled scientists who had once believed they understood the universe. News networks broadcast stories of strange weather, unexplainable floods, heatwaves in frozen zones. Governments issued statements to calm the populace, but Sera knew the truth: the world was whispering, signaling a presence that could no longer be hidden.
Inside her room, Sera's journal overflowed with sketches and symbols. The snowflake on her wrist had begun to pulse, almost like a heartbeat she could feel.
The dreams grew more vivid, no longer fleeting visions. She walked through Veyrion as if the world had been painted around her while she slept: golden towers that glimmered in sunlight she could not see, rivers reflecting colors that did not exist in the waking world, and figures moving with power so immense that even her heart raced in fear and awe.
One dream, vivid beyond all others, left her gasping awake. A column of fire stretched to the heavens, casting shadows across mountains she had never seen, yet recognized. A figure moved within the light, his presence undeniable. Warmth radiated from him, not just the touch of heat, but a sensation that penetrated her bones, whispered promises, and stirred long-forgotten threads in her mind. She did not know who he was, yet she knew....she had been waiting.
Days passed in a blur. The veil's influence seeped into the world subtly but persistently. Electronics flickered, compasses spun aimlessly, and even the oceans seemed restless. Boats stranded overnight in shallow water, only to be found miles away the next morning. Rivers reversed their courses briefly, leaving fish stranded on banks. Entire forests seemed to lean, as if bowing to some invisible force.
Sera noticed it all. She walked the streets, observing, recording, sensing the pulse of the world. Others whispered of omens, signs, perhaps a catastrophe. But Sera felt something else. She felt purpose, connection, destiny brushing against her existence. And always, always, the snowflake on her wrist glowed faintly, as if acknowledging the approach of the one she had seen in her dreams.
One evening, as twilight bled into night, Sera stood at the edge of a cliff overlooking the sea. The wind whipped around her, carrying scents of smoke, salt, ice, and molten rock all at once. The world hummed beneath her feet. The horizon shimmered, not with the normal hues of sunset, but gold and crimson and violet, blending into a spectrum that made her eyes water. And then, in the distance, she saw it—a column of light, immense and powerful, descending slowly toward the Earth. It moved with authority, splitting the sky, commanding the world to pause.
Her heart raced. She reached for the snowflake on her wrist, pressing her palm against it. It burned gently, but not painfully, almost like it was guiding her, telling her to be ready. And then, the first faint sound reached her ears, soft and low, vibrating through the cliff, through the ocean, through her very bones.
A presence was arriving.
It was not a storm, not an earthquake, not fire, not wind. It was him....the figure she had seen in dreams. The world trembled in anticipation, and Sera realized, with a mix of fear and awe, that everything she had known, everything she had believed about reality, was about to change forever.
The final rumble came, low and rolling, echoing through the mountains and across the oceans. Trees bent under the invisible pressure, birds scattered, waves leaped higher than natural laws allowed. And in the midst of it all, the column of light grew brighter, a beacon in the darkening sky.
Sera whispered into the wind, almost involuntarily: "I… I am ready."
The cliffside wind wrapped around her like a cloak, tugging at her hair and clothes.
The column shimmered, and for a heartbeat, everything seemed suspended in time. And then, in that suspended moment, she felt it....not just power, but recognition. Something immense and alive acknowledged her presence.
Her breath caught. The snowflake mark glowed brighter than ever. A pulse ran through her veins, syncing with the hum of the world itself. And as she looked toward the horizon, she understood with perfect clarity: Solarius had returned.
The night fell into an eerie calm, as though the world itself was holding its breath, waiting for the next moment. And Sera, standing alone on the cliff, knew that nothing would ever be the same again.
✬✬✬
The horizon split open in light, a shaft of gold and crimson piercing the dusky clouds. It wasn't sunlight. It wasn't fire. It was something alive. Something aware. Sera's heart thudded in her chest, each beat echoing the pulse she felt from the snowflake on her wrist. She stumbled slightly, gripping the cliff's edge, trying to steady herself.
The world itself reacted. Mountains shivered as if flexing muscles; oceans roared, tides surging higher than ever before. Winds tore through valleys, carrying with them whispers of power that sounded almost like words. Birds circled above, screeching, but not in panic....more like awe. Every creature, every living thing seemed to recognize the moment.
Sera's breath came in short gasps. The column of light shimmered, twisting, bending as if it were a living thread weaving into the sky. Then, faintly at first, she heard it: a deep, resonant hum. Not a sound that traveled through the air—it vibrated through the ground, through her bones, through her very being.
And then, a shape began to emerge.
It was impossible to see clearly, and yet every instinct told her who it was.
Towering, majestic, and terrifying in its perfection. The figure moved with authority, each step toward the Earth sending ripples through the air. The fire mark along his chest glimmered even from this distance, veins of molten light tracing patterns across skin that seemed almost too alive. The wind shifted around him as if bowing.
Sera's pulse raced. She pressed her palm against her wrist, feeling the snowflake burn with warmth she had never known. The mark pulsed faster, syncing with the distant hum, guiding her attention. Her mind flashed with memories of dreams—dreams that had led her here, to this moment.
The column of light collapsed inward, spiraling faster, descending toward the land.
And then she saw him fully.
Solarius.
The fire god she had glimpsed in visions, whose name had whispered through her mind in fragments of dreams. The presence of him alone made the air thick, charged with power, weightless yet suffocating. The horizon around him warped with heat and light; the sky above shimmered in colors no human eye had names for.
Sera staggered backward, heart hammering. The snowflake mark glowed brighter, almost painfully now, casting delicate patterns of frost across her skin. She could feel the pull, the connection, as if some invisible thread had anchored them together across worlds.
"Who… who are you?" she whispered to the wind, knowing the question wasn't meant for her ears alone.
The figure stopped. For a moment, the world held its breath. Then, faintly, the hum shifted into a voice. Not words she could understand, but a resonance that spoke directly to her mind: warmth, warning, command, and… recognition. Her knees buckled, and she sat on the cliff's edge, stunned.
Around the globe, lights flickered, compasses spun wildly, and tides churned. Sera knew, in the deepest part of her being, that this was only the beginning. Solarius' return was not just a spectacle... it was a harbinger. The veil was opening.
Destinies were converging. And she… Sera… had been chosen to witness it.
The final tremor rattled the cliff beneath her. Dust and loose stone scattered in the wind. And for a fleeting heartbeat, she felt something unimaginable: the fire of Veyrion, the pulse of its rulers, and the unbroken chain of stories that had led her here. Her parents' words echoed in her mind: "Stories like to come true in quiet places, when no one's watching."
Sera clutched the edge of the cliff, eyes wide. The snowflake burned brighter. The column of light became a vortex, collapsing, narrowing, descending… until the world itself seemed to bend around it.
And then, just as suddenly as it began, the light paused. Suspended. Waiting. The winds stilled, the oceans calmed, the birds held their flight midair. And Sera knew, with certainty, that the moment the light touched the Earth, nothing would ever be the same again.
The world shivered. The veil quivered. And somewhere in the golden light, Solarius finally descended.
"Its you?The Chosen one of Glacielle..."