CHAPTER 6
"Whispers of Prophecy, Shadows of Desire"
Beyond the dense trees, hidden from the world, stood a crumbling castle. Its jagged towers clawed at the sky, and through its shattered windows, firelight flickered, casting shadows across the ancient halls.
Inside, a heated discussion raged.
"We need to rescue Ava before that vermin of a king executes her," spat a woman with emerald-green hair and sharp gray eyes.
"But it's too risky," countered Sophia, the youngest of them, her red hair catching the firelight. "We are not as strong as we once were. If we strike now, we could lose everything."
"Too long have we hidden in the shadows!" the green-haired woman snapped, slamming her fist onto the table. "We once ruled kings and queens-now, we scurry like rats! I say no more!"
A murmur of agreement and dissent rippled through the room.
"Enough!"
The voice cut through the noise like a blade.
At the head of the table sat an elderly woman with silver hair and ruby-red eyes-the Sage Mother. She tapped her wooden staff against the stone floor, and silence fell.
"Sophia is right," she said, her voice measured. "We are not strong enough to wage war. We must think with our minds, not our hearts. Ava is our sister, but we cannot save her. The humans will never release her-our only mercy is to grant her a peaceful death."
A solemn hush settled over the room.
The Sage Mother turned to Mia, the second eldest among them. "Take this," she said, handing her a small vial of dark liquid. "Ensure she does not suffer."
Mia bowed, accepting the vial with trembling fingers. "I will, Sage Mother."
The old woman exhaled slowly, her gaze drifting toward the high-arched window, where the moon hung heavy in the sky. Then, her voice dropped to a whisper.
"I wish you were here, Abittah."
Just as the silence settled, another voice cut through the room.
"What about the prophecy?"
A ripple of unease spread among the gathered women.
"We should be focusing on finding the girl," the Sage Mother continued, her voice laced with something unreadable-fear, or perhaps hope.
"The girl with all power," someone whispered, and the room tensed.
A woman with jet-black hair and violet eyes stood. "Forgive me, Sage Mother, but centuries have passed since that prophecy was made. No sign has appeared-many of us believe it was a lie."
"Silence!"
The Sage Mother's voice cracked like thunder.
"The Oracle is never wrong!" she declared. "You have all forgotten our purpose. We are not witches who turned to darkness-we are the Sisterhood! And we will fulfill our sacred duty!"
The black-haired woman lowered her gaze, though her expression remained doubtful.
"You are all dismissed!"
The witches stood, offering a formal bow before leaving. Only Mia lingered.
"They're afraid," she murmured.
The Sage Mother sighed. "I know," she admitted. "And that frightens me more than anything."
Mia hesitated before asking, "Do you truly believe the prophecy is still real?"
The Sage Mother met her gaze.
"I know it is."
She turned back toward the window, eyes locked on the moonlit horizon, her mind drifting to the unknown girl-the one who would change everything.
At the Palace
"I'm going to miss you, Father," Alissa said, her voice thick with emotion as she clung to King Mathias's hand.
"It's only for a few days, my love. I will be back before you know it." The king smiled warmly, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
"That's enough, Alissa," Prince Alistair said, arms crossed but eyes soft. "I'm here with you."
Alissa sighed but reluctantly released her father's hand.
"I have something important to tell you when you come back!" she said, her face lighting up with excitement.
A knight approached. "Sire, the carriage is ready," Grendy announced.
King Mathias nodded and turned to his children one last time, offering them a gentle smile. "Be good," he said before stepping into the carriage.
Grendy was about to follow when he spotted his son approaching, holding a folded piece of cloth.
"Mother asked me to give this to you," the young man said, handing it over.
Grendy took it, hesitating.
As his son turned to leave, he paused, then glanced back. "Take care of your mind, Father."
Grendy's expression softened-and, for once, he smiled.
Then, the carriage doors shut, and they disappeared into the horizon.
Alissa and Alistair stood watching as the carriage faded from view.
"Brother, can I go to Adam's place?" Alissa finally asked.
Alistair studied her for a moment before sighing. "Fine. But you take a guard with you, and you're home before dusk."
Alissa grinned and placed her hand over her heart as if making a solemn vow. "I promise!"
"Alright, go," he said with a chuckle, watching as she practically ran off.
As he turned to head inside, something caught his eye-a flicker of movement.
Elias.
One of the palace knights, moving too discreetly.
Alistair hesitated before following him, keeping to the shadows.
He trailed Elias down a quiet corridor, but as soon as he stepped into an empty room-he was caught.
A firm hand grabbed his arm, spinning him around and slamming him against the wall. Before he could react, Elias was right there-too close, his body pressing against Alistair's.
Hazel eyes met his, filled with heat and hunger.
"You shouldn't look at me like that," Alistair murmured, his voice a mix of frustration and desire.
Elias smirked, even as his heart pounded. "Like what?" he whispered.
"Like I belong to you."
Elias let out a slow breath, his lips curling slightly.
"But you do."
Elias exhaled sharply, his restraint snapping.
In an instant, his lips crashed against the prince's.
Alistair let himself be consumed, his hands gripping Elias's tunic, pulling him closer. The force of the kiss pressed him harder against the wall, the cold stone biting his back, a stark contrast to the fire spreading through him.
Elias's hands roamed, one fisting in Alistair's tunic, the other gripping his hip with bruising strength.
The prince gasped against his mouth, and Elias swallowed the sound, deepening the kiss, claiming him with a desperation neither of them would ever voice.
Not for the first time, they let duty slip away.
Not for the first time, they gave in.
But then, too soon, the heat broke.
Alistair pushed against Elias's chest, breathless, eyes wild with something he couldn't name.
"We can't," he murmured.
Elias's hands lingered on his waist, his forehead pressed against Alistair's. "You don't mean that."
Alistair closed his eyes, savoring the warmth of Elias's breath against his skin. But when he opened them again, his expression was unreadable.
"This will ruin you," he whispered. "Ruin both of us."
Elias swallowed hard, his grip tightening. "Then let it."
Alistair hesitated, his fingers ghosting over Elias's wrist.
Then, with a sharp inhale, he pulled away.
The loss of warmth was immediate, and Elias almost reached for him again-but Alistair was already turning, already stepping toward the door.
Without another word, he left.
The door shut behind him, and Elias stood there, alone in the dim candlelight, his pulse still racing.
He clenched his fists, letting out a slow, shaky breath.
Alistair could run.
But Elias would never stop chasing.