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📖 Chronicles of the Watchers
Chapter 8: The Seer's Warning
The silence in the cavern was suffocating.
Kairo's mark still glowed faintly, the heat ebbing from his arm like dying embers. Liora stood rigid, her massive blade lowered but not sheathed, eyes fixed on the rippling water where Azariel's form had vanished.
"He should not be here," she muttered, her voice edged with fear she tried to hide. "The Watchers were buried in the deeps, far beyond mortal reach. If his voice can reach you…"
Before she could finish, a soft sound broke the gloom—bare footsteps splashing in the shallow water.
Selene emerged from the shadows of the giant ribs. Her white robes were soaked to the knee, strands of black hair clinging to her face. In her hands she carried a lantern that burned with pale blue fire, steady even in the damp air.
"You found him," she said quietly, her golden eyes fixed on Kairo. "Azariel has awakened."
Kairo stepped back. "You—you knew this would happen?"
Selene's gaze lingered on his arm, the faint glow of the mark. "I dreamed it. The tide carried his whispers long before you were born. But even I did not expect the Grave to stir this soon."
Liora's voice cut sharp across the cavern. "You brought him here. You knew the boy carried the Watcher's brand!"
Selene didn't flinch. "Better he face it now than be hunted blind."
The giantess's jaw tightened. "You speak as if the Watcher is an ally. Do not forget what your kind suffered in the First Flood. It was Azariel and his kin who defied the heavens and cursed the earth with us."
"And yet," Selene said softly, stepping closer, "without their defiance, your blood would never have walked this world."
The two women's stares locked, ancient resentment burning between them. Kairo shifted uncomfortably, feeling like a pebble caught between waves.
He finally burst out: "Enough! I don't understand half of what you're saying. All I know is that thing—Azariel—he called me his. Said I'd have to choose." His voice cracked, frustration spilling out. "What choice? What does he want from me?"
Selene's lantern dimmed, the blue fire flickering low. "Azariel is chained beneath the seas, bound by the priests of Kronas. He cannot rise without a vessel." Her eyes met his, steady and unyielding. "You are that vessel, Kairo."
The words slammed into him harder than any storm. His stomach turned cold.
"No," he whispered. "No, I—I'm not—"
"You are," Selene said gently. "The mark would not burn otherwise."
Liora stepped between them, towering like a wall of stone. "He will not be used. Not by gods, not by Watchers, not by seers."
Selene's lips curved—not a smile, not quite—but something like pity. "Then guard him well, Nephilim. Because the priests will come soon, and if they take him before his choice is made, the world will drown long before Azariel stirs."
A low rumble shook the cavern floor. Far above, in the cracks of the mountain, a faint tolling echoed—a bell struck by no hand.
Selene's lantern flared, throwing her shadow long across the bones. "The Time God's hunters are already moving. We must leave this grave before it becomes ours."
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⚡ End of Chapter 8.