The Forsaken Seal

The old library stood crooked at the far end of the village, leaning dangerously to one side as though it might finally collapse under its own weight. Its roof sagged, several windows were shattered, and time itself seemed to have gnawed at the edges of the building.

Layron had walked past it a thousand times — sometimes running, actually, because kids said the place was haunted. Now, standing in front of it, with Gramps beside him, Layron felt something far heavier than ghosts pressing down on his chest.

Gramps pushed the half-rotten door open with his foot, the hinges letting out a long, exhausted creak. Dust spilled into the air as sunlight illuminated shelves leaning like they were too tired to stand, books coated so heavily in dust they might as well have been fossils.

"Is this a place for training? People actually came here?" Layron muttered, wrinkling his nose. "This place looks like it's one cough away from collapsing."

Gramps didn't answer. He just stepped inside.

Then, from somewhere deep within the maze of shelves, came a voice — hoarse, cracked with age, but still loud enough to bounce off the wood.

"Oi! You're not dead yet, Tensuke?! Thought you finally croaked in your sleep, you stubborn bastard!"

Layron's head snapped toward the voice, eyes widening as an old man hobbled into view. His back was bent, skin wrinkled like ancient parchment, and his cane thumped against the floor with every step. Yet, despite his ancient appearance, his eyes were sharp, glittering with life.

"Shion Masaru," Gramps grunted, his tone a mixture of irritation and familiarity.

Shion's grin widened. "And this must be the boy." His eyes flicked to Layron, lingering for a moment before a strange relief crossed his face. "Finally. Thought I'd be dust before this day came."

Layron stiffened. "What day?"

Gramps gave Layron a subtle glance — the one that meant 'shut up for now.'

Shion cackled softly. "Don't worry, kid. You'll find out." He turned, shuffling back between the shelves. "Come on. No point wasting time."

Layron had about fifty questions already, but for once, he kept his mouth shut and followed. Every step raised another —

Why does Gramps know this guy so well? Why is some ancient man holed up in this wreck of a library? And why did he act like Layron's arrival was some prophecy coming true?

They reached a dead-end where a shelf, crooked and barely holding together, stood against the wall. Shion shuffled closer, slid his hand between the books, and yanked hard at something hidden within.

A thin, nearly invisible thread.

Somewhere in the walls, mechanisms groaned to life. The shelf shuddered, then slowly slid aside, revealing a narrow corridor of stone — the walls smooth, lit by faint flickering blue flames.

Layron's heart jumped.

This isn't just a library.

"Come on, boy," Gramps said. "Unless you're scared."

Layron swallowed, then stepped inside.

The corridor opened into a large circular room — the air charged with something ancient and heavy, as though even the stone remembered secrets. Symbols lined the walls, none Layron could read, and at the center stood a round metal table, worn with age but still humming faintly with power.

Layron barely heard Gramps and Shion muttering as his eyes roamed the relics scattered around — crystals, ancient weapons, half-rusted tools unlike anything he'd ever seen. Every corner felt like a doorway into some forgotten legend.

His fingers drifted to one of the books, covered in dust yet somehow still whole. The cover read: Protectors — A Complete Record.

Heart pounding, Layron flipped it open, skipping past the basic history and opened from middle page, until his eyes landed on The Supreme Overlords.

The Supreme Overlords, the highest authority governing the Protectors…

But then — a single line stopped him cold.

Except they are not the highest.

Layron's brow furrowed. "Wait—what? But Gramps always used to tell me that Supreme Overlords are top right?"

Gramps' voice cut through his thoughts. "Layron, move."

"But this book—"

"Now." Gramps' tone left no room for argument.

Reluctantly, Layron left the book behind and stepped to the center table, where Shion placed his gnarled hand on a nearly invisible button. With a faint click, the ceiling above them slid open, revealing a patch of night sky.

A sharp screech cut through the air.

Layron flinched back as a massive falcon dove through the opening, landing with precision on the center of the table. Its feathers were a glossy mix of black and silver, but its left eye glowed faintly — not organic, but mechanical, with shifting lenses spinning like a machine constantly adjusting.

"What the—" Layron took a step back.

Shion's smile returned. "Meet Falkren, the Skyseer."

Gramps crossed his arms. "Still alive, you old feathered freak?"

The falcon's head turned toward Gramps, then let out a sharp, annoyed screech.

Layron winced. "What the hell was—?"

"He's not just a bird," Shion said, cutting Layron off. "He's a living archive and a battlefield overseer. His left eye isn't just for show — it can see through any illusion, track enemies across miles, and detect a person's character and potential just from a glance. Every Protector leader before the Supreme Overlords consulted Falkren before making their biggest decisions."

Layron's eyes widened. "That's… insane."

Shion's grin turned almost proud. "He's been around longer than most bloodlines, kid. Seen wars, betrayals, forbidden techniques lost to time — and now, he's here for you."

The falcon's mechanical eye whirred, locking directly onto Layron.

Layron felt it — a prickle under his skin, as though Falkren wasn't just looking at him, but through him.

"Why me?" Layron whispered.

The falcon's beak opened — and in perfect, unfiltered human language, it spoke.

"[[ Because you are the crack in the seal.]] "

Layron's stomach twisted. "IT CAN SPEAK TOOO???"

The falcon's eye flickered. "[[ The one your blood was never meant to carry.]]"

Layron's mind spun. There were too many questions — too many half-answers. Every piece of this place, this room, Shion, even Falkren — they all knew something Layron didn't.

Why did the Falcon summoned Tensuke and Shion all of sudden after many years?

Why did the Protectors need a falcon with powers like this?

Supreme overlords are not the highest among protectors? Who did the Supreme Overlords answer to, if not themselves?

What did Falkren see when he looked at Layron — and why did it feel like Layron himself didn't want to know?

And most of all…

What does Zorthaal have to do with any of this?

The falcon's wings spread slightly, feathers rustling, its gaze never leaving Layron.

The answers were here — in this room, in these people, in this falcon's eyes.

But whether Layron was ready for them…

That was a different story.

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