"A 'Shadowed Hand'?" I echoed, my voice barely a whisper. The fire crackled in the hearth, but its warmth failed to reach me. My thoughts immediately went to Lysander, sleeping peacefully in the nursery down the hall. "And you believe this... this prophecy concerns our son?"
Alaric squeezed my hand, his eyes reflecting both concern and determination. "I don't know what to believe yet. Most of these ancient texts are filled with metaphors and riddles. The 'Thorne Star' could mean many things."
But we both knew better. The timing was too specific to be coincidental.
"Tell me everything," I demanded, sitting up straighter. "Every word of this prophecy."
