Chapter 24

Aria’s heart clenched as Rollan vanished into the golden mist, his tiny form swallowed by the archway’s radiant light. She lunged forward instinctively, her breath catching in her throat, but Caden’s firm hand caught her wrist, holding her back with a strength that was both reassuring and maddening. “We can’t,” he said, his voice tight with restrained emotion. “The seer said he has to face it alone.”

Tears stung Aria’s eyes, blurring her vision as she stared at the shimmering archway. “He’s just a baby, Caden. What if he’s scared? What if he needs us?” Her voice trembled, each word laced with a mother’s desperate fear.

Caden’s grip softened, his thumb brushing her skin in a comforting gesture. “He’s stronger than we know. Like us. We have to trust the prophecy—and him.” His tone was steady, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of doubt, mirroring the turmoil in her chest.

Aria swallowed hard, nodding reluctantly, though every maternal instinct screamed to tear through the mist and pull her son back to safety. The glade around them was unnaturally silent, the seer’s hooded figure watching impassively from her dais. Torren and the other warriors stood tense, their eyes darting to the surrounding trees as if sensing an unseen threat lurking in the shadows.

Inside the golden archway, Rollan floated in a realm beyond the physical, a space where light and shadow intertwined in a mesmerizing dance. Images swirled around him—wolves running under a blood moon, their howls echoing through the void; a child standing atop a mountain, crowned in flames that neither burned nor flickered; a river of stars flowing through an endless night. Rollan giggled, his tiny hands reaching for the flickering shapes, his mark—a crescent etched on his chest—glowing brighter with each touch, as if drawing power from the visions themselves. The air thrummed with energy, and though he couldn’t speak, his coos carried a strange, knowing melody.

Back in the glade, Aria paced restlessly, her hands trembling with pent-up anxiety. “I can’t just stand here,” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. “What if something’s wrong? What if he’s in pain?” She stopped, pressing her palms to her temples, trying to quell the rising panic.

Caden stepped in front of her, his hands cupping her face gently, forcing her to meet his gaze. “He’s our son. He’ll make it through this. We have to believe that.” His hazel eyes held hers, offering an anchor amidst the storm of her fears.

“I know,” she whispered, leaning into his touch, drawing strength from his warmth. “It’s just… he’s so small.” Her voice broke, and she bit her lip to steady herself.

A sudden rustle in the bushes shattered their fragile moment. Torren drew his sword with a sharp hiss, but it was too late—a cloaked figure burst from the trees, dagger flashing in the dim light. “For Victor!” the loyalist screamed, lunging directly at Aria with murderous intent.

Caden reacted instantly, shoving Aria aside and meeting the attacker with a swift, brutal strike. The loyalist’s dagger clattered to the ground, blood pooling beneath him, but more figures poured from the shadows, their eyes wild with fanaticism. The warriors sprang into action, steel ringing through the glade as they clashed with the ambushers in a chaotic melee.

Aria scrambled to her feet, her dagger gripped tightly in her hand. A sharp pain seared her side, and she gasped, looking down to see a shallow cut from the loyalist’s blade. Blood welled, staining her tunic, but she ignored it, her focus narrowing to the fight. Caden dispatched another attacker, his face a mask of cold fury. “Stay back,” he ordered, stepping forward to shield her.

The seer’s voice cut through the chaos, calm and commanding despite the violence. “The child’s trial nears its end. Prepare yourselves for what comes next.”

Aria’s head snapped to the archway, where the golden light pulsed with increasing intensity. Rollan’s giggles had shifted to a soft, melodic hum that seemed to resonate with the earth itself. The mist began to part, and he floated out, his mark now glowing with a steady, golden light that pulsed in time with his heartbeat. Aria rushed to him, scooping him into her arms and holding him close. “You’re safe,” she whispered, tears streaming down her face as she kissed his forehead, inhaling his familiar scent.

Caden joined them, his hand resting on Rollan’s head, his touch gentle despite the tension in his frame. “What happened in there?” he asked, his voice hushed with awe as he studied the golden glow.

The seer stepped forward, her hood falling back to reveal ancient, knowing eyes that gleamed with a mix of wisdom and sorrow. “The child has chosen his path,” she intoned, her voice carrying the weight of centuries. “But beware—the loyalists will not rest until they claim him for their own dark purposes.”

As if on cue, a horn sounded in the distance, its mournful wail echoing through the mountains. It was followed by the unmistakable thunder of hooves—dozens, perhaps hundreds, approaching fast. Torren’s face paled, his sword still slick with blood. “They’re coming,” he said, his voice grim. “We need to move, now.”

Caden nodded, his expression hardening as he assessed their dwindling options. “We head deeper into the mountains. The seer’s sanctuary might offer protection, at least for a time.”

Aria clutched Rollan tighter, her heart racing with a mix of fear and determination. The prophecy’s weight pressed down on her, a burden she’d carried since the curse first bound them, but so did a fierce, unyielding resolve. They would protect their son, no matter the cost, no matter the odds stacked against them.

The seer’s voice rang out once more, a final warning as the wind began to howl. “The path ahead is fraught with peril, but it is the only way. Trust in each other, and in the strength of your bond.”

With that, the seer vanished into the mist, leaving them alone in the glade. The horn sounded again, closer this time, and Caden took Aria’s hand, his grip firm and reassuring. “Let’s go,” he said, pulling her toward the tree line.

They fled into the mountains, the loyalists’ pursuit a relentless shadow at their heels. The prophecy had set them on this treacherous path, but it was their love and determination that would see them through—or so Aria prayed, as the first arrows began to rain down from the cliffs above, whistling through the air like harbingers of doom.