A rush of wind swept through Whitlock Square the moment the box opened—cold and sharp, like it had been waiting centuries to breathe again.
Liam stared at the contents, barely able to believe his eyes.
Inside the box wasn't treasure, wasn't gold, or weapons… but a single object: a black velvet pouch and a folded slip of parchment that looked burned at the edges. The pouch seemed to pulse faintly, as if it had a heartbeat of its own.
Liam reached in carefully and pulled out the parchment first.
Unfolding it, he read:
> Only the forgotten can wield what has been sealed. You are marked by silence, chosen by shadows. Speak not of this, or it will vanish again.
"Chosen by shadows?" he whispered.
Seraphina didn't flinch. "It's a warning. And a truth."
He turned to her, voice sharp. "What am I involved in?"
She took a step closer. "Something ancient. Something buried beneath lies and blood. That box was hidden long before either of us was born."
"And how do you know so much about it?"
She hesitated, then finally said, "Because I opened one too… years ago."
Before Liam could process that, the pouch began to tremble. He opened it slowly.
Inside was a ring.
Black as midnight, engraved with the same strange symbols as the box, and cold—so cold it felt like ice even in his palm. But when he slipped it onto his finger, it adjusted perfectly, locking around his skin.
And then everything changed.
The world around him shifted.
Whitlock Square began to fade.
Not in color—but in time.
The vines grew backward.
The cracks on the angel statue sealed up. The buildings surrounding them changed—lights dimming, shapes warping, everything rewinding like a film in reverse.
"Seraphina—what's happening?" Liam gasped.
But Seraphina wasn't there anymore.
She was gone.
Instead, the square was full of people now—ghostlike figures dressed in old-fashioned clothes, moving in silence. No sound. No wind. Just shadows of the past.
And then Liam saw himself.
A younger version. Maybe seven years old. Alone, standing by the statue, staring up at it.
His breath caught.
He remembered this day.
It was the day he got lost from his parents… but had never remembered what happened after.
Until now.
The boy version of Liam turned—slowly—his eyes locking directly with Liam's current self.
But that shouldn't have been possible.
The boy lifted a hand and pointed at the statue's head.
Liam looked up.
There—hidden behind the sculpted wings—was another symbol. Glowing faintly.
And the moment he saw it, he was yanked back—back to the present, back to the real world. The sounds returned. The cold wind bit into his face. He stumbled, breath ragged.
Seraphina caught him.
"I told you it would change you," she said quietly.
He looked down at the ring. The symbols were still glowing faintly.
"What was that?" he asked.
"Your first vision," she said. "They'll only get stronger. And more dangerous."
He stared at her. "What do you mean more dangerous?"
She looked up at the sky, which now had a faint red hue on the horizon.
"Because now… they know you have it."
"Who?"
But she didn't answer.
Instead, she pulled something out of her coat. A black envelope.
"This was given to me the night I opened my own box," she said, handing it to him.
Liam opened it.
Inside was a card.
It had no address, no name.
Only a symbol.
The same one that had glowed behind the statue.
And one phrase written in gold ink:
> The Circle of Thirteen awaits.