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The wind howled outside the obsidian tower, but within the chamber where Seraphina stood, everything was still — reverent, as if the world itself held its breath.
Ravon knelt before her, not out of submission, but awe. His crimson eyes shimmered with a storm of emotions — protectiveness, disbelief, fear, and a reverent love that bound his soul to hers.
"You carry… our child," he whispered, voice rough and shaken. "A child born of prophecy… of light and darkness…"
Seraphina nodded slowly. Her hand instinctively rested on her lower belly, where the faintest warmth pulsed — not just life, but something older. Something holy. "The seed was planted in fire," she said softly. "But it grows with whispers of light. I don't fully understand what's happening… but I feel it. Something ancient stirs within me."
A distant rumble echoed in the skies above them. Ravon stood, pulling her into his arms as the ground trembled. "Then we don't have much time," he murmured into her hair. "Others will sense it. The child's essence… it's like a beacon."
As if summoned by his words, shadows curled at the edge of the room. Not threatening, but curious. Watchful. The spirits of the realm—sentient fragments of the Eclipsed Plane—gathered silently, bowing before Seraphina. She blinked, startled, but the power within her responded instinctively, pulsing like a heartbeat of dawn and dusk woven together.
One of the spirits stepped forward, its voice like wind brushing over cold stone. "She carries the Flameborn. The heir to both ruin and redemption. The child who will awaken the Veiled Gate."
Seraphina's breath hitched. "What… is the Veiled Gate?"
But the spirit only smiled, cryptic and sad. "When the time comes, you will choose whether to open it or not. And that choice will change everything."
Ravon's grip on her tightened. "Enough riddles. She is not your vessel."
But the spirit simply dissolved into mist, whispering as it vanished: "She is not a vessel… she is the threshold."
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