"That's not possible," Seraphina whispers, struggling to sit up despite her injuries.
"Apparently, no one told him that," Emmett observes dryly.
With Asher's soul contained, I turn my attention back to the mess that was Cade's body. With a casual gesture, my shadows completely engulf the remains, dissolving them into nothingness.
Looking at Seraphina's pain cuts through my bloodlust like a blade through silk. The beast in me, sated by Asher's suffering, finally allows room for something gentler to surface.
"Are you able to talk?" I ask, my Alpha voice lowering to something gentler.
She nods weakly, clutching my arm with surprising strength. "There's something you need to know. Before I lose consciousness—Asher told me about a prophecy. If something happens to me, you need to understand what this was really about."
I kneel beside her, close enough to support her if needed. "What is it?"
"Asher told me Cade was placed in your court as a spy. He was watching you long before I arrived."
My shadows coil tighter. "A spy for whom?"
"The Shadow Council, according to him." Her eyes meet mine, something uncertain flickering in their golden depths. "He said they knew about a prophecy. Something about shadow and light uniting."
The pieces begin to fall into place—how Cade came so highly recommended, why I assigned him to Seraphina without question, his constant presence that never felt suspicious until now.
"What else did he tell you?"
She looks away, pain crossing her features that has nothing to do with her physical injuries. "He said my father arranged everything. The incident with Ivy, the blood debt, our marriage. He said it was all orchestrated to fulfill the prophecy."
The implications crash through me. If what she's saying is true, then our entire union was manipulated from the start.
"The prophecy. What exactly did it say?"
"'When shadow and light join in blood, the ancient divide shall heal. Two courts become one throne, when enemies become lovers, when hatred turns to something deeper.'"
These words resonate with something ancient inside me.
"There's more," she continues. "It speaks of a child born of both worlds who will heal the rift between shadow and light."
Relief cuts through my tension. "Then this prophecy is nothing but ancient fantasy," I say, forcing dismissiveness into my voice. "Light and shadow cannot create life together—the magical polarities prevent it. Everyone knows this. It's been tried countless times throughout history. The conception simply... doesn't take."
But even as I say the words, doubt gnaws at me. A fated mate bond is different. Rare. Unpredictable. And Seraphina's light magic has already done impossible things—healing my curse-fever, blending with my shadows in ways that should be forbidden.
What if the prophecy knows something the histories don't?
A child. Our child.
The thought shouldn't terrify me—I just said it's impossible. But the prophecy speaks of a being that's neither Alpha nor Omega alone—something new, something unprecedented. A twilight child. And the thought of Seraphina's Omega body carrying that child, of the shadow poison inside me destabilizing the way it did when Julia was pregnant—my shadows lashing out, my control shattering, driving her to take her own life to save me—makes my shadows falter with a fear I haven't felt in two hundred years.
For the first time in centuries, I feel this cold, unfamiliar fear that wraps around my spine and squeezes. A child of my blood. A child who would be vulnerable, who could be used against me. Another loss I couldn't bear.
I spent centuries cultivating power, building walls, ensuring no one can ever again have that kind of hold over me. And now this prophecy speaks of a child—my greatest vulnerability walking in flesh and blood.
My shadows flicker and dim around me. Through our completed bond, I feel Seraphina's surprise at the fear she senses from me.
"And you believe this?" I ask carefully, my Alpha voice betraying none of my inner turmoil even as our bond reveals everything.
"I don't know what to believe anymore." Her voice breaks slightly. "Everyone has lied to me."
Something protective surges through me at her vulnerability, pushing back against the unfamiliar fear. Without thinking, I reach out to touch her cheek, my thumb gently brushing away a tear. My Alpha scent shifts—from rage to protective.
"Then we'll discover the truth together," I say, surprising even myself. "And make those who manipulated us pay dearly for their games."
