The Heirs of Death

6.1 Hidden Words

HIDDEN WORDS

I'd witnessed several horrors ever since the prophecy snatched me from my simple life on Earth and propelled me into Ardoria a bit over half a year ago. I had faced death, had unveiled secrets that were more deadly than anything else, and had fought against demons.

And lived.

But nothing, nothing, could have prepared me for what we were discovering.

We had stayed chained to our spots until dawn creaked in at last, going through pages after pages, seeking something. Anything. Whatever information, explanation or solution could save us, and we became so desperate we begged it was nothing but a false trail meant to stir us from our plans. But we knew better than to fool ourselves.

And what greeted my eyes, what was sculpted in my memory, didn't ease my soul one bit. We read and read and read about Apocalys, unveiling so much of what we believed was nothing but a lie. A bitter and fierce lie to allow us to sleep with closed eyes at nights and nothing more.

There were scripts about the Red War, about Apocalys's conversion, about the power he possessed. Those powers, those unholy surges of magic in his immortal soul that challenged the Great Five. The same powers that wrecked the heavens, killed Aether's daughter, and doomed us all. There was no word to describe the Dark God, nothing to give justice to all this darkness. And he was just that: a father of darkness and death. A body of powers more chaotic than anything this world could endure.

But there was one more thing that sucked the warmth of my blood and made my bones weak, and it was the thought of standing in front of a former god, a useless sword and shield against masses of powers that could annihilate everything I came to care for in seconds.

My heart felt tight and heavy, all the weariness of the night pounding in my veins, obscuring my mind. I stirred my eyes from the page we were studying and focused on the white. For how long, I didn't know. The only thing I was conscious about was the bits of memories tugging at the thin ends of my mind, beckoning me to remember something I couldn't quite place my finger on. Something so close I could picture it in front of my eyes but couldn't be summoned, a memory out of fingers' reach. And then I became aware that the book was glowing, light propelling from it with smoothness I could never capture with words.
The letters twisted and melted—the so familiar sight—before a prophecy, a warning, was inked. My heart skipped a beat. I didn’t look at how it was summoned, didn't bother wondering if it was a clue from the Gods or anything else. I just read.

"Thou, the one who has all seen,
Life and death and everything in between.
Thou, the Queen who can speak,
The one who redemption and destruction seek,
The heavens warn thee.

Far in the darkness, a threat is rising,
And between what was left, a God is awakening.

Beware the bleeding of the moon,
As it is the beginning of doom.