Inside the royal palace, hidden beneath layers of stone and magic, Azaelith found what she was looking for. She wasn't sure how she had gotten past the guards, but the shadows had led her here, to an old chamber filled with scrolls and books long forgotten.
There, in the center of the room, sat a woman—her face hidden by a veil of darkness, her eyes glowing with an otherworldly light.
"You've come," the woman said, her voice soft and distant, yet filled with power. "I have been waiting for you."
Azaelith's heart skipped a beat. "Who are you?"
"I am Arlene, the Seer," the woman replied, her eyes locking with Azaelith's. "And I know why you have returned."
"Then tell me," Azaelith demanded. "What happened to my family? Who killed us?"
Arlene smiled, but it was a sad, knowing smile. "Your family did not die by chance. They were caught in a web of power—a power far beyond the royal family. And you… you are the key to all of it."
Azaelith's heart thudded. "The key?"
"Yes," Arlene murmured. "You were not just resurrected for no reason. You have been chosen. There is a prophecy, one that has been spoken of for centuries. A harbinger will rise from the ashes, bringing both destruction and salvation."
Azaelith's breath caught in her throat. "I'm... part of a prophecy?"