Each one alive in its own way. Each one undeniable proof of who I am and what I am meant to do.
I grip the basin, knuckles white, as if holding the stone will keep me from breaking apart.
This isn’t possible.
Only dragon-bonded bear Elemental tattoos. The tattoo appears on the rider’s skin when their connection to their Element is forged by their bond. It’s always been this way.
I am not a rider. I have no dragon. I have no bond. And yet . . . here they are.Four.
The ink glows faintly, alive under my skin. It should feel empowering.
Instead, I remember my mother’s hands—how they’d trace the freckles on my arms and call them “earth-salt.” She used to say the land left its blessings in our blood.
The memory hits like a breath I can’t catch. And just like that, the tattoos don’t feel like a gift. They feel like a mark of everything I’ve lost.
I squeeze my eyes shut, swallowing down the panic trying to rise. I have been fighting this. I have been trying to deny it, to explain it away. But the proof keeps coming.
Valen keeps telling me I have a choice but the truth is I don’t.
I amThe Spiritborn.
And there is no stopping what comes next.
STRIKE BY STRIKE
SEVEN
“Every day we learn something new that isn’t in any of my texts or journals, or even in old wives tales, about the Prophecy. We clearly have more than a weapon against the Shadow Forces in Amara. I believe she is a link to the past, to the future, to the forgotten and the yet to be learned. She will need all of our support with this burden, this ‘blessing’.
—VALEN’S JOURNAL
AMARA
Isit across from Lyra at breakfast, absently swirling my spoon in the bowl of porridge, but I’m not hungry. I can’t stop thinking about them.
The tattoos.
The glowing lines that had etched themselves into my skin last night.
Darius sits to my right. I catch him glancing at me from the corner of my eye, like he canseethe thoughts crawling under my skin. Across the table, Fenric and Taila are deep in a heated debate about which blade is better for close combat.
I exhale, try to roll the tension from my shoulders. I need to focus. I need toact normal.
But when I look up, Lyra is already watching me—eyebrows raised, mouth full of bread.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she says, after a swallow.
That’s enough to silence Fenric mid-argument. Taila leans in, brows furrowing.
I hesitate before setting my spoon down. My fingers twitch against the wooden table. “Something . . . happened last night.”
Lyra straightens. “Oh?”
Darius shifts beside me.
I glance around, suddenly aware of how many people are in the hall. Too many eyes and ears. I hesitate.
“It’s easier if I just show you guys,” I say quietly.
