THE PROPHECY CHILD

CHAPTER 10: The Journey begins

The first light of dawn filtered softly through the trees, casting silver lines across the dim room. Clara sat upright, her eyes wide and restless. She hadn’t slept. Not a second. Her mind was a storm of questions—racing thoughts pounding against her skull like waves on rocks. Even wrapped in the comfort of the old woman’s hut, she felt no peace.

She stood and stepped quietly toward the crackling fire, hugging herself against the chill. Her fingers trembled as she touched the hem of her tunic. Was it fear? Anticipation? Or something stranger—something deeper?

A faint creak broke the silence. Clara turned swiftly.

"Good morning, dear," the old woman said, her voice calm and somehow knowing, stepping into the flickering light.

Clara gasped, nearly dropping the book she had been clutching. Her eyes were tired, her face drawn with worry. "Did you even sleep last night?" she asked, startled.

The old woman only smiled, the lines on her face deepening. "Sleep is a gift for those whose hearts are still," she replied, handing Clara a rolled parchment. "Take this. Your journey must begin—start from the right."

Clara hesitated as she took the map, her fingertips brushing the rough paper. It felt heavy, not in weight, but in meaning.

She swallowed, her voice uncertain. "That beast back there… was it you who stopped it?"

The old woman’s eyes turned distant. She exhaled slowly, then met Clara’s gaze. "No. That was you."

Clara blinked, her lips parting. "Me? I—I don’t understand."

"There is power inside you, Clara," the woman said gently. "You don’t know it yet, but I’ve seen it. You killed the beast. Not with rage, not with violence, but with will. You’re strong. Too strong to be ordinary."

Clara’s heart thudded in her chest.

The old woman continued, "I believe you are the child spoken of in the prophecy. But you mustn’t tell anyone—not yet. Don't use your magic until you understand it. If you fight now, you'll be destroyed before you even begin. Run. Learn. Grow."

Clara’s breath caught. Her throat felt tight. "But... how do I learn magic without a teacher?"

The old woman moved closer and rested a gnarled hand on Clara’s shoulder. "Magic comes from the mind first. Focus. Believe. Feel what you want to command. When you begin to trust the fire within you, it will answer."

"What is in you?" a sleepy voice mumbled.

They turned. Danielle was yawning, rubbing her eyes, her curly hair a tangled mess. Her voice was groggy but curious.

Clara blinked and tucked the map behind her back. "Nothing. We have to go."

She moved to Eric and gently nudged him. "Get up. We’re leaving."

Eric stirred, then sat up, his hair tousled. "Already?"

The old woman, without another word, handed Clara a cloth-wrapped bundle. Inside, food and a water flask. Clara nodded in thanks, her throat too full to speak.

The three stepped out into the forest as the morning sun began to stretch through the trees. Their path led to the right—a narrow trail barely wide enough for one. Mist hovered close to the ground, thick and silver like smoke, curling around their legs.

For a long time, they said nothing. The forest was unnaturally silent—no birdsong, no rustling, no chirping crickets. Just the crunch of dry leaves underfoot and the whisper of the wind.

Danielle glanced at Clara. "So... this map. Do you know where we’re going?"

Clara’s eyes stayed on the parchment in her hand. "No. But I think this is the only way forward."

Eric looked ahead, his jaw tight. "Whatever’s out there... we’re ready."

Far away, in a world they thought they’d left behind, Anastasia burst into the gatekeeper’s tent, her boots crunching against the ash-coated floor.

The gatekeeper, a figure with no eyes, only two glowing black pits, flinched. "You scared me."

"Three children," Anastasia barked. "Did they pass through here?"

"I saw no children," the gatekeeper lied smoothly, the black pits of his eyes flickering.

A demon crept behind Anastasia. "Your Highness, we've searched through the human world. There’s no trace."

Anastasia narrowed her eyes. Diana stepped forward, her lips curling.

"They’re not in the human realm," she muttered. "There’s another boundary. The one even Mother fears."

"That door is guarded," Anastasia warned. "Only those with purest magic can pass. Even Queen Latesha couldn’t breach it."

Diana smiled darkly. "Then we kill the one who guards it."

Back in the woods, the old woman’s fingers trembled as she packed a small leather bag. She could feel the danger. It burned like a brand on her back.

She turned—but it was too late.

"Well, well, well," came Diana’s voice, silk and poison. "Look what we have here. N-I-R-A-B-E-T-H’s oldest seer."

The woman raised her chin, her eyes fearless.

"Where are they? Where’s the map to the temple?" Diana stepped closer, her eyes blazing.

"I don’t know what you speak of," the seer replied calmly. "But perhaps you should go home and prepare for the war your mother is about to lose."

Fury exploded in Diana’s veins. With a flick of her wrist, she slammed the woman into the hut wall.

But the seer was fast. She cast a protection shield just in time, deflecting part of the blow.

"Where is Clara?!" Diana screamed, her hands gripping the woman’s throat.

The seer gasped and channeled her strength. A blinding flash—Diana flew backward.

They fought. For ten brutal minutes, fire and shadow and wind crashing between them. Trees splintered. The ground shook. But in the end, Diana stood victorious, the seer collapsed, coughing blood.

"Last chance," Diana whispered, her voice dripping venom. "Where are they?"

The seer laughed—a rasping, painful sound. "You think pain will make me talk? I’ve lived long enough to see tyrants fall. You, your mother, your entire reign—it will crumble. The prophecy child will rise."

Diana clenched her jaw. She raised her hand.

"The map is in safe hands," the seer added. "And you’ll never find them."

Diana paused. She wouldn’t kill her—not yet. "Take her to the cell. Torment her until she begs."

Her soldiers dragged the seer away.

From the trees above, unseen, Dalia watched. Her heart pounded. Clara was alive... and inside the hidden realm.

Far from the battle, in a quiet corner of a distant city, Mister Martin stood on a small balcony, gazing out over unfamiliar rooftops. His wife stepped beside him.

"So... who’s Claudia?"

Martin turned. His face was tired. "A girl who wanted to learn. I couldn’t ignore that."

"And you didn’t think to tell me? You raised another man’s child."

Martin’s voice was low but firm. "It wasn’t about that. She needed help. And I gave it."

His wife turned away, arms crossed.

"If I hadn’t, we’d all be dead now. So please, just... let it rest."

Silence lingered between them, but she said no more.

The war hadn’t begun. But its tremors were already shaking the earth.

And far away, Clara, Danielle, and Eric walked deeper into the unknown, where destiny waited in shadows.