EMMALINE
The room feels smaller than it did a moment ago.
Davina’s words are still hanging in the air — the prophecy of the blood that saves and destroys — and I can feel them settling on my skin like something physical. Like weight. Like the beginning of a trap closing.
“What prophecy?” My voice comes out hoarse, cracked at the edges. “What are you talking about?”
Davina doesn’t answer immediately. She looks at me the way people look at things they pity but cannot help. When she finally speaks, the words come slowly, like she’s pulling them up from somewhere deep.
“A child born from blood tainted by both light and shadow,” she says. “One whose existence holds the power to either restore the realms — or destroy them entirely.” Her eyes find mine and hold them. “Her bloodline matches t
