My voice splinters.
“I just want to go home.”
A tear slips down my cheek. I feel it fall. And I hate that he—a complete stranger—sees it.
But Valen doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t rush to comfort. He just nods, once.
“No. You didn’t ask.” Then he meets my gaze—direct and unapologetic. “But they’re hunting you, Amara. And you need to understand why.”
My jaw tightens, fingers curling into fists beneath the blanket. The fury returns, sharp and clean.
“Then tell me.” The words crack like lightning. “Stop circling it. Stopdancing aroundwhatever this is and just say it.”
Valen holds still for a breath, then another. Then he nods.
“Very well.” His voice drops—low, deliberate, final. “You’re not what you’ve been told.”
A pause.
“You’re notonlyEarth Clan.”
He lets the words settle. But instead they cut.
“You’re something . . . older. Rarer.”
A cold shiver runs down my spine.
“You don’t even know me.” My voice is barely a whisper.
“No,” he admits. “But I know the prophecy.”
The world tilts.
I go still. “What prophecy?”
“The oldest records speak of a time when the Shadow Forces would rise beyond containment. When the darkness would spread faster than light could hold it back. A time when the wards would fail . . . and the realm would begin to fall.” His gaze sharpens, burning into mine. “And they speak of one who will rise to meet it. One with the power to turn the tide.”
I shake my head, breath caught somewhere in my throat. “No.”
It comes out like a prayer. Or a plea.
But Valen doesn’t stop.
“The texts don’t name her,” he continues. “Not directly. The Spiritborn is never written by name. Perhaps deliberately, perhaps to protect her.” His voice lowers, more solemn now. “But they say she will wield what was lost. That she alone will hold the power to challenge the darkness.”
I force out a shaky laugh, but it comes out brittle—hollow. “That doesn’t mean anything.”
“Toyou? Not yet.” Valen’s voice stays calm, but something coils beneath it—low and thrumming. It makes my skin prickle. “But to the Shadeheart? It means everything.”
I clutch the blanket tighter around me, my knuckles white. “You’re wrong.”
“I would rather be.” Valen leans forward slightly. “But the Shadeheart believes the prophecy is true. And shealsobelieves it speaks of you.”
Gooseflesh prickles across my skin.
“That’s not—” I stop. I can’t even finish the sentence.
“Isn’t it?” he says softly. “They came foryou, Amara. Not your village. But they are Shadow Forces so they destroy everything in their path. That attack wasn’t by chance.”
