Isla
The hearth fire crackled low, casting restless shadows that danced across Mrs. Hawthorne’s lined face. She still sat across from me, hands folded over a thick leather-bound book, its cover weathered by salt and age. Her silence was louder than thunder.
“What I saw in my vision…” I began, my voice trembling, “I can’t shake it.”
Mrs. Hawthorne looked at me. Slowly, she said, “Because it wasn’t just a dream, dear child. What you saw was truth—buried too long, but never gone.”
I swallowed hard. “I was her. Nahara. And he—Rael—he loved me.”
“Yes. And you loved him,” she said softly, almost reverently. “But remember, your love broke the veil that separates the divine from the mortal. And when Rael brought you back…”
She trailed off, her eyes drifting toward the fire.
“What happened t
