The Mixes

Chapter Four — The Prophecy of Two

Elyria stared at Raven, her heartbeat thudding in her ears.

“A prophecy?” she repeated.

Raven nodded slowly. “It’s old. Ancient. Something every supernatural council keeps hidden.”

The wind stirred around them, scattering leaves across the empty street. Elyria’s witch senses tingled—like the night itself was holding its breath.

“What does it say?” she asked.

Raven hesitated. His jaw clenched. “It’s called the Prophecy of Two Mirrors. It speaks of twin hybrids—half spell, half blood, born under a fractured moon.”

Elyria shivered. The moon on the night of her birth had been split by an eclipse.

“Go on,” she whispered.

“One twin is destined to tip the balance toward light… the other toward ruin.”

He met her gaze. “But no one knows which is which.”

Elyria’s breath hitched. Her sister—Selene—could be the darkness. Or the light. Or maybe Elyria herself was the danger.

“No,” she said sharply. “My sister is not evil.”

Raven didn’t argue. That scared her more than if he had.

Before she could ask anything else, Raven’s head snapped to the side, eyes narrowing.

“What is it?” Elyria whispered.

“We’re being watched.”

A cold prickle crawled down Elyria’s spine. She turned slowly—just in time to see a small, glowing creature perched on a street sign.

A pixie.

Barely a foot tall, wings shimmering like fractured glass, eyes bright gold. It tilted its head, studying them.

“Great,” Raven muttered. “Just what we need.”

The pixie pointed at Elyria, and its tiny voice rang out like bells.

“Shadow-twin,” it squeaked. “The forest calls to you. The wolves await.”

Then it vanished in a burst of glittering light.

Elyria blinked. “Wolves? As in—werewolves?”

Raven sighed. “Yes. And if they’re calling for you… it’s not random.”

“Why me?”

“You’re the prophecy,” he said. “Everyone wants a piece of you.”

Wonderful.

Elyria crossed her arms. “So where is this forest?”

Raven pointed toward the distant silhouette of trees. “The Moonclaw Woods. But once we enter, we’re in pack territory.”

“Are you afraid of werewolves?” she asked, trying not to smirk.

“Of course not,” Raven scoffed. “I’m afraid of you, walking into their land and getting us both killed.”

Elyria lifted her chin. “I can handle myself.”

“You almost got kidn*pped fifteen minutes ago.”

“Fine,” she grumbled. “Then you protect me.”

Raven froze—for once, speechless.

And despite everything, Elyria smiled for the first time that night.