The Whispered Prophecy

The nights in Elandor had become a mixture of unsettling silence and disturbing dreams. For Elysiel, rest felt like a distant memory. Since the pact with Seraphis, her mind no longer entirely were hers. In sleep, vivid visions invaded her consciousness, shadows swirling around her thoughts, whispering promises of power and destruction. And at the center of it all—Seraphis.

He was always there, in every dream, in every nightmare. Sometimes, he was just a vague shadow in the distance; other times, he stood beside her, his cold hands holding hers, his dark gaze piercing her soul. There was something more to these visions, something unfolding like a riddle, a whispered prophecy she couldn't yet fully understand.

Elysiel woke up every night drenched in sweat, her chest tight and her body tense. Each dream felt more real than the last, each vision bringing a piece of darkness into her soul, and with it, a growing sense that her fate was tied to Seraphis in ways she had never foreseen.

One night, the vision was particularly vivid. She saw herself in a vast room with dark stone walls and an imposing throne made of bones and shadows at its center. Before her, Seraphis sat, his red eyes glowing intensely as he watched Elysiel approach. The shadows moved around him like living creatures, obeying his slightest command.

— Are you ready, Elysiel? — His voice was deep, reverberating through the room's walls. — The time of the prophecy is near. Our destiny is unfolding, and you cannot escape it.

Elysiel felt the weight of his words, as if the very air around her was becoming denser. She wanted to question him, to understand what he was saying, but before she could speak, the shadows enveloped her, and she woke up.

Gasping, Elysiel opened her eyes in the castle bedroom, the sky outside still covered by the darkness of night. She sat up in bed, feeling the cold sweat on her skin. Her body trembled, but it wasn't just fear. There was something more. This prophecy… what did it mean? She knew she needed answers.

The next morning, Elysiel found Seraphis in the castle's throne room. He stood with his hands behind his back, watching the morning light spread across the stone walls as if evaluating the balance between light and darkness in the space. When Elysiel entered, he turned, his eyes immediately focusing on her. There was something in Seraphis' eyes she couldn't ignore—an intensity that seemed to disarm her every time they met.

— You're troubled. — He observed, approaching slowly. 

— The visions. — Elysiel began, her voice hesitant. — I've been having dreams, nightmares… you're always there. The shadows… they whisper about a prophecy, about destiny. I feel like something bigger is approaching.

Seraphis was silent for a moment, his eyes studying Elysiel as he pondered how to respond. Finally, he spoke, his voice soft but loaded with deep seriousness.

— You are feeling the echoes of the prophecy. — He said. — An ancient fate has been set for us, Elysiel. From the moment you called me, our souls were connected.

Elysiel took a step forward, feeling the need for answers. — What prophecy? What are you hiding from me, Seraphis? I need to know what's happening.

Seraphis sighed, his eyes showing a flicker of something that seemed almost vulnerable, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared.

— The prophecy was written millennia ago by those who understood the bond between light and darkness. It speaks of a union between a creature of light and a creature of shadows. Together, they would shape the fate of the realms, bringing either balance or chaos. From the moment we made the pact, I knew you were the key to this. We are that union, Elysiel. Our destinies are intertwined.

Elysiel felt a chill run down her spine. The idea that something so ancient and deep was controlling her steps terrified her. A union between light and darkness. Was this what he expected from her? More than just a pact to save her people?

— And what does that mean? — She asked, feeling more lost than ever.

Seraphis stepped even closer, his hands finding their way to hers. His touch was cold, but familiar. A shiver ran through Elysiel's body as she felt that contact. She was aware that more and more, Seraphis' presence brought with it a feeling she couldn't name. It was something more… dangerous.

— It means that our bond goes far beyond this pact. — Seraphis murmured, his eyes locked onto hers. — We are destined for each other, Elysiel. Not as master and servant, but as equals. And together, we will shape the realms. But for that, you need to accept what we are. You need to accept me completely.

Elysiel felt her heart race. She could feel the intensity of his words, the closeness of their bodies, and the growing connection between them. What started as a pact to save her kingdom was transforming into something deeper, something more personal. Was this what Seraphis had wanted all along? A deeper union?

Before she could respond, Seraphis gently pulled her closer, his hand sliding to her waist. His gaze burned on her, as if waiting for a silent answer, something she didn't yet know how to give. Elysiel's heart pounded wildly, a mixture of fear and attraction taking over her mind.

But before anything else could happen, the sound of footsteps echoed through the hallway. Arabella appeared at the entrance to the throne room, her face serious and her golden wings slightly tense. She paused when she saw Elysiel so close to Seraphis, and the suspicion in her eyes intensified.

— Elysiel. — Arabella's voice was sharp. — We need to talk.

The tension between the three figures in the room was palpable. Arabella couldn't hide her concern, while Seraphis looked at her with a mixture of impatience and amusement.

Elysiel pulled away from Seraphis, the air around her heavy with tension. — Arabella… now isn't the best time. — Elysiel replied, her voice shaky. 

— I'd say it's the perfect time. — Arabella countered, her gaze moving from Elysiel to Seraphis. — You're sinking deeper into this darkness, Elysiel. I know you made the pact to save the kingdom, but you're losing yourself in the process. You're getting too close to him. This can't continue.

Elysiel felt the urgency in Arabella's words, but at the same time, something inside her rejected the idea of distancing herself from Seraphis. 

Seraphis smiled slightly, his eyes glinting with a touch of provocation.

— The question, warrior, isn't whether Elysiel is getting too close. It's whether she's ready to accept who she truly is. And the answer, Arabella, is that you cannot stop her. Neither can I. She's already made her choice.

Elysiel looked from Arabella to Seraphis, feeling torn. Arabella wanted to protect her, but there was something irresistible in Seraphis' power and presence, something that drew her in a way she couldn't deny.