The air in the Archives hummed with an energy that Isabella could feel deep in her bones. Her eyes lingered on the glowing Tome of Origins as she stepped back, its final image burned into her mind—herself, holding the Heartstone, bathed in light. A Chosen.
Me, she thought, incredulous. A village girl, chosen to restore balance to the world.
Elyra must have sensed her hesitation because she approached, her movements as graceful as a wisp of air.
"I know this weighs heavily on you, Isabella," Elyra said softly. "But the Heartstone would not have chosen you if you did not possess the strength to carry its burden."
Isabella swallowed hard and turned to face the Guardian of Light. "I just… I don't understand. Why me? There must be others—warriors, mages, people who actually know how to fight darkness."
Caelum stepped forward, his silver armor glinting faintly in the Archives' ethereal light. "It has never been skill alone that determines who is chosen. It is the purity of one's spirit. The Heartstone seeks those with unwavering resolve, the will to resist corruption, and the light to illuminate even the darkest corners of the world."
Isabella shook her head. "But what if I fail? What if the darkness wins because I wasn't strong enough?"
Malrik's shadowy form drifted closer, his cold voice cutting through her doubt. "Failure is always a possibility, girl. The darkness thrives on doubt, and it will seek to exploit every crack in your spirit. But what matters is your choice: do you let fear rule you, or do you rise and meet it head-on?"
His words struck a nerve, and Isabella clenched her fists. She still didn't feel ready, but something deep inside her—a quiet, stubborn flame—refused to be extinguished.
"Then tell me what I need to do," she said, her voice steady. "Tell me how I can win."
The Guardians exchanged glances, a silent agreement passing between them. Finally, Elyra gestured toward a narrow stone corridor leading deeper into the Archives.
"To wield the Heartstone's full power, you must first receive its Mark," Elyra explained. "It is a symbol of your bond to it—a connection that will allow you to call upon its strength."
"A mark?" Isabella asked, furrowing her brow.
"A sacred rite," Caelum clarified. "One that will test you further. The Heartstone must accept you fully for its power to awaken."
Isabella exhaled slowly and nodded. "Then let's do it."
The corridor led to a hidden chamber carved deep into the earth. The walls were smooth, polished obsidian, and the only light came from the Heartstone itself, which pulsed faintly against Isabella's chest as if responding to the room's energy.
In the center of the chamber, a stone pedestal rose from the ground, its surface inscribed with glowing runes. Above it, a crystal—a shard of the Heartstone—hovered, spinning slowly and radiating warmth.
"Step forward, Isabella," Caelum instructed, his voice solemn.
Isabella hesitated for only a moment before walking toward the pedestal. The shard's glow grew stronger as she approached, and she could feel its energy vibrating through her veins, like an invisible tether pulling her closer.
"What do I do?" she asked, her voice a whisper.
"Place your hand upon the shard," Elyra said gently. "Let it see you, feel your spirit."
Isabella reached out, her fingers trembling as they hovered above the shard. The moment her skin made contact, a surge of energy rushed through her body—searing hot and freezing cold all at once. Her knees buckled, and she gasped, but she refused to let go.
Visions exploded behind her eyes, blinding and all-consuming. She saw flashes of herself as a child, running through the fields of her village; her mother's smile as she baked bread; her father's laughter as he lifted her onto his shoulders. She saw the night her family disappeared, the shadows swallowing their home whole. The grief. The fear. The anger.
The visions shifted again, and now she saw something else—herself standing in a field of ash, surrounded by monstrous Beasts. Their red eyes glowed like embers in the darkness, but instead of cowering, she stood tall. Light erupted from her chest, pushing back the shadows, burning them away until nothing remained but the silence of victory.
The shard's energy pulsed in time with her heartbeat, and suddenly, a brilliant light filled the chamber. Isabella cried out as the heat intensified, and for a moment, she thought she might shatter into a thousand pieces—but then the light dimmed, and she collapsed to the ground, panting.
"Isabella!" Elyra's voice called out, and hands gripped her shoulders, steadying her.
"I'm… I'm fine," Isabella managed, though her body felt like it had been through a storm.
"Look," Caelum said softly.
Isabella followed his gaze to her right hand. There, etched into her skin, was a glowing mark—a symbol of intricate swirls and sharp angles, pulsing faintly with light. The Mark of the Heartstone.
"What… what does this mean?" she asked breathlessly.
"It means the Heartstone has accepted you," Elyra said with a proud smile. "You are now its vessel. Its power will answer your call."
Isabella stared at the mark, awe and fear warring inside her. She could feel it—a hum of energy, alive and waiting just beneath her skin.
"But this is only the beginning," Caelum added. "Now that the Mark has been given, the Beasts will sense your presence. They will come for you, Isabella, and they will stop at nothing to consume you."
Isabella looked up, meeting Caelum's steely gaze. The weight of his words settled over her, but she didn't flinch. The mark burned faintly, as though reminding her of the power she now held.
"Then let them come," she said, her voice steady. "I'll be ready."
The Guardians exchanged glances, and for the first time, Isabella saw something like pride in Malrik's shadowed face.
"Spoken like the Chosen you are," Malrik said.
Elyra placed a hand on Isabella's shoulder, her expression warm. "Rest now. The road ahead will be long and perilous, but you will not walk it alone. The Heartstone is with you, and so are we."
Isabella nodded, her hand curling into a fist as the mark pulsed softly beneath her skin. For the first time since this journey began, she felt a glimmer of hope. The Beasts would come, and the darkness would rise, but she would face it head-on.
Because she was the Chosen.
And she would not fail.
In the depths of the world, far beyond the reach of light, something stirred. A low growl echoed through the darkness, and two crimson eyes blinked open, their gaze fixated on a distant pulse of light.
She has awakened.