Eila hadn't slept. She couldn't.
While the rest of the house breathed in rhythm with dreams, she sat alone beneath the flickering glow of a single candle. Its light cast long shadows across her small desk, dancing over the ancient scroll that lay untouched since the High Seer had placed it in her hands.
The seal had felt heavier than wax. It felt like fate.
Now, with her fingers trembling, she peeled it away. It cracked open like a bone long buried, the sound echoing in the stillness of her room.
The parchment inside was brittle, yellowed with age. The script, faded but unmistakable, pulsed with an ancient presence. She slowly unrolled it, heart hammering against her ribs as she read the title:
"Prophecy of the Triad Bond and the Veil's Reckoning."
Her breath caught. She whispered each word aloud, translating the forgotten language line by line, feeling the weight of every syllable settle over her shoulders.
"When the Moon casts three shadows on one soul,
and the stars refuse to shine,
the Veil shall waver, and the dead shall whisper,
yearning to return."
"Born of blood and spirit, chosen by sorrow,
the mate of the Triad shall walk where none dare step.
She will bear the burden of all fates entwined—
mate to the protectors, vessel of the curse, keeper of the flame."
"The Summoner shall rise in crimson fire, bearing Varium's touch,
But only the Triad can break his hold.
Not with blade nor silver—
but through the sacrifice of truth and choice."
Her lips quivered. Her throat tightened.
"If she is divided, the Veil will tear.
If she is broken, the world shall burn.
But if she is whole—
Life may yet begin anew, and the dead shall rest."
The last lines were messier, scrawled in haste and desperation.
"Should this come to pass in our time, guard the girl. She is the key and the lock. The mates may love her, but the world will try to destroy her. Do not let them."
She stared at the scroll, her vision blurring with tears. The candle flickered violently, reacting to the surge of emotions in her chest.
She wasn't just tied to the curse—she was the center of it all.
The mate of the Triad.
The girl with three shadows cast upon her soul.
She exhaled shakily and rolled up the scroll, binding it again with trembling fingers. The weight of her destiny was suffocating, but one thought grounded her—Jeremy Soren must be stopped. The Veil must be sealed. No matter the cost.
The next morning, sunlight crept across her floorboards as if afraid to disturb her thoughts.
She hadn't told her family anything—not yet. Instead, she shared a quiet lunch with her siblings, kissed Meera on the forehead, and told herself she'd protect them all… even if it meant losing the ones she loved most.
Through the mind-link, she had sent a brief but steady message to Leonard in the morning, who had returned from his trip just hours ago.
"Can you call Lukas and Zois to your manor? I'll come in the afternoon. There's something I must do."
Leonard's response came almost instantly.
"Done. I'll make sure no one disturbs you."
Now, standing at the gates of Blackwell Manor, the afternoon sun casting golden rays across the gravel path, Eila took a shaky breath. Her fingers curled tightly around the prophecy scroll, hidden within her cloak.
This was it.
She was going to tell them everything—the curse, the prophecy, the dangerous bond they shared.
And then she would reject them.
At least… she intended to. She had convinced herself that it was the right thing to do. The bond would put the twins in the path of ruin. If they stayed connected to her, they would be marked by the same fate. Her heart clenched at the thought, but if rejection meant protecting them, she would endure it.
She even imagined they might suggest it first, once they learned the truth. Maybe they'd thank her for giving them an out.
Her lips twisted into a bitter smile.
"Only the Moon Goddess knows what will happen now."
Little did she realize, the storm brewing behind the manor walls wasn't one of agreement or detachment.
It was fierce, fiery, and full of defiance.
Her mates—especially the Baldwin twins—were not preparing to let her go.
They were preparing to fight fate itself.