Page 54 of Property of Prophet

Now I am simply... a man.

My wings are gone.

The light that had lived beneath my skin for millennia has vanished, leaving silver threaded through my hair and an ache in my bones every time the Alaskan cold creeps beneath my coat.

Lily glances up from the rifle she’s been cleaning near the fire. “You’ve been staring out that window for an hour.”

“Have I?”

“You’re wearing a path in the floor.”

“I’ll replace the boards.”

“That wasn’t my concern.”

I look at her, and she holds my gaze for a moment. “They’re coming.”

“I know.”

“Then why do you look ready to throw up?”

“I don’t.”

“Prophet.”

“I’m thinking.”

“That’s usually dangerous.” I turn back to the window because she’s right. I’m fucking terrified. I’ve spent millennia standing between monsters and the people they hunted. I know vigilance, and this isn’t vigilance.

It’s fear.

I’m afraid my brothers will walk through those trees, look at what Heaven left behind, and see a stranger wearing Prophet’s face.

“They’re close.” The words leave my mouth before I realize I’ve spoken.

Lily looks at me. “You can feel them?”

I shake my head. “No.”

Not the way I used to.

Once I’d have known exactly where Blade was, which ridge Ranger was crossing, and whether Fury was already impatient or Rooster had managed to irritate everyone before they reached the mountain.

That connection had existed for so long I’d stopped noticing it was there. Now I fucking notice.

Movement catches my eye.

At first, it’s nothing more than a shadow slipping between snow-laden pines, so perfectly camouflaged I almost convince myself I’ve imagined it. Then the shadow moves again—Ranger.

Even in wolf form, there’s nothing uncertain about him. He doesn’t run. He doesn’t rush. He simply claims the mountain one measured stride at a time, his enormous body gliding through knee-deep snow as though gravity has decided it doesn’t apply to him.

Lily follows my gaze.

“That’s...”

“Ranger.”

“He’s huge.”