Lena paced the small space of her cottage, her mind racing. The air inside felt heavy, suffocating, and the walls seemed to be closing in. Her hands trembled as she ran them through her hair, the weight of everything pressing down on her chest. The prophecy. The leyline. The Morrigan bloodline.
But there was one question that gnawed at her more than anything else: Why did Rylan know so much about her?
He had been too calm, too prepared when he explained everything—like he had been expecting it, like he had known all along who she was. And that didn’t sit right with her. She needed answers.
Rylan sat near the fireplace, his back turned to her, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. The crackling of the flames filled the silence between them, but it only made the tension in the room more pal
