The seven locks of powers

The wind howled through the crooked towers of Veradine as if the city itself mourned something ancient and forgotten. Lanterns flickered, shadows danced on stone walls, and silence ruled the crooked alleyways — except for one place. Inside the forbidden library beneath the old palace ruins, a figure cloaked in midnight black leaned over a scroll. Her hands, long and pale, trembled as she traced the lines of forgotten prophecy etched in silver ink. Malvera Nox. Feared across lands, the witch of Veradine had lived for centuries by stealing time from others. Her eyes, once human, now glowed with a dark violet hue. She whispered the ancient words aloud. “Seven locks shall bind the power, One soul alone can free their fire. If touched by hands not born of light, The world shall drown in endless night.” A sharp grin cut across her pale face. So it’s true... The scroll confirmed the legend — seven hidden locks scattered across the world, guarding a power not seen since the birth of the stars. A power that could command nations, bend time, and shape reality. But it wasn’t meant for her. No. It belonged to a “child of light,” a mysterious soul the prophecy claimed would rise “when the world teeters on the edge of chaos.” No name. No place. No clue. Just riddles. Malvera’s fingers curled, crushing the brittle parchment. “I don’t need to be chosen,” she hissed. “I only need to get there first.” Above her, the wind screamed louder. A raven landed on the ledge, its eyes glowing faintly blue — a familiar, her loyal watcher. It cawed once, sharply. She turned, her cloak trailing like smoke. “Go,” she whispered. “Find them. Find the one born of light... and kill them before they discover who they are.” Miles away, in the quiet village of Elmoor, a boy jolted awake. Sweat clung to his brow, and the whisper of a name still echoed in his ears: “Kaelion...” But no one had spoken it aloud. Not yet.