Nightfall Prophecy

Extra Chapter: Echoes of the Past

The candlelight flickered against the cold stone walls, casting elongated shadows across the library's endless shelves. Celestine ran her fingers along the spine of an ancient tome, the leather cracked with age. She wasn't sure what had drawn her here tonight, only that something deep within her urged her to seek answers.

Lucien leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching her with quiet intensity. "You've been restless since the battle."

She didn't turn, still focused on the book before her. "Something about that creature… the Remnant. It felt familiar, like I'd seen it before."

Draven stepped from the shadows, his presence as quiet as the grave. "That's because you have."

Celestine's gaze snapped to him. "Explain."

Draven approached the grand table at the room's center, brushing dust from an ancient scroll. "The Remnants aren't just forces of destruction. They are echoes of something… older. A time before our world was shaped as it is now. And your bloodline is tied to them."

She swallowed hard, her fingers tightening around the book. "So I was never just an ordinary heir."

Lucien stepped forward, his expression torn between concern and something unreadable. "You were never ordinary, Celestine."

Draven unrolled the scroll, revealing faded sketches of creatures too monstrous to name. At the very center was a sigil—one Celestine had seen before, burned into her memories.

Her own family crest.

The realization sent a shiver down her spine. The Remnant hadn't just attacked them.

It had been calling her.

Draven's voice was quiet, but firm. "You were meant to face them, Celestine. The question is—are you ready to learn why?"

She exhaled slowly, staring down at the sigil.

No turning back now.

"Show me everything."

Draven placed a hand over the sigil, murmuring something under his breath. The symbols on the scroll glowed faintly, and an unseen force in the room shifted. A low hum filled the air, vibrating through Celestine's bones.

The library around them darkened as the sigil pulsed with power. Shadows twisted, forming images—glimpses of a forgotten past. Celestine saw warriors, clad in silver and black, standing against monstrous figures that defied logic. Among them, a woman stood tall, her fiery eyes mirroring Celestine's own.

"Who is she?" Celestine whispered.

Draven's voice was reverent. "Your ancestor. The first to wield the power you now carry. She was the only one who stood against the Remnants before the world knew their name."

Lucien's jaw clenched. "And she failed."

The shadows flickered, showing the woman's final moments—her power draining as the darkness consumed her. The vision collapsed into nothingness, and silence fell.

Celestine felt something deep in her chest tighten. "Then I will not make the same mistake."

Draven and Lucien exchanged glances.

"Then we have much to prepare for," Draven said, rolling the scroll closed. "Because if the Remnants are stirring again, they will not wait for us to be ready."

Celestine straightened, a new fire burning in her veins. She had been seeking answers, and now she had them.

Now, she needed a plan.