The bells of Hue Shrine rang before dawn, their sacred tones rippling like wind over glass. Seraphina stirred within her private quarters, her breath visible in the soft chill of the early morning. Another day of training awaited, yet her thoughts clung to the names she had seen etched in that ancient scroll… and the blank line waiting for her own end.

She slipped from bed and wrapped herself in a white shawl, stepping out into the stillness of the shrine. Just beyond the eastern cloisters, the garden of mirrored pools awaited—the place where the lightmaidens performed their morning invocation. By the time she arrived, the others were already kneeling at the water’s edge, murmuring prayers.

Among them was Meris, who gave Seraphina a small smile, eyes betraying the weight of last night’s conversation. After the ritual, the two lingered behind as the others dispersed.

"Did you go back into the vault?" Meris asked softly, brushing dew from her sleeves.

Seraphina nodded. "My name was already on the scroll. No date. Just… there."

 "That’s not supposed to happen. Not unless…" Meris hesitated. "Not unless the gods have already chosen your end."

The silence between them was uneasy, but familiar. They had grown used to walking the edge of forbidden thoughts. Seraphina looked out at the reflection of the shrine’s spires in the water.

"Do you think the others knew?" she asked. "The ones who came before me. Do you think they saw it coming?"

Meris’s expression darkened. "If they did… no one let them speak it aloud."

Later that day, their training resumed under Matron Calla, who brought them deeper into the shrine’s sacred rites. The lesson was conducted in the Chamber of Silence, a round hall carved from pale marble, with an open ceiling that revealed the sky above.

"A Saintess" the Matron said, "must learn not only to heal the body but to touch the soul. What separates a Saint from a priest is the divine resonance—the voice of the gods that sings through them."

She held out her staff, and the chamber filled with a low hum. The lightmaidens closed their eyes in meditation, hands placed gently over their hearts. Seraphina obeyed, and as she reached inward… she felt something stir.

"Saints are entrusted with the sacred duty of purifying the world of erosion and bringing healing to the afflicted," she continued, her voice serene. "But they can only fulfill this purpose once they have truly understood—and fully embraced—the magic that dwells within them."

A warm pulse of magic flared in her chest. Light spread to her fingertips, forming soft, glowing threads. Around her, the other maidens glowed faintly—except for Meris, whose light was nearly undetectable.

"You feel it, don’t you?" Meris whispered afterward, clutching her own robes. "Like it’s… alive in you."

Seraphina nodded. "I think it’s been there since birth."

Meris’s gaze softened. "And yet I’ve been here since I was five, and I’ve never felt more than a flicker. What if I’m not meant to be here?"

Seraphina reached over and gently touched Meris’s hand. "You’re here for a reason. Maybe not to be a a lightmaiden. Maybe… to uncover the truth with me."

That night, after curfew, they slipped back into the shrine’s inner archives.

There, they discovered a section older than the rest—sealed behind a mural depicting the Great Erosion. The image showed a child of light standing against a darkened world, arms outstretched as magic exploded from her form. At the mural’s center was a sun sigil, cracked with time.

Meris pressed her hand against it on impulse.

The wall shifted.

A small opening appeared, revealing a narrow stone passage lit by floating wisps of golden fire.

"We’re not supposed to be here," Meris whispered.

"I know," Seraphina replied. "But we were never meant to vanish either."

At the end of the passage, they found a hidden vault. Inside were sealed scrolls, personal effects, and journals bound in delicate silver thread.

One caught Seraphina’s eye: a diary labeled "Velia: Year 0-20".

She opened it with trembling hands.

"Today I saw a wedding in my dreams. A golden crown. But when I woke… my hands were stained with blood."
"I cannot tell the others. They say visions are divine. But I fear they are warnings."
"The vision seems to be someone in the future. A Saintess. She looks at me like she knows whats to unfold before her."

Seraphina froze.

"She had visions too," she whispered.

Meris leaned in. "She saw a crown. Like you."

Is Saintess Velia pertaining to me— seeing my own future?

They read in silence, page after page of a girl who had loved, hoped, and feared—only to vanish as all the others had. The last entry read:

"They say I am to return to the Holy Room at dawn. But I feel no peace. Only silence. If I do not return… let this be my echo."

Seraphina gently closed the book, her hands trembling.

"They knew," she whispered. "They all knew."

Behind them, the passage trembled faintly. A cold wind swept through.

Meris grabbed Seraphina’s hand. "We need to leave. Now."

They slipped back into the shrine, locking the mural behind them. But neither of them would ever forget what they had seen.

That night, as Seraphina lay in bed, the vision returned—stronger than before.

She stood in a grand palace, her hands bound by magic, a golden crown upon her head. Crown Prince Valerian knelt before her—his eyes swirling with shadow and light.

"You should have loved me," his voice echoed.

And then came the scream. Her own.

She bolted upright in bed, drenched in sweat.

Her hands were glowing again.

‘What if.. all the saintesses before me saw the same vision?’

And somewhere in the shrine, bells began to toll—softly, eerily—though it was still the dead of night.