“Are you fucking kidding me?” I grit out, and my hand goes to the blade at my hip instinctively.
Nehvara closes her eyes regretfully, “No. Whatever you have seen is incomplete, Sky,” she shakes her head, reaching into the leather satchel resting on the floor behind her.
“Here,” she pulls out a piece of parchment with small, neat handwriting and passes it over the fire.
Elyssara leans in, and we read it:
In the twenty-fifth summer beneath Lireal’s Eye,
The Lightborne shall rise where the Stars deny.
Bound to the Sky, yet free from the flame,
She carries the light—and an unspoken name.
Five keys await to unbind her light,
Where shadow and star must share the night.
Beneath the temple where fears take form,
The blade ignites and the veil is torn.
On starlit peaks where the heavens sigh,
The compass rests ‘neath the watcher’s eye.
In shadowed depths where roots entwine,
The crown reveals the path divine.
Her skin shall glow with threads of light,
Each relic found will burn more bright.
Piece by piece, the Lightborne wakes,
To bend the dark, the veil it breaks.
Where ruins burn and the Flame-heart sleeps,
The dragon stirs in the soul it keeps.
And in the skies where wild winds sing,
Beast and bond form a timeless ring.
The Lightborne and Sky must tread as one,
Their union unlocks what must be undone.
Vengeance shall blaze to balance the scales,
And justice shall rise where all else fails.
When relics awaken and powers combine,
The chains will fall, and the Stars shall align.
