Chapter 45 Arkanum Veritas (6)
Meanwhile, far above, at the peak of the cracked and rusty clock tower, Fitran stood alone, surrounded by swirling dark clouds that loomed like a menacing giant.
The rain never touched him, though a cold wind whispered by, carrying the scent of damp earth rising from below. Shadows resisted drawing close, seeming to maintain their distance from the tension that enveloped him.
Fitran watched Elena from afar, his heart racing as he felt a strange wave of energy surrounding her. Calm yet powerful, Elena exuded a mystical aura that was both captivating and terrifying, as if she were encircled by a gentle light that contrasted with the surrounding darkness. He knew her name; he recognized her figure from ten versions of the future—in each scenario, he saw her trapped: hanged, burned, or inscribed in history as the mother of the nation. Futuristic and grim, each scenario tortured him with a suffocating emptiness.
"Wounds always seek a tongue to speak. And sometimes, the chosen one is not the sorcerer... but the seamstress."
Fitran stood still. He was neither a god nor a savior. He was merely a guide—sometimes with a gentle light, sometimes with thick darkness. In his silence, his mind spun, contemplating the steps he needed to take, while around him, the sky grew darker and thunder rumbled, creating a tension that flowed through his veins. He felt a vibration within him, as though the world around him pulsed in rhythm with his heart, filled with doubt, terrifying yet captivating.
"It seems I still cannot feel my power," Fitran said, his voice hoarse and soft, like the whisper of the wind carrying bad news.
"They should emerge if he does," Fitran continued, his gaze fixed on the silhouette of Elena, immersed in prayers amidst the darkness, each word uttered crashing like waves against rocks.
Then he turned slightly, sensing something approaching, slipping through the silence. Below, Kael Juno stepped back, and for a brief moment their eyes met, like light and shadow drawing closer to each other. No words were exchanged. Just one understanding:
What is written tonight... will ignite the palace tomorrow. Each word echoed like a forbidden whisper between them, radiating a suffocating vibration. Kael was a complex figure; his presence unfurled like thick fog, wrought with consequences, his myriad emotions clashing and intertwining within his mind.