A book.
Not just any book. The book's cover was made of something that wasn't quite leather, wasn't quite skin, wasn't quite anything that should exist. It hurt to look at directly, like reality itself rejected its presence.
But the title was clear, burned into the cover in letters that still smoked after who knew how many years:
The Chronicle of Betrayals, by Pandora of the Mortal Realm, Last Free Woman of the Old World
My hands shook as I opened it.
The first pages were filled with Pandora's careful script, but as I read, the writing became increasingly frantic, desperate, like she was racing against time to record everything before something terrible happened.
"They came as saviors, and we welcomed them with open arms. The princes of Olympus, beautiful and terrible, powerful beyond mortal understanding but gentle in their power. They healed our plagues, ended our wars, taught us to read the seasons and the stars."
"I was chosen as bride to the Dragon Prince, not taken, not demanded, but chosen after a year of courtship where he proved himself worthy of my heart. Kaelen. His name was Kaelen, and when he smiled, I forgot how to breathe."
My heart stopped. Not his ancestor. Not someone with the same name.
Kaelen. My Kaelen.
"The wedding was to be held at midsummer. A joining not just of two souls but two worlds. Our children would be bridge between mortal and divine, healing the ancient wound that separated earth from sky."
"But the Council had other plans."
The next pages detailed the betrayal in nauseating detail. How the Council had captured Pandora's younger sister, threatening to torture her unless Pandora helped them chain the princes. How they'd corrupted the wedding ceremony itself, turning vows of binding in love into literal chains of imprisonment.
"They made me watch as the chains took hold. Made me see the betrayal dawn in Kaelen's eyes, the rage replace love. Flynn howled until his throat bled. Thane wept for the innocents who would suffer. Elias spoke prophecies of doom that the Council laughed at."
"But the worst part was what they did after."
My hands trembled as I turned the page.
"The chains weren't enough. The Council wanted permanent control, wanted to ensure the princes could never escape even if someone sympathetic found them. So they bound them to my bloodline, not as keepers but as parasites. My daughters would feed them, yes, but each feeding would make the chains tighter, the prison stronger. We weren't jailers. We were the torture itself. We were keeping them alive enough to suffer but never enough to live."
Tears ran down my face, dripping onto the ancient pages.
"I tried to die. Threw myself from the highest tower. But they brought me back, used the princes' own power to heal me. Said my bloodline was too valuable to waste. Said I had a duty to bear daughters who would maintain the prison."
"So I had a daughter. And another. And another. Each one raised in ignorance, taught to see duty where there was only cruelty. Each one fed lies from birth, shaped into willing weapons against beings who had done nothing but love too freely."
The final entry was different, written in what looked like blood:
"I have become the lock, and my daughters will be the keys. But one day, a key will choose to open rather than close. She will carry their fire in her veins, their song in her dreams. She will love them as I loved them, but she will be strong where I was weak."
"The prophecy is not their doom. It's their salvation."
"And hers."
"When she comes, when she reads these words, when she understands the full weight of our betrayal, let her know this…The Gate can be destroyed from within. Enter it not as a Keeper but as yourself. Let their power flow through you fully, without reservation, without control. Become the bridge you were always meant to be."
"The Council will call it corruption. The princes will call it choice."
"But you, my daughter, my redemption, you will know it as love."
"Choose them. Choose yourself. Choose the truth that sets you all free."
"And forgive me. Please, forgive me for the chains you were born wearing."
The book crumbled to dust the moment I finished reading, as if it had been waiting centuries just to deliver this message. But the words were branded into my memory, into my very soul.
