THE PROPHECY CHILD

CHAPTER 14: The Encounter

A blinding light still pulsed faintly from the tablet when the wind shifted, stirring the dust that lay heavy on the ancient temple floor. The golden statues of the fallen rulers of Neathermore stood tall and silent around the children, their polished surfaces glowing with reverence under the glint of the returning sun.

From the shadows of the grand entrance, Diana emerged.

"Well, well, well... I see the prophecy child is revealed," she said, her voice carrying a taunting lilt, her eyes narrowing into slits. Her crimson cloak swirled behind her like blood-stained fire. She stepped forward slowly, her boots clacking against the marble floor with authority.

Eric instinctively stepped closer to Clara, but Clara didn’t flinch.

Diana tilted her head with a mocking smile. "I see you've read what the prophecy says. What did it say exactly, hmm? Do tell."

Clara stood motionless, her jaw clenched tight. The silence she returned was louder than any defiance.

Diana chuckled darkly. "The coward in you still remains, prophecy child."

Clara’s face remained stoic, though her fists curled tightly at her sides. Her breath deepened, and her chest rose and fell with slow, controlled determination.

"Oh, come now. Don’t you want to hear my condolences before your end?" Diana said with venom, and without warning, she released a surge of dark energy that spiraled toward Clara.

But the moment the magic touched the sacred space of the temple, it fizzled into ash and scattered across the marble. The golden statues began to shimmer brighter, their eyes glowing. The light reflected off their polished visages and shone directly onto Clara.

A sudden gust whipped through the chamber.

Clara's pupils ignited into glowing blue orbs. Her hair lifted with the wind as if moved by invisible forces. Light threaded through her veins, coursing visibly beneath her skin.

Power exploded from within her, rippling outward in waves of translucent gold. The floor trembled. A humming sound filled the air as dust rose like mist. Diana and Anastasia were blown backward, their cloaks billowing as they stumbled to regain balance.

Clara walked forward—slowly, purposefully. Her eyes locked on Diana. Each step echoed like thunder.

Diana's breath hitched. Her muscles tensed, but pride rooted her in place.

Clara stopped just a few inches away from her. Her radiant gaze pierced through Diana’s soul. The smirk on Diana’s face melted into tension. Her lips parted slightly. Her pulse raced.

Clara leaned in, her voice low, calm, yet commanding. "Save your powers for the actual battle coming. You might need them."

And with that, she gently placed her hand on Diana’s shoulder and shoved her backward. Diana crashed to the floor with a loud thud. The sound echoed across the sacred chamber.

Gasps filled the air behind Clara. Danielle’s mouth fell open. Eric blinked, stunned. Dalia stood still, her breath caught in awe.

Even Diana looked up in disbelief, feeling the cold sting of humility. As she scrambled to her feet, she looked at Clara as if she were seeing a new being altogether.

Anastasia rushed to her side, helping her up, but Clara’s power had already left its mark. Diana didn’t even attempt another strike. In silent surrender, she spun, and with Anastasia and the remaining guards, flew out of the temple, vanishing into the morning mist.

Clara’s glow began to fade. Her eyes returned to their natural color. Her posture slackened slightly. Confusion flickered across her features.

She turned toward the others, her voice small. "What just happened?"

Eric beamed. Danielle smiled wide. Dalia stepped forward and bowed slightly. "Welcome, prophecy child. Go save the world."

Clara blinked, her brows furrowed. "Yeah... I know I am. But... I honestly don’t know what just happened."

Danielle eagerly stepped forward. "You—Clara—you glowed! You walked like a goddess, and Diana looked like she wanted to vanish into the walls."

Clara’s eyes widened as she tried to make sense of it all. But the awe in their expressions fed something inside her. Maybe… she could do this. Maybe she was born for this.

—

Far away in the dark fortress of Neathermore Diana stormed in through the grand blackened gates. Her hair was disheveled, her cloak torn. Anastasia limped beside her, flanked by two guards nursing burn marks.

Inside the throne room, Latesha turned sharply.

"Clara is no match for us. She’s too powerful," Diana admitted, frustration boiling in her tone.

Latesha’s eyes blazed. Before she could speak, the old Seer, cloaked in dusty robes and bound by magical cuffs, chuckled from the shadows.

Latesha snapped her head toward her. "What is so funny, old woman?"

The Seer’s voice rasped with certainty. "I told you... Hope has come."

Latesha sneered and turned back to Anastasia. Her voice was low and dangerous. "What function do you carry out now, Anastasia?"

Anastasia dropped to her knees, trembling. "Your Highness… please. Forgive me. I’ll destroy her. Give me one more chance."

"You have failed me again!" latesha said angrily. her voice sounded like angry lioness roaring.

Diana looked away, swallowing her fear.

"And you, Diana," Latesha hissed. "This is not the end—this is the beginning. We will rule this world. We will win this war. Prepare everything. The world will bow to me."

The Seer laughed once more, wheezing. "Your greatest mistake was letting her believe in herself. And now, you’ve fulfilled the prophecy without even knowing it."

Latesha stormed toward her and raised a hand to strike but stopped herself. Her eyes narrowed with malice. "No. I want you to live long enough to watch me win."

The Seer smiled with quiet triumph. Clara will bring me out of here, she thought.

Latesha turned to her court of dark magicians. "Summon the priests. Prepare the ritual. Feed me their strength. I will become undefeatable."

Moments later, the temple rang with the cries of sacrifice, and the magic of a dozen priests was ripped from their bodies and absorbed into Latesha’s veins. She howled as the power surged through her. Her skin glowed with dark light—but still, it wasn’t enough.

"Clara… she holds the ultimate power," she whispered. "And I will take it."

—

Across the lands, hope bloomed.

In a ruined square in Nirabeth Queen Andrielle stood among her people—those broken, scattered survivors of the once-glorious kingdom. Her gown fluttered in the wind, and her crown caught the rising sun.

The people looked to her, their faces weary. Andrielle raised her arms.

"My people... I know you have lost much. But we have not lost everything. Hope has come. The prophecy child walks among us, and she will rise soon to Neathermore. We will reclaim what is ours—our land, our joy, our home."

A cry of joy rose, timid at first, but then louder—until the entire crowd erupted with cheers and tears. The heart of Nirabeth began to beat again.

—

Clara sat on a small rock, her eyes downcast, hands folded between her knees.

Eric approached gently. "You okay?"

She didn’t answer at first. Her face was a storm of thought. But then, slowly, her lips curled into a smile.

"Neathermore is my home. I must fight for it. They’re waiting for me. I just hope… I don’t fail."

Eric sat beside her, voice calm and resolute. "You won’t fail. Unless you try to do this alone. You’re powerful, Clara—but we are stronger together. You won’t win. We will."

She turned to him and smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Danielle. Thank you, Eric. For walking this path with me. I shouldn’t have said ‘I’. It was never just me. It’s always been us."

Danielle crossed her arms and huffed, playfully. "Thank you. Because I was just starting to feel like a decorative side character. One more ‘I’ and I swear I’d use that pearl and teleport to my family."

Clara chuckled. "I’m sorry, Danielle. That was a mistake."

Danielle smirked. "Just kidding. But not really."

In the sky above, storm clouds gathered over the horizon.

War was coming.

And Clara... Clara was ready.