In the depths beneath the Dark Council’s fortress—buried under layers of stone, enchantment, and ancient secrecy—a lone chamber pulsed with faint, otherworldly light. The air was cool and still, thick with the weight of centuries-old magic. Glyphs carved into the walls glowed faintly, responding to the presence of the one who stood at the center of the room.
A hooded figure loomed before a wide basin carved from obsidian. Inside it, water shimmered like liquid moonlight, restless beneath an unseen force.
The figure lifted a hand.
The water obeyed.
“Twins of prophecy,” the Seer murmured, voice floating like silk through the chamber. “Born of power, bound by fate… yet still so unaware.”
At the Seer’s whisper, the enchanted pool rippled—then images began to take shape on its surface.
Ri
