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The Legend of The Last

🇿🇦Mbali_Xabela
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Synopsis
Akari has always lived a quiet life, tending to her mother’s church but when she stumbles upon a mysterious door hidden within the church’s ancient walls, her life is forever changed. Embark on an epic tale of courage, sacrifice, and destiny in The Sajatai Chronicles: The Legend of The Last
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Chapter 1 - Chapter 1

Akari POV

I went down to the brick-lined subterranean chamber to find an old door in the undercroft that wasn't there before. The door stood tall, difficult to miss, with its surface adorned with ornate carvings, each representing a magical glyph. A burden in my chest anchored me to the ground, more than the heavy load in my arms.

The storage space below had always been the same. A storehouse for winter provisions, even peppered with some old crates and supplies. And a mysterious door that manifested from nowhere. Instincts screamed at me to run back upstairs and call for my mother, but an inexplicable pull was drawing me in closer and closer. And all I could do was watch the distance between the door and I shrink.

The door appeared to be crafted from aged, weathered oak. The wood was intricately carved and embellished with arcane symbols, patterns, and motifs that added to its otherworldly allure. The engravings were accentuated with gold leaf, giving the door an ethereal glow. The moment I was an arm's length away, a golden knob materialized, beckoning me to see what was on the other side.

I dropped the box on the ground, and I raced back upstairs, picking up the skirt of my tattered garb. I entered the stone stairwell, and I ascended three flights before I returned to the surface. I came out of the rear room and hurried back to the hall, which was constructed with timber frames and rough-hewn stone walls left in its natural state. Exposed wooden beams intersected the ceiling. My mother was at the other end of the hall. Interspaced between her and I were long wooden trestle tables arranged in rows down the length of the hall. The tables were sturdy and unadorned. Simple wooden benches accompanied the tables, providing ample seating.

"Mother!"

I moved down the main aisle, which divided the dining area in half. The hall was illuminated by the soft glow of oil lamps that bordered the interior. My mother remained knelt at the altar. Its surface was wide enough to hold essential elements of prayer, such as sacred texts, candles, and personal offerings.

"Mother."

She was enveloped in a virgin-white prayer shawl, embossed with delicate embroidery along the edges, depicting sacred symbols and verses from holy texts, lined with intricate silver thread. At the corners of the shawl, long fringes were attached and carefully braided.

I stopped when I was just a few steps from her.

"I ask so little of you," she said tenderly, but her voice was tinged with exasperation. "My time for prayer is all I ask."

"Well, I think someone heard you because there's something downstairs." A delirious laugh escaped me, and I raised a bumbling hand. "Heed my words; you wouldn't believe me if I told you."

She rose to her feet and turned to expose her face. "The door."

The air in my lungs fled the hall.

"How did you—"

Panic roused a storm in her eyes, and she took off running. She scurried to the main door and pulled it shut by its wrought handles. The windows were already outfitted with wooden shutters that had bolts to keep them securely closed. Her willowy, white-clothed form streaked from one window to another to ensure all of them were shut.

"Open the door, Akari."

"What—"

"Open. The. Door!" she exclaimed, her voice filling the entire hall with a rebounding echo.

All I could do was stare at my saccharine, small-voiced mother who had never yelled at me a day in my nineteen winters. Not even when I deserved it. She rushed over to me, grabbed my hand, and dragged me back towards the rear room. A thunderous bang sounded against the main double doors that brought me to a brusque halt. A frisson of fear sent my heart into a sprint.

"Come."

We both raced to the backroom, and we streamed down the stairwell, feet slapping against stone until we reached the storage space. My mother closed the door and slid the wooden bar across the inside of the door. The bar was slotted into brackets on either side of the door frame, effectively blocking it from being opened from the outside. She retreated first and whirled around to observe the arcane door, her eyes skimming over it like it had been there the whole time.

"Why are you looking at that door like it's just another crate?" I asked with a high spike in my voice, rattling off my questions. "How in the ten hells did you know that this mystical door had mystically appeared? Why am I the only one who's confused? And who was pounding at the door?"

My mother came to me to grasp my shoulders.Without her saying anything, I wrestled with my composure, focusing my breaths and trying to calm myself, despite panic hammering down even harder on my heart.

"Not a who. A what," she calmly corrected.