Entry I: Daybreak - The Choosing of the Keeper
When the prophecy is misread, a war-scarred empire crowns the wrong girl its savior.
Every thousand years, the Celestial Grove names a Keeper. And for ten thousand years, Obsidian has waited for the one who will end death, deliver enlightenment, and lead them into their golden age.
Aisling Catenora never asked to become that symbol. Raised in privilege, shaped by propaganda, and gifted with a dangerous empathy she barely understands, Aisling is chosen by a force she doesn’t trust to fulfill a prophecy she’s been taught to revere. But beneath the ritual and reverence, something ancient is stirring—a truth buried in memory and blood.
The Grove has opened. The Choosing has begun. And the light that will endure may not shine the way anyone expects.
The dawn bells rang out across the city, then came the voice.
“For a thousand years of war And a thousand years defending”
Queen Federica’s voice echoed from the spires, soft and amplified, soaked in reverence.
“Every thousand years this door Marks a thousand years of mending”
Mothers paused, children straightened. Street vendors bowed slightly without looking up.
“In ten-thousand years restore What a thousand years was rending”
I mouthed along. It felt wrong not to.
“And with a thousand years more Find ten-thousand minds Ascending”
Her voice, more passionate now, speaking of the golden age to come.
“So walk the path, see through the mist The Grove beyond stands sure
The words, familiar yet uncomfortable, felt heavy on my tongue.
It waits for one, a catalyst Whose heart and hands are pure. A soul unbent by hatred’s twist Reveals the Grove’s own cure Heir to the throne, the Alchemist”
My lips froze.
“And a light that shall endure.”
Silence. The bell tolled again. The city exhaled.
The words inscribed into the stone door of the Grove. In Obsidian, we awoke to them, every morning. Our identity as a people: forged from heat and pressure into something beautiful and useful. Ten-thousand years have passed since the age of the Keepers began and The Thousand Year War ended. The search for the last keeper has begun.
I slipped on the dress I’d bought just for today; my family crest hanging from a chain round my neck. I smoothed the fabric trying to tame my nervousness. Today, the ancient doors to the Celestial Grove would appear, and my best friend, Mira, was already waiting for me by the front door. Her Avani clan clothing shimmered with iridescence. I grabbed her hand as my guards opened the wrought iron gate.
“We’re going to be late, again”, she said with a flick of her wrist.
“Well, let’s go”, I said annoyed.
“I’m not moving until I get an apology”, she said loudly as she turned away from me. The street hushed, eyes everywhere on us. I rolled my eyes. Mira’s dramatics had a way of turning a crowd.
“Mira, forgive me, but THIS, is a once in a lifetime event,” showing off my outfit, “and so is the Grove opening ceremony.”
Mira didn’t move.
“Mira, please”.
Nothing.
“Mira, for Orthud’s sake. Let’s go!” The words sank like lead in my stomach. Regret.
She flinched at the name.
“That is not an apology.” A smirk broke through her stoic posture, though her eyes narrowed.
“Avani don’t deserve apologies,” an Obsidian passerby spat having observed our conversation.
Mira went quiet, her shoulders stiff. I glared at the man and turned back to my friend. “Mira, I’m sorry. I know you hate being late. I disregarded that. It won’t happen again.”
She looked back at the man. “That was so satisfying to watch, Aisling.” She looked again, holding his gaze, and patted me on the head. His eyes widened. Then she took off at full sprint toward the city center. I bolted after her.
Mira’s graceful sprint made me look like I’d only just learned how to run. This wasn’t the first time I’d chased her through the city. I caught up to her in The Great Hall panting and fixing my hair. She tossed her curly hair a few times. It bounced back into place. Her face barely glistened in the sun light. I cursed, still flushed, frustrated with my hair. My pins were slipping again. The black slivers of obsidian glass glinted with red aura faintly in the sunlight.
Enchanted glass could withstand a blow from a hammer and hold magical aura, living light, but it could not hold my stubborn hair. Without a mirror, I stumbled blindly trying to style it again.
Mira reappeared. She’d doubled back to find me. We both knew the consequences of showing up a bit late were tolerable, but late and disheveled, was a line too far. Mira combed through my hair with her hands and shaped it so that it fell to the small of my back. She collected the pins for me.
“I’ll hold on to these for you.”
She held my hand as we walked through the gigantic arcade of the Great Hall. Between the arches were reliefs of the entire history of the Obsidian people. Mira never looked too long at the reliefs. I tried to name each scene as we walked. Mira’s pace quickened.
The order of each event had been hammered into me from school drills. The Great Founders. The Discovery of Obsidian, The Thousand-Year War. Nomen Delere, The Name Annihilation. At the center stood General Orthud Catenora, sword drawn, foot on a broken crown. He looked proud. Triumphant. I stopped. Mira continued a few steps. I lingered at the statue, a sense of pride welling as I viewed my ancestor.
“Aisling, please.” Mira urged me toward the light of the amphitheater refusing to look back. He meant something wholly different to her.
Mira and I took our places in my family’s booth. I looked to my mother. She checked the time, flared her nostrils, paused, then looked me up and down.
“You don’t have to run if you leave on time, Aisling.”
I cursed under my breath and looked at Mira.
“How does she always know?!” She mouthed.
“You’ve managed to properly style your hair with aura I see.” My mother smiled gently.
A chill flew down my spine. The non-complement from my mother meant forgiveness and that she appreciated Mira’s styling job. I hadn’t realized she’d imbued it with aura.
Mira and I exchanged concerned looks. We’d discuss later.
Queen Federica’s voice silenced the crowd. This time, it wasn’t a recording. Her magically amplified voice felt intimate, as if she’d just whispered in everyone’s ears simultaneously.
“We’ve gathered here on the eve of Obsidian’s Jubilee to choose the final keeper who will fulfill the prophecy the Grove gave us ten-thousand years ago on the day the Thousand-Year War ended. Today, we celebrate, for the Ascension is nigh. The new keeper, selected today, will be our final representative to walk the Grove and work…” she touched her extravagantly long fingernail to her lips. She paused.
Silence.
“…to mend and restore that which was lost in the Thousand-Year War.” We chanted in unison, save Mira.
Mira’s face was pleasant, but her eyes lit with aura. Surprised and worried, I took her hand again. I felt an energy I’d never experienced before; I felt the depth, intensity, and complexity of Mira’s emotions wash over me like getting caught in a sudden heavy rain.
“Witch. Tyrannical, genocidal imp.” I heard Mira’s voice in my mind, her lips a thin unbroken line. Wrathful energy surged. I gasped and Mira broke her gaze at Queen Federica. My eyes had begun to well. The aura in Mira’s eyes faded as her face softened. Her grip tightened to match mine.
Silence.
As soon as her grip tensed around my own, it was all gone. I felt hollowed.
Queen Federica gave a single clap. The air cracked. Magic rippled through the hall.
“And now, let us honor the Keeper who will usher us into our golden age. Scouts have reported the name inscribed on the Grove’s.” She paused for dramatic effect. “Our golden age keeper is… Aisling Catenora”.
My mother’s jaw dropped. Mira released my hand. I froze, unable to move.
My heart pounded louder until it was the only thing I could hear. I could hardly catch my breath. Every eye on me, save Mira’s.
Silence.