Jasmine's days passed in a blur of growth that seemed accelerated beyond normal human development. Within weeks, her infant limbs strengthened enough for her to sit upright. By the second month, she could crawl, and shortly after, stand with assistance. Her mind developed even faster, absorbing the strange language of Aethoria through the soul-bond with Lyra, who spent hours beside her cradle, speaking in hushed tones about the world they inhabited.
"The Shadowbound were once like us," Lyra whispered one evening, her small fingers intertwined with Jasmine's. "But they chose darkness over light, chaos over harmony. They believe the veil between worlds should be torn down completely."
Through their connection, Jasmine saw glimpses of these beings—twisted forms with eyes like black holes, moving through shadow as if it were water. The images sent a chill through her that no blanket could warm.
By her fourth month, Jasmine spoke her first word—not the typical "mama" or "dada" but "prophecy." The word fell from her lips with perfect clarity, startling Belga who had been changing her swaddling cloth.
"Gaelen!" Belga called, her melodic voice tinged with alarm. "She speaks!"
Her father appeared in a shimmer of blue light, a form of instantaneous travel that still amazed Jasmine despite all she had witnessed. His eyes widened as Jasmine repeated the word, her infant voice unnaturally articulate.
"The acceleration continues," he murmured, running a hand through his star-flecked hair. "The Council was right to be concerned."
That evening, as moons of different sizes and colors rose in the Aethorian sky, creating a kaleidoscope of light across the landscape, Jasmine heard her parents arguing in hushed tones.
"They're coming tomorrow," Gaelen said, his voice tense. "The entire High Council. Even the Ancient Ones will attend."
"She's still too young," Belga protested. "Barely a season old by our reckoning."
"But her mind is far older," Gaelen countered. "You've seen how quickly she develops. The soul-binding with Lyra has only accelerated the process."
"And what of the Shadowbound? Saryx's agents have been spotted near the eastern boundaries. If they learn of her..."
"They already suspect," Gaelen said grimly. "Our watchers report increased activity in the void spaces. They sense something has changed in the balance."
Jasmine felt a flicker of fear. Who was Saryx? And why would these Shadowbound be interested in her? Through the soul-bond, she felt Lyra's consciousness stir, awakened by her distress.
"Don't be afraid," Lyra's thoughts whispered directly into her mind. "I won't let them take you."
The next morning, Jasmine was dressed in flowing silver robes, tiny garments that seemed to shift and move with her emotions. Belga brushed her daughter's hair, which had grown remarkably fast and now reached her shoulders, the strands shifting between midnight black (a reminder of her human life) and a deep blue that matched her father's.
"The Council will ask you questions," Belga explained gently. "They may seem frightening, but remember that you are safe. You are our daughter, and we will protect you."
Jasmine wanted to tell her new mother that she had faced far worse than intimidating council members in her previous life, but her developing vocal cords couldn't yet form such complex sentences. Instead, she sent a wave of reassurance through the bond to Lyra, who stood nearby in formal attire of her own.
"I'm not afraid," Jasmine projected. "But I want to understand why I'm here."
Lyra nodded, her young face solemn. "The prophecy speaks of balance restored by one who has lived in shadow and light. The Council believes that's you."
The journey to the Council chambers was Jasmine's first venture beyond the family's dwelling. Gaelen carried her in his arms as they traversed crystalline pathways that hummed with energy beneath their feet. The architecture of Aethoria defied human physics—buildings that seemed to float without support, bridges made of light that solidified under their steps, and everywhere, beings of extraordinary beauty going about their daily lives.
Some stopped to stare at the infant in Gaelen's arms, their expressions ranging from curiosity to apprehension. Jasmine felt their gazes like physical touches, probing at the edges of her consciousness.
"They sense your human soul," Lyra explained through their bond. "It's different from ours—denser, more complex in some ways."
The Council chamber was a vast circular room within the tallest crystal spire. Twelve thrones arranged in a perfect circle dominated the space, each carved from a different material that seemed to represent an element or force. Some were familiar—fire, water, earth—while others were concepts Jasmine couldn't yet comprehend, like "void" and "possibility."
Nine of the thrones were occupied by beings similar to Belga and Gaelen in their ethereal beauty, though each had distinctive features that marked their domain. The fire councilor's hair flickered like actual flames; the water councilor seemed partially translucent, her form flowing like a living stream.
But it was the three Ancient Ones that drew Jasmine's attention. They occupied thrones of pure light, their forms barely corporeal—more suggestion than substance, with eyes that contained entire universes.
"Gaelen, Belga," spoke the central Ancient One, her voice resonating directly in Jasmine's mind rather than through the air. "You bring before us the twice-born child."
