Chapter 170: Ties that Burn
The fire in Isla’s veins hadn’t settled.
Even as Damian helped her to her feet, her hands still trembled, fingertips glowing faintly with the sigils that had momentarily hovered in the air. Her breath came ragged, like she'd been sprinting through another world. In many ways, she had.
The others closed in, surrounding her without words.
Raven touched her shoulder lightly, her eyes dimmed now but alert. “You were in between,” she murmured. “Between the realms.”
Isla nodded. “They showed me… my parents. Lucira and Corven and they told me…” Her throat tightened. “They told me I have to choose what my child becomes.”
A hush fell. Rohen was the one to break it. “That’s not a choice any mother should make alone.”
“You’re not alone,” Lucia said gently, stepping beside him. “We are here, always, never doubt that.”
Alaine crossed her arms tightly over her chest, the scent of control rolling off her like heat. “What did they mean…one bloodline must ascend, one must sleep?”
Isla exhaled. “I don’t know exactly. But I think it means one part of the prophecy child’s heritage, the Veyra light, or the Umbrazin dark, must be dominant. The child can’t carry both in full strength.”
“They’re too opposed,” Silas said thoughtfully, speaking for the first time. He stepped out from the shadow of the stone arch, eyes unreadable. “That much power in balance… it would tear the world apart. The child would become a rift, not a bridge.”
Brienne’s jaw clenched. “So how do we even begin to help her decide that?”
“We don’t,” Leo said. “We support her and we make damn sure that when the moment comes, she has the strength to make the call.”
Vincent, still lingering at the edge of the group, finally moved. “What happens to the part that sleeps?”
Isla met his gaze. “They didn’t say.”
But they all understood. What is put to sleep can be forgotten, lost or diminished and in a world that is already teetered on the edge of forgetting its true self… that loss would echo for generations.
They made camp at the foot of Emberfall that night, protected by layered wards Alaine and Raven wove together with quiet precision. The spire loomed behind them like a silent guardian, its glyphs dimmed but still pulsing gently like the beat of an old, slumbering heart.
The fire burned low. Isla sat with her back against Damian’s chest, his arms wrapped around her, one hand spread protectively over her chest. She felt his breath at her neck, steady, but his energy was coiled tightly beneath his skin. He hadn’t spoken much since the vision.
“You’re angry,” she whispered.
“Not at you,” he said.
“Then what?”
He was silent for a long moment. “At fate, or at prophecy, at whatever gods or forces think they have the right to make you choose between love and legacy. Between peace and power.”
She turned slightly to look at him. “You think I should choose peace?”
“I think…” He kissed her temple. “I think you should be able to have both.”
“I’m not sure that’s possible,” she murmured. “Not with what’s coming.”
He pulled her closer. “Then we make it possible.”
She smiled, faint but real. “You sound like a madman.”
“I am,” he said. “Mad about you and mad enough to defy the gods themselves if I have to for Elysia and for us all.”
Behind them, the others were quiet in their own way. Rohen stood watch with Vincent, neither speaking but both aware of each other’s presence. The former enemies now functioned with a silent understanding, pragmatic, tense, but aligned.
Brienne and Raven shared a flask near the fire, Brienne’s shoulders finally loose enough to lean just slightly against Raven’s. There was history there, not fully spoken, but it hummed like a current between them.
Silas sat apart, scribbling into one of his ancient journals, but every so often, his eyes flicked to Raven as if drawn by a tether he couldn’t sever.
Lucia and Alaine had taken to tending to the wards, but Isla caught the soft way Alaine’s hand brushed over Leo’s when he passed her the energy stones. These small connections, the touch, the glances, the half-muttered prayers, they were more than comfort.
They were resistance against despair and fate.
Later that night, Isla rose from Damian’s arms and walked alone to the edge of the embers. The spire called to her again, but not with voices or visions this time.
It was raw and echoing emotion. It evoked loss, hope and hunger….
“I hear you,” she whispered.
A shift behind her. It was Silas.
He stood barefoot, as always, the tips of his fingers ink-stained. “You won’t sleep tonight.”
“Neither will you,” she replied.
He offered a tired smile. “The old magic stirs. You’ve awakened it more than I ever expected.”
“I didn’t mean to.”
He shook his head. “You were born to.”
She studied him then, this strange scholar with a past made of shadows. “You’ve seen what happens if the Umbrazin rises fully, haven’t you? The Sombrosi seems petty little pets next to the Umbrazin‘s true power ”
Silas didn’t deny it. “Yes, that is why little was known about them.”
“Tell me more.”
He looked up at the stars, then down at her. “If you embrace Umbrazin fully, the child may wield darkness pure enough to undo time. To unmake the Veil itself. But that power could also burn through generations of war in a single heartbeat. It could change everything.”
“And if I choose Veyra?”
“Hope and illumination may spread. The rebirth of the old Seer lines. The chance to mend the world’s memory.”
“And the cost?”
He hesitated. “Possibly… Damian.”
The air stopped.
“What?”
Silas’s eyes softened. “If the light within your child eclipses the Umbrazin blood, Damian may lose the tether that keeps his own darkness at bay. It’s not guaranteed. But it’s possible.”
Isla staggered back a step. “That’s not a choice. That’s cruelty.”
Silas didn’t touch her. He simply bowed his head. “I’m sorry.”
She turned, heart pounding, mind racing, and behind her, the wind picked up, ash swirling around her ankles. The Ember Spire’s glyphs glowed once more.
The world is watching. The blood remembers. What will you become?