The Prophecy of the Seven

Chapter 4: The Awakening of Darkness

Noticing Lyra's unusual silence, Edrin sensed something was wrong. A strange tension hung in the air, heavy and unsettling, as if she alone could perceive her friend's mental absence. Striving to remain polite despite her growing worry, Edrin spoke up, and with a forced smile, requested permission to leave. Lyra seemed exhausted, almost absent, and it was clear that the meeting was coming to an end. The Council members nodded in agreement, releasing them.

The three teens bowed respectfully and moved toward the door. No sooner had they crossed the threshold than Lyra collapsed heavily to the floor, like a puppet with its strings cut. Panicking, Edrin rushed to her side, her voice trembling as she tried in vain to bring her back to consciousness. Kaelen, meanwhile, maintained an almost unnerving calm. He stepped forward, lifting Lyra in his arms with an unexpected gentleness and, without a word, carried her to their room, his impassive face hiding his thoughts.

As Lyra slowly opened her eyes, a dull ache throbbed in her temples, and her vision was blurred, as if she were looking through thick fog. Gradually, her surroundings became clearer. But the place she found herself in looked nothing like the Academy or anywhere she recognized. Instead, a nightmarish scene unfolded before her.

Giant flames consumed everything in their path, licking the walls and climbing rooftops in a furious, uncontrollable dance. The fire spread from house to house, each reduced to a blackened skeleton in a blinding eruption of heat and light. Lyra tried to look away, but the scene held her captive, her body seemingly frozen, pinned in place. The horrifying details paraded before her eyes, indelible.

She could hear the sharp, desperate cries of villagers running in every direction, their faces marked by panic and pain. Women screamed in tears, calling for children lost in the chaos, while men attempted to lift debris to free the wounded. Their agonized voices formed a choir of despair, piercing through the thick black smoke and filling the air with grief. Lyra saw a woman clutching a child, his face smeared with soot, trying to flee the flames; her steps were slow, as if burdened by the weight of the world.

Lyra could feel the suffocating heat of the flames. Smoke filled her lungs, burning her throat. She raised a trembling hand to her mouth, trying to catch her breath. But as her vision began to blur, a new presence made itself known—a cold, terrifying presence that starkly contrasted with the fiery hell around her.

A laugh echoed in the air, cutting through the screams like a cold blade. It was deep, filled with sinister, inhuman joy, reveling in the spectacle of misery and destruction unfolding around them. The sound chilled her to the bone, forcing her to look up to find its source.

There, at the heart of the apocalyptic scene, stood a dark figure, cloaked in thick shadows. This being exuded an aura so menacing it seemed to command the flames, the orchestrator of all this devastation. The silhouette was immense, towering, and though its face was blurred, almost indistinct, Lyra felt a strange familiarity. She couldn't say how she knew this figure, but an ancient terror seemed to bind her to it.

The shadow moved slowly, advancing toward a family huddled a few meters from Lyra: a man, a woman, and two children. All four clung to each other, trembling, their faces pleading for mercy. The shadow's eyes shone with a cruel gleam, as if it fed on the despair saturating the air around them. Lyra wanted to scream, to tell them to run, but no sound escaped her burning throat.

The shadow raised a hand, massive and clawed, seemingly made of smoke and darkness. In a brutal motion, it brought its hand down on the family, shattering their last hope. The sadistic laughter echoed again, filling the air with morbid glee as the bodies fell to the ground, faces frozen in expressions of pure terror.

The scene blurred, but Lyra continued to see the pleading faces of the family, the children's eyes filled with fear and confusion, wondering why no one was coming to save them. These images intertwined with her own helplessness, like a wound burning deep within her soul. She felt her own body giving way under the weight of the pain as the world tilted around her.

As her vision faded, she saw the shadow turn toward her, its red eyes boring into her mind as if it sought to etch itself there forever. Before slipping back into darkness, she had the fleeting impression that this shadow knew her, that it had been hunting her far longer than she could imagine. Then everything disappeared—the air, the fire, the screams—leaving only a terrifying silence.

Lyra awoke screaming, tears streaming down her face, her hands gripping the sheets around her. Her cries pierced the silence of the room, and she sensed two pairs of eyes fixed on her, attentive and concerned. As she slowly regained her senses, she realized she was lying in a large, comfortable bed. Around her, the room was warm and familiar. She recognized the walls and furniture that surrounded her: she was in the dormitory at the Academy.

Scanning the room, she saw two other beds: one in a corner adorned with vibrant colors, which she guessed was Edrin's, and the other with a more subdued style, belonging to Kaelen. Reassured by the presence of her friends, Lyra wiped away her tears, though she couldn't conceal the confusion and lingering terror in her gaze. Edrin, seated at the edge of her bed, was examining her face with concern, showering her with questions to ensure she was alright.

Still shaken and her head throbbing, Lyra tried to reassure them. "I... I'm fine, it's... probably just everything we've been through," she said weakly, hoping to convince both her friends and herself.

Kaelen, who had remained silent until now, observed Lyra with a calm, impassive gaze. After a moment, he spoke, his measured voice breaking the heavy silence of the room.

"So, our dear friend here has been chosen to study at the Academy and... save the world," he said in a neutral tone, as if it were nothing more than a curious fact. "Interesting."

Lyra was stunned, the Council's words still echoing in her mind. She had indeed been chosen. This was no mere coincidence. But why her? A silent question lingered in her mind as she massaged her temples, hoping to ease her persistent headache, without success.

"If... if I have no trace of anything supernatural in me, how could I defeat... Zephyr? That's his name, isn't it?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Edrin, still attentive, handed her a glass of water, gently squeezing her hand in comfort. "Lyra, if you're here with us, it's because you're special. Maybe we don't know why yet, but... I'm sure you'll find out."

She shot Kaelen a dark look, silently urging him to be more supportive and considerate toward their friend. But Kaelen remained impassive, seemingly lost in thought. Irritated, Edrin nudged him gently, prompting him to show some care for Lyra. Yet Kaelen didn't move, his gaze still fixed on Lyra, an intense gleam in his eyes.

After a moment, he broke the silence, pointedly ignoring Edrin, much to her silent fury. "Lyra," he began calmly, "what happened when you were unconscious? Did you... see something?"

Lyra stared at him, surprised. How could he know? Then she remembered that when she regained consciousness, she had been crying and screaming. Perhaps he had guessed something. She nodded, hesitant.

"Yes," she replied simply, her eyes fixed on the floor. She hesitated to say more, but the expectant looks from Kaelen and Edrin encouraged her to open up. Taking a deep breath, she recounted her vision with vivid details, leaving nothing out.

When her story ended, a heavy silence fell over the room. None of them dared speak, as if each of Lyra's words had etched themselves into their minds. The shock, horror, and mystery of the vision weighed on their hearts.