Their Prophecy

It all started with a prophecy. A creature with gold eyes.   The bonded human who could not be controlled. The clash of elements, forging a weapon.   A child with incredible power.   A foretold apocalypse. There had been doubts, of course. Denials. Analise Thanisius was a small child with soft blonde curls framing her cherub-like face. Nothing about her was particularly threatening, not her easy smile, or the fact that she was often covered in dirt, prancing about the woods in the company of an aloof jaguar and giggling faerie.   But, as with many things in life, looks could be very deceiving. The first bounty hunter Analise ever killed tried to gun her down with a Blackhawk helicopter.   Despite her young physical body, Analise was more than just a Pureblood, something stronger and more capable—the weaponry shot at a slow enough pace that she could clearly see the trajectory of the ammunition and safely maneuver away from it. The pilot, probably having assumed that such a small child would be a quick takedown, hadn’t expected her to clear the distance from the ground to the helicopter in one swift motion. Nor had he had enough foresight to have a weapon at the ready inside of the aircraft to defend himself. Not that it would have made any difference.   As the helicopter plummeted from the sky, the small child had landed lithely in the grass, feeling the rumble of the ground beneath her bare feet.   The smell of fire was pungent in the air, a cloud of smoke rising into the sky.    It had been so abrupt, so simple. Glancing back over her shoulder with an easygoing smile, she’d found herself surrounded by adults who weren’t smiling back. Shocked expressions, unhinged jaws—her mother was hysterical when stumbled to Analise’s side, pulling the small child into a tight hug. “Are you okay?” she’d cried, patting her down, searching for any wounds. There were none. There were never any wounds. Not when that shifter attacked her during one of her afternoon swims in the river, or when the vampire cornered her in the woods. Not when the elf attempted to shoot her with an enchanted arrow or when a human refugee tried to set up a bomb underneath her bed. Never. “Ana.” Lying in the grass, staring up toward the sky, the child was sandwiched between the warm fur of a massive jaguar and the smooth skin of her link who had spoken up just now. “Do you feel fear?” It was an odd question, one that she hadn’t been expecting. “Should I be scared?” she’d wondered, turning to take in the expression of one of the people she trusted most in the entire world. There was a hesitation, then he ruffled her hair. “Never mind. It’s nothing.” She had known then, staring up at her link who had already closed his eyes, clearly avoiding her curious gaze, that it was not nothing. “Are you scared of something?” Young and naïve, she’d thought that someone might be foolish enough to threaten her link and, for just a glimmering second, she saw red. Pressing his calloused palm to her cheek, letting out a calming hum, Zechariah settled the storm raging inside of the child but, simultaneously, his subconscious gave her an upsetting answer: “You.”