Fated Mate

Prophecies

For the first day of her seven, Emily dwelled on everything that had led her to this moment.

Alone she sat by the creek, where weeks ago Victor had discovered her, and she watched the water rush, ever rolling forward, never backward. Her life felt like that stream-always in motion, never able to go back to who she was, never certain of where she was going.

She thought about her childhood, those short months before the prophecy had spoiled everything. She hummed her mother's lullabies, which were soft and sweet in the dark. The comfort of home before she'd ever been exiled.

And then I was alone for years. The whispers. The fear in her parents' eyes. She peeked across the path to see how indicator clan members moved away from her. I'd internalized all of it, making me think that I really was cursed, and my very being brought disaster.

But here, in Woodland Territory, no one fled from her. They were wary, sure, but never barbaric. Sara sought out her company. Victor treated her with respect. Sarah gave her meaningful work.

Arthur found something in her that she couldn't find within herself.

"You've been out here for hours."

Emily looked up as Arthur came nearer, two wooden cups in his hands. He sat down next to her and gave her one. Warm and fragrant with herbs, the substance of which lay inside the bottle.

"Just thinking," said Emily, taking the cup gratefully in her hands.

"About leaving?"

"About staying." She took a sip. The tea was calming, with a touch of honey. "About why it's so difficult to believe that I deserve to."

Arthur was silent for a moment, gazing at the water. "When I was young, my father told me something I have never forgotten. He said the hardest prison to break out from is the one that we bar ourselves in within our own mind."

Emily glanced at him. "What did he mean?"

"'We become our own cells.' We cage ourselves with thoughts of unworthiness, with identities of who we are that were shaped by people who never really saw us." Arthur met her eyes. "You've been told you've been cursed for so long you've come to accept it as truth. But what if it never was?"

"The prophecy-"

"What if the prophecy was misread? What if your priest looked at just part of the whole truth?"

Arthur moved closer. "Emily, you saved someone with your touch. You have fire that answers your will. Those aren't curses. Those are gifts."

Emily wanted to believe him. But years of denial can't be reversed in days. "I talked with Eleanor, " Arthur said after a pause.

Emily's head snapped towards him. "The witch ?"

"Yes. She has agreed to meet with us. To help you understand your powers." He stopped. "It'll be a two-day trip." We would be leaving at daybreak."

Fear and hope fought right over Emily's heartstrings. "Will she... will she think I'm a monster?"

Arthur's face softened. "Eleanor doesn't judge. She knows magic in a way most of us don't. If anyone can help you, it's her."

Emily turned back to the stream as she watched light play with ripples. Two days with Arthur, traveling to meet a witch that might have answers. She was terrified. But not knowing what her power was terrified her more.

"Okay," she whispered. "I'll go."

-

They left at dawn the following day. Victor had insisted that they should take guards, but Arthur maintained it would be only the two of them. "Eleanor doesn't do well with crowds," he'd said.

Emily packed a small bundle of provisions-jerky, bread, a waterskin, and a fresh set of garments. Arthur went in front, traveling through the woods as if they were old friends.

For the first several hours, they said nothing. The dawning sun shone through slats in the leaves overhead, illuminating everything in a wash of golden-green. Birds chattered to one another as I looked up, and a distant stream hummed from an unseen direction.

"Tell me about Eleanor," Emily finally said. "How do you know her?"

Arthur smiled weakly. "My sister, Claire, became very ill when she was twelve. No healer could cure her-the fever wouldn't break and she was dying. My father was desperate."

He ducked under a low branch. "Someone told him about Eleanor, a witch in the Ashen Woods, who lived far in the deep. Most people said she was dangerous, that going to her for help was crazy. But my father had no other choice."

"What happened?"

"He went to her. Carried Claire on his back because she was unable to walk. Eleanor glanced at my sister and immediately knew what was wrong-a spider's bite had introduced a rare poison into her bloodstream. She cooked up an antidote, and in a day, Claire was on the mend."

Emily took this in. "So she saved your sister's life."

"She did. And she refused payment. Healing a child was reward enough," he said- heal, I thought that's what I wanted to do since I was old enough to imagine healing." Arthur's face turned distant. "Claire was killed five years later in a raid by rogues. But those five years--they were a gift. Eleanor gave us that time."

"I'm sorry about your sister," Emily said softly.

Arthur nodded, jaw tight. "That's just how I lead. Why I don't stop believing in people. Claire Teach me that every life counts every single moment that's important. And I won't give up on you."

Emily's throat tightened with emotion. She reached out and held his hand. Arthur's fingers instantly closed round hers, warm and strong. They held hands as they walked until the ground became uneven and they had to use both hands to climb.

As night fell the forest transformed. The trees were taller and darker, their bark nearly black in the dim light. The air turned cooler and humid and smelled of ash and soil.

"The Ashen Woods," Arthur said. "Here we are almost at the end now."

Emily shivered, only she didn't know if it was because of the cold or because of what was to come. There was something disturbing about this place: a weight in the air, as if the forest itself was gazing upon them.

They stopped for the night in a tiny clearing. Arthur lit a fire as Emily laid out their gear. They dined in silence, with the only sound being the popping of the flames.

"Are you nervous?" Arthur asked eventually.

Emily thought about lying, but she didn't. "Yep. What if she can't help me? What if my gift is something bad, something that can't be fixin'?"

Arthur inched closer, his shoulder rubbing up against hers. "Then we'll figure it out together. You're not alone in this, Emily. No matter what Eleanor is going to tell you tomorrow, no matter what we find out-you'll still have me. You'll still have a home. "

Emily rested her head on his shoulder, winding up feeling artificial warmth... "Thank you," she whispered. "For believing in me when I can't believe in myself."

Arthur bended down and pressed a kiss on the crown of her head. "Always."

They'd been sitting that way for a long time, watching the fire die down to embers. When Emily at last drifted off to sleep, wrapped in a blanket with her head still pressed to Arthur's shoulder, her dreams were calm for the first time in weeks.

---

Daylight brought with it fog rolling in among the trees. Emily woke up to find Arthur already out of bed, breaking down their camp. He smiled when he saw her moving.

"Ready?"

Emily breathed in and nodded. "Ready ."

They hiked for another hour, and then the cottage came into view-a modest stone cottage nestled amid towering old trees, smoke trailing from its chimney. The garden was roughly-kept but obviously cared for, a swath of herbs and blooms Emily didn't know.

Arthur raps on the wooden door. After a moment, it opened.

The female who stood on the doorstep was not who Emily was anticipating. She was younger than Emily had thought - maybe in her forties - with silver-white hair flowing down her back and eyes the color of violets. She was dressed in a plain dark robe and there was an aura about her that made Emily's skin tingle with awareness.

Eleanor said, her voice melodious and knowing "Arthur Neville, It's been years."

"Eleanor." Arthur dipped his head reverently. "Thank you for seeing us."

Eleanor's piercing eyes landed on Emily and Emily felt as if she was being x-rayed - every secret, every fear exposed.

"And this," Eleanor said slowly, "is the girl who's been making all the trouble."

Emily bristled just a little but she kept quiet.

Eleanor smiled knowingly. "Come inside, child. We have a lot to talk about."