The Great Hall had never held so many people in such thick silence. The air was tense, crackling with restrained emotion. Torches along the high stone walls cast long shadows across worried faces Elders, warriors, Moonborn, scholars, and commonfolk. All had gathered under one roof, bound by growing uncertainty and dread.
Lucian stood tall at my side, his arms crossed but his eyes fixed on the crowd. Kieran flanked me, ready to step in if tempers flared. Lira sat near the back among the other young Moonborn, her gaze locked onto me, silently pleading for direction, for hope.
I took a deep breath and let the silence stretch a few seconds longer.
"We are gathered not because of tradition," I began, letting my voice rise and fill the cavernous space. "Not because of ceremony or law. We are gathered because a truth long buried, long feared has begun to surface. And we can no longer afford to look away."
The crowd listened, frozen. The gravity of the moment pulled them still.
"Elder Marcus did not die of age or accident," I continued. "He was silenced. And in his absence, I found something that shatters what we thought we knew about the Flame… and about me."
I turned to the table where I'd placed the letter. I unfolded it with care, the parchment still stiff with age.
"He left this," I said, holding it high. "In it, he revealed a secret not even the Council fully knew."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
"My mother, Isolde Quinn, was not merely a healer. She was the Keeper of the First Seal an ancient ward forged by blood, Flame, and sacrifice to imprison a force too terrible to name."
Elder Vira stood slowly. "You claim there are seals that hold back some kind of darkness?"
"I don't claim it. I know it," I said firmly. "The Flame is more than a birthright. It's a key. It wasn't just meant to empower it was meant to bind. The Moonborn bloodlines, the Flame, the seals they are all connected. And when I awakened, when I lit the Flame… one of those bindings began to fray."
Elder Saran scoffed. "This sounds like legend. Myth dressed in fear."
Lucian stepped forward. "Then how do you explain the appearance of Shadowborn beasts in the east? How do you explain the increasing surges of corrupted magic? This is real."
I nodded. "Malrik isn't just gathering followers to challenge our territory. He's after the seals. He wants to unleash what sleeps beneath them."
A warrior stepped forward a tall, dark-skinned woman with battle-scars across her arms. "And if the seals break?"
"Then the war we've been preparing for is nothing compared to what will come," I replied. "This isn't just about politics anymore. It's survival. Of our people, our power, our world."
Lira stood then, her voice shaking but strong. "Then let us fight. Not each other. But whatever lies ahead."
I looked at her. Young. Newly awakened. Yet already braver than most.
"Yes," I said. "But we don't fight blindly. We search. We prepare. And we bind what was meant to remain sealed."
The next three days were a frenzy of preparation. We scoured the archives, seeking every scrap of history about the Seals most of it was vague, cryptic, or half-burned in the wars of old. But one pattern remained: the location of the First Seal had been tied to a place east of the valley, deep in the ruins of the Tempest Order a forgotten faction of Moonborn warriors who had vanished nearly a century ago.
I led the expedition myself. Lucian insisted on coming, along with Kieran, Lira, and three elite scouts. We traveled under the cloak of rune-marked silence, wary of Malrik's spies. The terrain changed as we moved east woods thickened into tangled groves, then into hauntingly quiet forestland where birds refused to sing.
The trees whispered as we passed.
On the fourth evening, we arrived at the edge of the Tempest Ruins.
It was as though time had frozen. Towering arches stood broken and blackened, walls crumbled into moss-covered stone. In the center of the site was an ancient altar, carved from obsidian and ringed with circular runes that pulsed faintly at our approach.
"This is it," I whispered.
Lira stepped beside me. "I can feel it in my bones. The air it hums."
I reached out and placed my hand on the altar.
Immediately, the Flame within me reacted. My blood heated, my breath caught, and visions crashed into my mind.
I saw my mother here.
Kneeling. Bleeding. Her hand pressed against the altar as she chanted in a language older than our own. Her eyes were fierce. She was sealing something—fighting the shadows that reached for her. Behind her, the ground trembled.
The vision snapped away.
Kieran held out a ceremonial dagger. "Only Flame and blood can reactivate the seal."
I took it without hesitation.
Slitting my palm, I let the blood drip onto the altar. The symbols flared, and the entire ruin shook as a wave of force erupted outward.
And then they came.
From the edge of the trees, creatures emerged twisted, hollow-eyed beasts of smoke and bone. Shadowborn. Monsters born of broken magic. They shrieked, and the very air warped around them.
Lucian drew his sword. "Protect her!"
The battle was chaos.
The beasts moved with uncanny speed, swiping with claws made of darkness. Kieran took down two with searing arrows, but more kept coming. Lira, channeling the new control I had taught her, blasted one with a burst of silver light, her hands glowing like miniature suns.
But the seal wasn't complete. The altar still pulsed wildly, uncontained.
I pressed my palm harder, chanting the words I had seen in the vision. The ground beneath me cracked. The Flame flared.
A beam of light shot skyward.
The beasts shrieked some disintegrating in place, others fleeing into the dark.
When the light dimmed, all was still.
The altar's glow had settled into a soft, steady hum.
The First Seal had been reactivated.
I collapsed to my knees, gasping.
Lucian caught me. "You did it."
"No," I whispered. "We did. All of us. And now… we find the next."