The soft glow of the fire flickered between them, casting shadows that danced across the wooden walls of the hut. The air was warm, filled with the lingering scent of roasted meat and simmering broth.
Anastasia sat still, but her mind raced.
She could not hold back her curiosity any longer.
She turned to Valerian, her voice carrying a quiet urgency.
"I want to read the prophecy myself," she admitted. "It might hold the answers I seek—clues to my birth, my existence… and my connection to it."
Valerian placed his goblet down, meeting her gaze with calm understanding.
"We don’t need to go searching for a copy," he said. "Because the prophecy is already here."
Anastasia blinked, confused. "What do you mean?"
Valerian leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable.
"There are very few
