"Not all songs are meant to be heard. Some are buried—beneath stone, silence, and fear—waiting for the right voice to set them free."
---
The light from the portal dimmed, leaving only the soft glow of the stars above. I was standing in the heart of a hidden chamber, its walls carved from shimmering crystal, like a sanctuary built by ancient hands. A faint melody hung in the air—an almost imperceptible hum that seemed to breathe with the pulse of the room itself.
Leander's hand was at my back, steady and grounding, as though I might shatter into the ether if he let go. The soft whisper of his breath against my ear was the only thing pulling me away from the swirling beauty of this secret place.
"Where are we?" I asked quietly, my voice barely a whisper.
He didn't answer right away, instead scanning the room as if he, too, were unsure. He moved a step forward, then another, taking in the shelves of crystal jars and ancient scrolls that lined the walls. The soft flicker of magic in the air was intoxicating, and I couldn't shake the sense that something—someone—had been waiting for us here.
"The Songkeeper's Chamber," Leander finally murmured, his voice low. "A hidden part of the kingdom. It's said to house knowledge from the time before the curse."
A shiver ran down my spine. "Aeloria's lost history…" I whispered, looking around in awe.
He nodded. "And the Songkeeper's role is to guard it. To ensure the melodies of old are never lost—or corrupted."
I swallowed. "Why bring me here?"
Leander turned to face me, his eyes searching mine with an intensity I hadn't seen before. "I think you're meant to find something here. Something… important."
As if on cue, the room began to hum again, and a soft light flickered from one of the crystal jars. I stepped forward instinctively, drawn to the glow. Reaching out, I touched the cool surface of the jar, and the light shifted, revealing a set of ancient musical notes etched inside.
"This…" I began, my voice thick with wonder. "This is a song. But I don't know it."
Leander's expression darkened. "It's a song that's never been heard by human ears."
I hesitated, looking at him in confusion. "Then how—"
"Because it's your song," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
The words hung between us, heavy with meaning. My heart pounded in my chest as the weight of his words settled. "My song?"
He nodded. "It's in you, Lyra. The magic you wield, the voice you carry—it's been calling to this place. To the song that only you can sing."
The realization hit me like a wave: the prophecy, the trials, the voices that had echoed in my mind… They were all leading me here. To this moment.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, letting the melody of the jar fill me. It was haunting—an ancient melody, so pure it made my heart ache. The tune swirled around me, and before I could stop it, my voice rose to meet it, a sound that was both foreign and familiar. The notes I had never learned felt like they belonged to me, as if they were always there, waiting to be unlocked.
The crystal jar trembled under the force of my voice, the melody blending with my own in perfect harmony. And then, like a door opening, the magic of the room unfolded before us.
A low hum resonated through the chamber. The walls seemed to breathe as the notes became tangible, wrapping around me like a warm embrace. And for the first time, I felt as if I truly belonged to this world—not as an orphan, not as someone lost—but as the heir to something ancient, something powerful.
Leander watched, transfixed by the magic, as my voice soared and the air shimmered with light. And just when I thought I might lose myself in the music, the song ceased, leaving only silence in its wake.
The crystal jar was now empty. The glowing notes that had once filled the room were gone, leaving behind only the lingering echoes of the melody.
I opened my eyes, breathless, and turned to Leander. "What just happened?"
He took a step closer, his voice thick with awe. "Lyra… you've awakened something. Something long hidden in Aeloria. The song you just sang—it's not just music. It's a key. A key to the truth of this kingdom."
I shook my head, trying to absorb it all. "A key to what?"
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, his gaze drifted to the far corner of the room, where a large mirror stood, framed in silver and stone. The surface of the mirror rippled, like water disturbed by a single drop.
Leander's face darkened as he met my gaze again. "That mirror… it's connected to the prophecy. And it's waiting for you."
Before I could respond, the mirror shimmered, and the air around us grew cold. The walls seemed to close in, as if the chamber were alive—alive with purpose.
And then, just as suddenly, a voice echoed from the mirror. It was low, almost mournful, but familiar.
"Lyra…"
I froze.
It was a voice I knew, but could never place. It carried a weight of sorrow and longing, yet it seemed to call to me.
"Lyra, you are the key. You must awaken the truth. Only you can save Aeloria."
My heart thudded in my chest. "Who… who are you?" I whispered, taking a step toward the mirror.
But the voice faded, and the mirror's surface stilled.
And in the silence that followed, I knew: I had just uncovered the first of many truths. But they came at a cost. And now, there was no turning back.
---
My voice faltered. The memory pool went still, yet the silence echoed louder than any note I'd sung.
Leander stared at me, his princely composure cracked. "You think that was Queen Aria? Singing to you?"
"I don't think," I whispered. "I remember. The melody, the feeling—like home. She was holding me… singing to me. And I called her mother."
Leander's eyes darkened. "That's impossible. Queen Aria has been asleep for over a century."
"Exactly," I said. "So how could I remember her voice… unless—?"
"Unless you were there." He turned away, the weight of the moment falling like a curtain. "Lyra, if what you saw is real—if you are Queen Aria's daughter—then you're not just part of the prophecy. You are the prophecy."
The words made the chamber feel colder, tighter.
All this time I thought I had no past—just a voice that made people stop and stare. But maybe my voice had always belonged to someone… something greater.
The memory pool shimmered again. A new glow flickered at its center, revealing a second passage—a stone arch now illuminated by soft, golden magic.
Leander and I exchanged a look. No words needed. We walked through the arch.
The hidden chamber beyond pulsed with song.
