I saw a vision of eyes flecked with gold.
Tests shall not break them,
nor Death condemn them,
for both man and god have chosen them.
But it was the next prophecy that stole the breath from my lungs:
From bone and ash, one will rise
with eyes that pierce death’s guise.
The Sky shall watch, the Ground shall claim.
The kingdom will fall to those once shamed,
marking the end of Bloodborne’s reign.
I stared until the words blurred, burning them into memory. Acaelar had foreseen the fall of the monarchy. No wonder this book had vanished into the shadows. It was dangerous.
A sound snapped me out of my trance—a faint scrape beyond the door.
Approaching footsteps.
Panic clawed at me. I shut the journal, easing it back into the case. My eyes darted for cover. But there was none. There was only the cold glass and the silent shelves.
The latch rattled.
“Who’s in here?” The librarian’s voice was low, venomous.
I knelt, heart hammering against the floor, praying my hair concealed me.
The door opened.
“I know someone’s here,” he hissed. When he spoke next, it sounded as though he were right on top of me. “My keys are missing.”
I let out a shaky breath I had been holding. It was over.
I rose slowly, hands lifted.
“You.” His eyes blazed with fury as he stalked toward me.
“I just wanted to look,” I whispered.
“Do you take me for some fool?” His voice dripped with menace.
“Of course not.”
“Did you touch anything?” His eyes were glued to the case, inspecting the journal inside.
“No,” I lied, pulse roaring in my ears.
His eyes flicked back to me, expression carved from stone. “You are banned from this library! If I see you in here again, I’ll hand you over to Marcum myself. Is that understood?”
The name hit like ice down my spine.
“Yes,” I breathed.
