The first thing I heard was the heartbeat.
It wasn't mine.
A low, steady thrum seeped through the edges of sleep, like a distant drum under water. When I opened my eyes, silver light rippled across the ceiling of my room—soft, fluid, as if moonlight had learned to breathe.
I pushed up on my elbows. The feather lay where I'd hidden it, but its glow had deepened, each beat of light timed to the strange rhythm in my chest.
"Lila."
I gasped. Elior stood by the window, the curtains stirring around him though the glass was shut. The green of his aura shimmered faintly, washed pale by the feather's silver. His eyes found mine, quiet and fierce.
"You felt it too," I whispered.
He nodded once. "The Concord is moving. Your power is… answering."
I wanted to ask a hundred questions, but before I could, the air thinned. A warm breeze, sweet with the scent of roses, brushed the back of my neck.
Adrian.
He emerged from the corner of shadow as if he'd been there all along—golden light threading through his dark coat, eyes gleaming like sunrise caught in amber.
"Your heartbeat's changing," he said softly. "You feel it, don't you? The choice waking up."
Elior's hands clenched at his sides. "You shouldn't be here."
"And yet here I am," Adrian replied, voice lazy, dangerous. "Because she called without realizing it."
"I didn't call anyone," I said.
Adrian tilted his head, a small, knowing smile. "Your soul did."
The feather pulsed harder, each flash lacing silver across the room. The sound of that other heartbeat—mine, yet not—grew louder until it filled everything.
"What is happening to me?" My voice shook despite the steel I tried to find.
Elior stepped closer, green light flaring. "The Child of the Feather prophecy," he said, finally giving the name he'd hidden for days. "A mortal whose heart bridges worlds. If the Concord binds you, they can reshape the balance of choice itself."
"And if they don't?" I asked.
"They'll destroy what they can't control," Adrian said before Elior could answer. "They've done it before."
Elior shot him a warning glance. "Fear isn't truth."
"Neither is obedience," Adrian countered. "Tell her how many hearts you've been ordered to guide—forced to guide—without their consent."
"Enough." Elior's voice cracked like a bowstring. He looked at me, not Adrian. "Lila, you still have time. But the Concord will come. Soon."
The air in the room thickened, silver and green weaving into gold. I felt the beat of two worlds pressing against my ribs—one steady and gentle, one wild and endless. My own heartbeat raced to keep up.
"I don't belong to any of them," I said, barely louder than a breath.
The feather blazed so bright we all had to shield our eyes. A single note—clear, impossible—rang through the apartment like the toll of a distant bell.
Then, just as suddenly, the light died.
Silence followed, heavy and absolute. Outside, the city remained ordinary: a car horn, the call of an early bird, rain gutters dripping from the night's storm.
Elior lowered his hands. "It's begun."
Adrian smiled, a flash of gold in the dim. "And now the real game starts."
Neither of them moved. Neither did I.
Somewhere deep inside, the echo of that other heartbeat lingered, a promise—or a warning—that nothing about my life would ever be simple again.