Glowing vines stretched across crystal walls. Shelves overflowed with scrolls that whispered faint melodies, while a harp made of translucent stone sat quietly in the center of the room. Its strings hummed in rhythm with my heartbeat.
A single scroll floated toward us, unrolling mid-air like it had been waiting.
> To the Voice Lost and Found—if you hold the locket, the truth is yours to uncover. Seek the Final Verse. Beware the Broken Choir. They sing not for glory, but for ruin. The next song you choose will shape the fate of Aeloria.
I clutched the locket on my chest, suddenly heavy against my heart. "The Final Verse…"
"What's the Broken Choir?" I asked aloud.
"I've only heard myths," Leander said slowly. "A group of cursed singers who defied the Songkeepers and twisted melody into weaponry. It's said they were banished beyond the Veil… or destroyed."
"Or maybe," I murmured, "they're not gone at all."
Before either of us could say more, the chamber pulsed—then dimmed. The scrolls snapped shut, the harp strings stilled, and the arch behind us closed silently, like a secret swallowed by the dark.
We were being told: No more truths tonight.
---
That night, I couldn't sleep.
The stars watched as I paced the observatory, every note of that lullaby repeating in my mind. I was haunted by a voice that might have been my mother's—and by a question that could unravel everything: Who am I really?
I wasn't alone for long.
Seraphina appeared, cloaked in midnight velvet, her eyes reflecting starlight and secrets. "You've been somewhere you shouldn't have," she said coolly.
I didn't deny it.
"You knew," I accused. "You knew who I was this whole time."
Her lips curved slightly, not quite a smile. "I suspected. But the truth? That's not mine to tell."
My fingers clenched. "Then why hide it from me? Why lie?"
"Because truth is dangerous," she snapped, voice sharp as broken glass. "Especially when it belongs to a sleeping queen's daughter. You think the court will welcome you? You're a threat to every throne. To me. To the others. To the world."
"So what now?" I asked. "Are you going to destroy me?"
"No," Seraphina said, stepping closer, her voice suddenly soft. "I'm going to beat you. In the contest. In the prophecy. And when I win, I'll be the one who wakes the kingdom… not a ghost of a bloodline too dangerous to be remembered."
Then she turned and walked away, her cape trailing silence.
But her words lingered. And with them, the terrifying realization:
This wasn't just a contest anymore.
It was war—sung in secret, fought with hearts and harmonies.
---
The stars above continued to shimmer, the weight of Seraphina's words pressing down on me like a heavy blanket. I stood in the observatory, my mind spinning. This wasn't just about the prophecy anymore. It wasn't about a contest. It was about power, hidden histories, and bloodlines that had been buried under the weight of time.
The locket at my chest felt heavier than ever, its presence a reminder of the truth I had just unearthed. I was more than just a girl with a voice. I was more than the orphaned singer they had all come to admire. The legacy of Queen Aria pulsed in my veins, and it was clear now—my voice, my power, was the key to something far greater than I could have imagined.
I could feel it now, too. The weight of the kingdom on my shoulders. The pressure of not just saving Aeloria, but of claiming a throne that I had never even known was mine.
The silence stretched on, but it wasn't peaceful. It was an open question, a void where answers were too dangerous to speak aloud.
A flicker of movement caught my eye. Leander, standing at the threshold of the observatory, watching me silently. His presence brought me a brief sense of calm amidst the storm of thoughts swirling in my mind.
"You heard?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
He nodded, his expression unreadable. "I heard."
"Seraphina's right, isn't she?" I said, turning to face him. "The truth... it's dangerous. But it's mine to carry now."
Leander stepped closer, his face softening. "You don't have to carry it alone, Lyra. You never have to carry it alone."
I wanted to believe him. I did. But the weight of the prophecy, of everything that had been hidden from me, felt too heavy to bear. The bloodline, the legacy, the echoes of a queen who had long since fallen to slumber. It was all too much, and I feared I would shatter under its weight.
"I don't know if I can do this," I admitted, the words spilling out before I could stop them. "I'm not ready to wake Aeloria. I'm not ready to fight for a throne I didn't even know existed."
Leander reached out, his hand gentle as he cupped my face. "You were born for this, Lyra. Every note, every breath, every step you've taken has led you here. You've already started to wake the kingdom. The question isn't whether you can do it. The question is who you will become when it's done."
His words sank into me, deep and true. He was right, in a way. I had already begun, hadn't I? With every trial, every song, every unraveling mystery, I had taken one step closer to the truth. But I wasn't sure who I would be when I reached the end of this journey. What if the price was too high?
"I don't know who I am anymore," I whispered.
"You're Lyra," he said, his voice steady, unshakable. "You've always been Lyra. And that's the only thing that matters. Whatever happens next, you'll face it. And I'll be right there with you."
I closed my eyes, letting his words wash over me, grounding me in the present. For a moment, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of us in the quiet space between us.
But the world wasn't done with me yet.
A soft, distant sound reached my ears—a low hum, like a song on the wind. It was calling, pulling me back toward the path I had started down. I knew what it was. The next trial.
Leander seemed to sense it too, his hand slipping from my face to rest gently on my arm. "Are you ready?"
I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of everything pressing in on me. The prophecy. The kingdom. The fate of Aeloria. The stakes were higher than I had ever imagined.
No, I wasn't ready. But maybe I never would be.
"Yes," I said softly, my voice steady despite the storm inside me. "I'm ready."
We turned together, and I felt the weight of what was to come settle in my chest. The path ahead wasn't just a contest anymore. It was a war. A war fought in shadows and melodies, in secrets and lies.
And the next trial awaited.