THE PROPHECY THAT BLED

EYES IN THE CAGE

The Pen House courtyard was unusually quiet that evening. Shadows stretched long and thin over the stone floor, stretching toward the cages where the small, trembling pups were kept. Aeloria pressed herself into the far corner of her cage, knees pulled to her chest, her white hair clinging damply to her face.

Liora, curled around her wrist in bracelet form, shimmered faintly in the last golden rays of sunlight. The tiny spirit animal chirped softly, sensing the tension in the air, a warning that travel beyond the cage walls was still impossible.

Rowan crouched beside her, leaning against the iron bars of his own cage. His amber eyes scanned the courtyard, alert, cautious. He hadn’t spoken for a while, but Aeloria knew his silence was a shield—he always tried to protect her, even from within the cage.

A light, melodic voice cut through the tension.

“You’re… interesting,” it said.

Aeloria and Rowan froze. The sound came from the far end of the courtyard. Two children stood outside the cages—twins, though they looked nothing alike. The girl had sunlight in her hair, a smile bright enough to cast warmth over the courtyard. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity and mischief, and she leaned forward slightly, pressing her small hands against the cage bars.

The boy twin was taller, darker, his expression unreadable, eyes like storm clouds. He observed Aeloria and Rowan quietly, unblinking, his presence sharp and calculating.

Aeloria’s heart thudded in her chest. She pressed Liora against her wrist, and the bracelet pulsed faintly in response.

The girl twin’s voice was soft, warm, teasing even. “You two have survived… I didn’t think anyone could,” she said. Her dark eyes flicked to Rowan, a playful grin tugging at her lips. “You’re so brave. It’s… cute.”

Rowan’s ears flicked back slightly. “I’m just… careful,” he said softly, glancing at the girl.

The girl twin smiled. “I’m Seraphine,” she said, her gaze lingering on Rowan just a moment too long, curious and amused.

The boy twin’s lips pressed into a straight line. His eyes, cold and sharp, swept slowly toward Aeloria. He didn’t speak, but Aeloria felt the weight of his gaze like a physical pressure. The air seemed to thrum. His name, she would learn later, was Lucien, and even in silence, he made her feel as if he knew things she hadn’t yet learned about herself.

Seraphine tilted her head, studying Rowan carefully. “You’re quiet… and you notice things. I like that. It’s… different.”

Rowan’s gaze shifted to her, cautious but firm. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said softly.

Seraphine’s smile didn’t falter. “I’m supposed to see everything,” she said, almost teasing. “But you… you’re fascinating.”

Aeloria’s heart pounded. She pressed her wrist against her chest, feeling Liora curl tighter, tiny sparks of silver light flickering along the bracelet. Something was happening—something magical. And Liora was reacting before Aeloria even understood what it was.

Seraphine leaned forward, brushing a strand of hair from her face, her hand trembling slightly. And then it happened.

Her eyes flickered.

One silver, one amber—like fire and moonlight dancing together. Aeloria felt it even through the distance, Liora vibrating faintly against her skin.

Lucien’s eyes darkened suddenly, almost imperceptibly at first, then more clearly, as if a shadow had passed over his gaze. His sharp, calculating stare lingered on Aeloria for a heartbeat longer than natural, and she felt an instinctual chill crawl along her spine.

Rowan stiffened beside her, unsure if he had seen it or felt it. “Did… did you see that?” he whispered.

Seraphine’s laughter broke the tension, light and melodic, hiding her own surprise. “I… I don’t know,” she admitted. “It just… happened.”

Liora chirped softly, curling tighter around Aeloria’s wrist. The tiny creature’s glow pulsed faintly, protective, responsive, aware.

Aeloria pressed her hands together, trying to hide the tremor in her fingers. Her heart hammered, the cages around them suddenly feeling smaller, tighter, alive with tension. The Prince—Lucien—had noticed her. Somehow. Somehow he could feel her even without touching, without knowing the secret of Liora.

A guard barked orders in the distance, and the twins stepped back. Seraphine gave Rowan one last teasing smile, eyes glinting with curiosity and amusement. “You’re interesting,” she said again, voice light but full of intent.

Lucien’s gaze lingered on Aeloria until the guard’s voice pulled him away. His eyes darkened one final time, leaving her with the impression of being weighed, measured, and marked—all without a word.

The twins left the courtyard, leaving Aeloria and Rowan alone in the cages. The air seemed heavier now, charged with something ancient, something dangerous, something that Liora instinctively understood.

Aeloria pressed the bracelet tighter, whispering softly, “We’ll be okay, little one. Whatever happens… we’ll be ready.”

Liora chirped again, curling against her palm, a small shield of warmth and light in the darkness.

The courtyard fell silent, but the echoes of the twins’ visit lingered. Something had shifted. The world had grown slightly larger, and yet smaller, all at once. The cages, the Wolf Parkers, the cruelty—they were still real. But so was the magic. So was the prophecy, stirring just beneath the surface.

And most dangerously of all, the twins had seen them. They had noticed.

And they would not forget.