Ayaana’s POV
The prophecy had bound us all together, but bonds weren’t made in words. Bonds had to be earned, carved from trust, tested in battle, and watered with something most people feared to give: their hearts.
And mine?
Mine had always been hidden.
I kept my hands pressed tightly against the wound of the knight we had dragged back from the border. My magic flowed through him like roots searching for life in barren soil, warm and steady. The others stood around us, watching as golden light pulsed from my palms and stitched muscle, bone, and skin back together.
Healing is sacrifice. People think it’s simple—like pouring water from one glass to another. But the truth is every time I heal, I give a piece of myself away. A part of my soul and a fragment of my strength. If I give too
