Chapter 4 – The Prophecy Girl
1205 Words
Arielle’s POV
I didn’t know what to say.
Not when the words "You're a prophecy" were still echoing in the room like thunder that hadn’t finished striking.
I stared at Dario, my pulse thrashing like a wild animal in my throat. His face was unreadable, carved from marble and shadows. But his eyes his eyes weren’t empty anymore.
They were afraid.
Not of me, but of what I meant.
“I’m not,” I whispered.
“You are,” he said without hesitation. “And we’re already too deep in to undo it.”
My breath caught. “Undo what?”
“The bloodline recognizes you,” Maddox answered before Dario could. “Which means others will, too. If they haven’t already.”
“You’re talking in riddles,” I snapped. “What exactly is going on?”
Dario turned his back to me, jaw clenched. The window behind him showed the edge of the forest, where the wind was starting to howl like something ancient stirred beneath it.
“You were never supposed to activate the seal so early,” he said. “You should’ve been locked away, watched, controlled until—”
“Until what?!” I cut in. “Until I withered? Until you figured out how to drain whatever power I have and use it for yourself?”
He turned around, fast.
“I rejected you to protect this pack,” he growled, voice razor-sharp. “To protect myself. Because mating you meant binding to something no one could predict.”
“Oh, please,” I spat. “You didn’t reject me out of mercy. You rejected me because I didn’t fit the mold.”
Something flickered across his face—guilt, maybe. Or something deeper.
“I rejected you,” he said slowly, “because I saw what you were the moment you stepped on that stage. And I knew... if I kept you close, I’d lose control.”
Of me?
Or of himself?
He didn’t say.
Later that day, Vera led me out of the house again but not to the training yard.
No. We were going beneath it.
An old stairwell carved into stone spiraled down, torch-lit and damp, the air thick with magic that hummed like a warning in my blood.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“To the Archive,” she muttered. “You’re not the only one with a history written in fire.”
I followed her in silence, the echo of our footsteps swallowed by the stone. At the base of the stairs, an ancient door awaited twisted with runes and warding glyphs.
Vera placed her palm against the center, whispered something I couldn’t hear, and the door groaned open.
The Archive was a cavern.
Huge. Circular. Every wall lined with books, scrolls, and tablets that reeked of secrets.
“This place isn’t in the blueprints,” I murmured.
“Exactly,” she said. “Now follow me.”
She led me to a table in the center where an open book already waited. Its pages were thin as ash, marked in symbols I didn’t recognize until I did.
Because the second my eyes touched them, they rearranged. Shifted. Became legible.
My fingers trembled as I reached for the page.
Vera watched me with a cautious expression. “It’s responding to you.”
“The book?”
“No. The prophecy.”
I read aloud.
> She who bears the ember mark shall awaken the bound. She shall call them from fire and storm, from exile and grave. And through her, the war shall rise again.
I snapped the book shut, heart hammering.
“This is insane.”
“It’s not,” Vera said gently. “You’re the first to bear the mark in over two hundred years. And even then, they thought it was legend.”
“I don’t want any of this.”
She gave a sad smile. “No one ever does.”
Back in my room, I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the mark in the mirror again.
It was glowing.
Brighter now.
A living thing stitched into my skin.
A reminder that I couldn’t go back to who I was before.
Night brought storms.
Thunder cracked overhead like the sky itself was splitting in two. I couldn’t sleep again.
So I got up.
Slipped into the hallway. Wandered.
Something tugged me. Not physically. Not mentally.
Magically.
I followed it through the compound’s stone halls, deeper into the eastern wing. Doors blurred past me. Then one pulsed with energy.
I opened it without thinking.
Inside was a chamber.
Small,dust-covered. Lit only by the storm’s lightning flashing through a single window. There were symbols on the floor. Old bones. A cracked blade resting on an altar.
And a figure.
Not Dario.
Not Maddox.
Someone else.
He turned.
Younger,lithe,eyes the color of thunderclouds. His hair curled wild around his face. And when he looked at me—
He dropped to one knee.
“I’ve waited a long time for you,” he whispered.
“What the hell?”
“My name is Corwin. I serve the First Flame. I was bound to the old vow. And your mark woke me.”
I stumbled back. “You’re one of the bound?”
“Yes.”
And then his eyes flickered.
Silver, glowing, Inhuman.
“I’m not the only one coming.”
I ran back to Dario’s quarters without thinking, breath ragged.
I didn’t knock. I shoved the door open.
He was already up, dressed in black, leaning against the wall like he’d been expecting me.
“They’re waking up,” I gasped. “Others. At least one just found me.”
“I know,” he said. “I felt it.”
“You what?”
He lifted his hand, showing his wrist.
A faint line of light pulsed beneath his skin.
“The bond may be severed, Arielle. But it’s not dead.”
I froze.
He stepped forward.
“Everything’s moving now. Too fast. Faster than I planned.”
I stared at him. “Planned?”
He hesitated.
Then “You think I bought you at the auction by accident?”
My blood ran cold.
“You think I didn’t know what you were?”
“You said—”
“I lied,” he cut in. “Because if I didn’t claim you, someone worse would’ve. Someone who’d have no interest in keeping you alive.”
My chest rose and fell in ragged breaths.
“So what now?” I asked. “You keep me like a relic? A weapon you’re scared of but won’t let go?”
“No,” he said.
Then his hand reached out, brushed my cheek, and I was too shocked to move.
“I keep you alive.”
I stared at him.
“And when the others come,” he said, voice low and full of something close to reverence, “I’ll be the only one who can protect you.”
But I wasn’t sure I wanted protection from someone who could lie so easily.
And I wasn’t sure I wanted protection at all.
Because maybe… just maybe…
It was time to stop running.
And start becoming.
- Writer