Gaelen stepped forward, holding Jasmine so the Council could see her clearly. "Yes, Honored Elders this child is the fulfillment of the ancient writings," the central Ancient One continued, her form shimmering with light so intense that Jasmine felt her eyes water. "A soul that has known profound suffering, yet carries within it an undiminished capacity for love."
The Ancient One to the right leaned forward, his nebulous form condensing slightly to examine Jasmine more closely. "Show us, little one. Open your mind to us."
Before Jasmine could wonder how to comply, she felt a gentle pressure against her consciousness—like fingers softly parting curtains. Instinctively, she resisted, her human memories of violation and fear causing her to recoil.
"She shields herself," remarked the third Ancient One, a note of surprise in their ethereal voice. "Extraordinary for one so young."
"It is her past life," Belga explained, stepping forward protectively. "She has known betrayal at the hands of those who should have protected her."
The central Ancient One nodded, her form rippling with understanding. "Then we shall approach differently. Lyra, child of starlight, you share a soul-bond with this one. Will you serve as our bridge?"
Lyra stepped forward, her small hand finding Jasmine's. "I will, Honored Elder."
Through their connection, Jasmine felt Lyra's gentle reassurance. "They need to see your past to understand why you were chosen. I'll be with you the whole time. Nothing can hurt you here."
Taking a deep breath, Jasmine nodded her consent.
What followed was unlike anything she had experienced. Through Lyra's mediation, the Council entered Jasmine's memories—not as invasive observers, but as gentle witnesses. Together, they walked through the corridors of her past life.
They saw her childhood home, the darkness that seeped from her father's grief into every corner. They felt the weight of responsibility as she protected her sisters, Lila and Mei. They witnessed the bullying she endured, her desperate fight for dignity, the accident that claimed her life, and her final, fateful attempt at revenge.
As each memory unfolded, Jasmine experienced them anew, yet differently. Viewed through the Council's ancient wisdom, she began to see patterns she had missed—moments where darkness could have claimed her but didn't, instances where her love for her sisters transcended her circumstances.
"Do you see now?" asked the fire councilor, his voice crackling with emotion. "The balance within her?"
The water councilor nodded, ripples of understanding flowing across her translucent features. "She stood at the precipice between vengeance and justice, between hatred and love. Few souls maintain such equilibrium when tested so severely."
"But there is more," the central Ancient One said, her voice deepening. "Show us what happened at the moment of transition, child."
Jasmine hesitated, realizing that this was the part of her journey she didn't fully understand. What happened between her mortal death and her rebirth in Aethoria. Through Lyra's connection, she projected the memory—the weightless drift through blinding light, the sensation of being drawn across some vast, incomprehensible distance.
But there was something else, something she hadn't fully processed until this moment. In that in-between space, she had not been alone. Presences had surrounded her, guiding her journey—not random spirits, but purposeful entities.
"The Watchers," gasped the earth councilor, his voice rumbling like distant mountains. "They intervened directly."
A murmur ran through the Council, expressions of astonishment on every face. Even the Ancient Ones seemed surprised, their luminous forms pulsating with heightened energy.
"This changes our understanding," the central Ancient One said. "The Watchers have not directly guided a soul across the veil in ten thousand years."
"What does it mean?" Belga asked, her hand protectively touching Jasmine's head.
The rightmost Ancient One drifted forward, their form condensing into something more substantial—a figure of silver light with features that reminded Jasmine of an elderly human, wise and weathered.
"It means that the twice-born child is not merely important to Aethoria," they said gravely. "She is vital to the balance of all realms, including the human world she left behind."
"The prophecy speaks of 'threads rejoined,'" added the void councilor, their voice echoing as if from a great distance. "Perhaps it refers not just to the balance between our realm and the Shadowlands, but to Earth as well."
Jasmine felt a surge of emotion at the mention of Earth. Despite the wonders of Aethoria, part of her still longed for the world she had known—not for its pain, but for its familiarity, and for the sisters she had left behind.
"Her sisters," Lyra suddenly spoke, her young voice clear in the vast chamber. "I see them in her memories. They died in her world, but souls don't truly end."
The Council members exchanged significant glances. "The threads rejoined," repeated the possibility councilor, her form shifting through countless potential shapes. "Could it be?"
The central Ancient One rose from her throne, floating toward Jasmine. Up close, her form was even more magnificent—a being composed of light and thought, ancient beyond human comprehension.
"Child of two worlds," she addressed Jasmine directly, "your coming was foretold, but even we did not understand the full implications. The sisters you lost—their souls were not extinguished. They were transformed."
Jasmine's heart raced with sudden hope and confusion. Through Lyra's bond, she projected her question: "Where are they?"
The Ancient One's form pulsed with what might have been a smile. "Closer than you think. The Watchers did not bring only your soul across the veil."