Miralen traced her finger over the strange runes on the wooden board. The symbols twisted and shimmered faintly, but no matter how long she stared, they refused to make sense.
"What is it trying to tell me?" she whispered, frustration tightening her voice. The patterns looked alive— like veins of ink moving beneath the surface. After minutes of fruitless attempts, she sighed, defeated.
She flipped the board over.
A faint glint caught her eye a sheet of paper pressed beneath a cracked layer of glass. Carefully, she slid it out. Dust flaked off its edges. As she unfolded it, she realized it was... a map.
But of what?
Before she could take a closer look, the ground trembled.
At first it was a low vibration, like the heartbeat of something buried deep below. Then the shaking grew violent. The chandeliers rattled, glass fractured, and a roar like the groan of collapsing time echoed through the cathedral.
Miralen stumbled, clutching a pillar to stay upright. "What's happening–"
The marble floor split open in front of her. From the widening crack, something massive began to rise— dust swirling like storm clouds. When the light dimmed, a giant skeletal figure stood before her, its eye sockets burning with golden fire.
Her breath caught. "No way..."
The creature moved with ancient grace, bones creaking like a thousand ticking clocks. Its enormous hand reached toward her each finger sharp as a blade. Miralen dove aside, rolling across the cold marble just as the hand smashed into the ground where she had stood.
Boom!
The impact sent shards flying. Miralen's eyes darted across the room. The Time Vines beneath the floor pulsed wildly, glowing brighter with every strike.
"This thing... is it protecting the map?," she realized. "Is it the guardian of this place."
The skeleton roared, a sound that rattled through her chest.
Golden threads ran through its bones like veins of molten metal, and on the left side of its skull— jasmine flowers bloomed, eerily alive.
Miralen ran, dodging another attack. A statue toppled beside her, its stone sword clattering to the floor. Without hesitation, she grabbed it, its weight nearly pulling her down.
"All right, let's see what you've got," she muttered, raising the blade.
The giant straightened to its full height. Then its jaw opened—
and a glowing sphere of golden energy began forming before its mouth. The air hummed, trembling under the force gathering there.
Miralen's eyes widened. "That's... definitely not good!"
Instead of charging, she sprinted - behind it, weaving between broken pillars, her breath sharp and quick. Then she saw it a faint fracture at the base of its neck, where bone met spine.
"There."
She hesitated— not sure if it's a correct spot, but she had no choice left and now she needed height. She saw fallen columns near skeleton giant. She climbed on them, her movements frantic as the skeleton's attack neared completion. The hum rose to a deafening pitch. She leapt to the last pillar— directly beneath the weak spot.
The golden orb burst from the creature's mouth, tearing through the air.
Miralen jumped. Time itself seemed to slow— the broken sword gripped tight in her hand. With every ounce of strength she had, she plunged the blade into the weak spot.
A blinding light erupted.
The sword shattered. The explosion followed— golden energy engulfed the hall. Miralen was thrown backward, slamming into the wall. Everything went white.
Silence.
Then pain. Her entire body ached, blood running down her arm. She forced herself up, gasping, and through the settling dust saw the giant's bones scattered across the marble. The guardian was dead.
The once— majestic cathedral lay in ruin— pillars shattered, statues in pieces. Yet the throne stood untouched, gleaming under the flickering light.
Miralen staggered toward the map, clutching her bleeding arm. Every step was agony. She bent down, picked it up... and then froze.
The Time Vines were glowing again.
Soft, melodic threads of light began to rise from the cracks, swirling through the air. The same lullaby she'd once heard—
gentle and ancient— echoed through the cathedral. The light moved like a living song, brushing against stone, mending it.
Before her eyes, the destruction reversed— pillars straightened, statues reformed, marble fused together. The cathedral restored itself in silence.
Miralen stood, stunned, her wounds still bleeding. Then the glowing threads turned toward her, encircling her like a crown of golden music. She flinched as they brushed her skin and felt the pain melt away. Her wounds closed. The ache faded.
When the light dimmed, she stood taller, her eyes reflecting the faint shimmer of the vines.
"Guess I passed your test," she whispered with a faint smirk.
She turned and walked back through the narrow passage.
But as she was about to step out and she looked at the back of the portrait again, her heart stopped.
The painting had changed.
Now it showed a girl sitting upon the same throne Miralen had just seen. Jasmine flower in hand, head resting on her palm, one leg crossed over the other— calm, regal, and terrifyingly familiar. Behind her, a luminous female spirit floated like a guardian shadow.
Miralen stared.
"Who are you...?" she breathed.
No answer. Only silence.
She came out of that plans and closed the portrait, slipping quietly back to her room. But as she lay on her bed, the image wouldn't leave her mind— the throne, the girl, the map, the lullaby.
And for the first time, Miralen felt the game had just begun.
(The end of chapter 4)