The moment Leora stepped through the threshold of the obsidian spire, the world changed again.
The shadows outside vanished, swallowed whole by the blinding silver light that filled the tower's interior. The air shimmered, filled with soft chimes and echoes of words spoken long ago in languages she didn't recognize.
It was as if the spire was alive—not breathing, but remembering.
Kael stumbled in behind her, still brushing ash off his cloak from the Wraith's disintegration. "Next time," he muttered, "let's knock first."
Leora said nothing. She couldn't. Her senses were overwhelmed. The third sigil that had burned onto her back still pulsed with warmth. Her chest, palm, and spine now carried celestial marks—alive with hidden power.
The shard in her satchel began to float on its own, lifting gently into the air before her, glowing with bright golden light.
Kael raised an eyebrow. "That normal?"
"No," she said softly. "Nothing about this is."
The inner walls of the tower were lined with runes—some glowing, others dark and cracked. As they ascended the spiral path that wrapped along the inner wall, Leora could feel something shifting in the atmosphere.
Not danger.
Not welcome.
Just... expectation.
The tower was waiting.
Halfway up, they entered a circular chamber with no roof. The sky—if you could call the swirling stars above a sky—poured down like an endless waterfall of light.
In the center of the chamber was a pedestal.
Upon it: a book bound in star-metal and rootlike tendrils. It hovered a few inches above the stone, unmoving, untouched by time.
Leora approached, her eyes locked on it.
Kael hung back. "Don't touch it just yet. That thing looks cursed."
"It's not cursed," she whispered. "It's... familiar."
The moment she reached out, the sigils on her body blazed once again. The pedestal split open like a flower blooming, and the book fell gently into her hands.
As soon as she touched the cover—everything stopped.
No sound.
No wind.
Even Kael disappeared from view.
She stood alone in an endless white space.
Then, a voice echoed—female, ancient, and somehow her own.
"Leora of the Starborn Flame. You have awakened the third. Memory now returns."
The book opened by itself.
Its pages shimmered with starlight, then exploded outward, forming images—floating scenes like memories made of light and smoke.
Leora watched them unfold around her.
A city in the sky, suspended by glowing rings of stone and fire.
A woman who looked like her—but older, regal, crowned in silver and flame.
A great war, between winged giants and cloaked figures of darkness.
A blade made of starlight—shattered.
A betrayal.
A fall.
A seal being forged in blood and fire.
And then... a newborn, swaddled in light, cast from the stars down to a crumbling mortal world.
Leora gasped.
"That's me," she whispered.
The voice returned.
"You were not meant to awaken yet. But the seal is breaking faster than the Weavers foresaw. The world calls. The stars respond. You must gather the rest. Or all is lost."
"Who am I?" Leora asked. Her voice was small. "What am I?"
The answer came not as words, but as a flood of feeling.
Grief.
Hope.
Sacrifice.
Starborn. Last of the Seven Lights. Daughter of the Celestial Flame. Keeper of the Forsaken Sigils.
She wasn't just someone chosen by prophecy.
She was the prophecy.
A rebirth of something ancient and powerful—sealed away to stop the end of the world.
The book snapped shut.
She gasped and stumbled back into the chamber. Kael caught her before she fell.
"You alright?" he asked, steadying her.
Leora blinked rapidly. "I... I saw something. I remembered things I've never known."
Kael's expression darkened. "That's usually how madness starts."
"No." She looked at him. "This was different. I know why I have to find the other sigils now. And I know what happens if I fail."
He nodded slowly. "Then we better make sure you don't."
Suddenly, the tower trembled.
The runes on the walls turned blood red.
Kael spun toward the entrance. "That doesn't feel like success."
From the shadows, a new figure stepped into the chamber.
A woman.
Tall. Cloaked in silver and black. Her eyes were burning coals, and her voice was made of knives.
"So," she said. "The last Starborn rises again."
Kael raised his bow instantly. "Friend of yours?"
Leora shook her head. "No. But I know what she is."
The woman stepped forward. With each step, the air grew colder.
"I am Vaelira. High Priestess of the Hollow Order. Harbinger of the Unmaking. And you, little flame, are mine to extinguish."
She raised one hand—and a blast of void energy ripped through the chamber. Kael tackled Leora to the ground as the explosion shattered part of the wall.
Leora rolled to her feet, sigils glowing bright. "I don't think so."
She raised her hand—and light burst from her palm in a wide arc, shielding them from a second attack.
Kael fired an arrow laced with his own enchanted binding thread. It wrapped around Vaelira's arm—but she tore through it like paper.
"You're not ready," Vaelira said coldly. "But soon you will be. And then, child of stars, I will unmake you myself."
She disappeared in a cloud of dark mist, vanishing before their eyes.
The tower went silent once more.
Leora fell to her knees, breath shaking.
Kael crouched beside her. "That woman... she's not just a priestess, is she?"
Leora's eyes met his. "She's the one who destroyed the city in my vision. The one who betrayed the Starborn before."
"And she's coming back," he said grimly.
"No," Leora whispered. "She never left."
---
End of Chapter 7 Cliffhanger:
Leora regains a powerful memory inside the Spire, learning her true identity as a reincarnated Starborn, one of the Seven Lights meant to seal away a cosmic doom. But just as she begins to piece together her purpose, Vaelira—the High Priestess of the Hollow Order—arrives to destroy her. The threat is real, and the ancient enemy walks the world once more.