The old woman's fingers were like withered roots, curling and snapping as they reached across the little wooden table. She caught Yuki's hand before either of us could protest. At first her grip seemed fragile, brittle as parchment. But then her nails dug in, and I saw Yuki wince. That hand was strong—too strong for a frail crone.
A breath of wind swirled through the alley, carrying with it the smell of burnt herbs and iron. The crystal shards dangling above us swayed, clinking together like chattering teeth. Shadows bent strangely against the walls, flickering like they weren't tied to the firelight anymore.
The woman's cloudy eyes rolled back until only the whites showed, and a rasp of a language I didn't know hissed between her lips. It wasn't words—it was something older than words, something that scraped against the inside of my skull.
Yuki stiffened, her small hand trembling in the old woman's grip. I reached across the table, but stopped. A part of me wanted to rip her hand away immediately. Another part—some stubborn, irrational corner of me—was too terrified of what I'd interrupt.
Finally the crone's mouth stilled. Her eyes came rolling back into place, sharp and disturbingly clear for someone so old. She spoke softly, but her words hit like a blade sliding between ribs.
"Your path is bright… yet heavy, child. The threads of fate are tangled tight around you."
Yuki leaned in, her lips parted. I could see her chest rising and falling too fast. She was scared, but curious—like a child watching a fire burn too close to the house.
I tightened my jaw, trying to ground myself. "Bright? That's vague."
The crone didn't even blink. Her grip on Yuki's hand tightened, the veins on her wrist bulging like cords.
"I see… a spark. A new flame. New life… carried within you."
The air vanished from my lungs. The world tilted. For a heartbeat, the city, the castle, even the nightmare itself all felt impossibly far away.
Yuki's other hand flew to her stomach. Her wide eyes glistened in the dim light. "You mean—" she whispered. "I'm… I'm pregnant?"
The old woman nodded once. "Yes. The child of blood and fox-fire. The child of love."
I felt my own pulse pound like war drums. My chest ached. My thoughts scattered—flashes of every night I'd spent with her, of her warmth, her laughter, her body pressed against mine. I'd known it could happen. I'd known. But hearing it… hearing it spoken aloud in this cursed place—
"No," I muttered, shaking my head hard. My voice came out raw, uneven. "That's impossible. She's… she's too young, we're too—this is… this can't—"
Yuki turned, her eyes shining with fear and something else, something tender. "Seb…"
Her voice broke me more than the fortune-teller's words.
But the crone wasn't done. Her head jerked back as though listening to someone behind her. When she spoke again, it wasn't soft. It was a hiss.
"You must be wary. Beware the man in white—his flames are white, his shadow pure fire. He will burn all you hold dear."
Yuki gasped. My stomach dropped like a stone into water. Instantly, I thought of Alexie—the priest with the white hair, the empty eyes, that fake smile that didn't reach his face. Flames. White. My blood turned to ice.
The woman's body trembled violently now. Her lips moved faster, her words more frantic. "And yet… you, girl, have found the love of your life. The one who binds your heart and spirit."
I felt Yuki's gaze like sunlight on my skin. My own breath stuttered.
But then, slowly, the crone's face twisted toward me. For the first time, her milky eyes locked with mine. My heart stopped.
"You…" she croaked. Her fingers clawed at the edge of the table. "Your fate… gods help us all…"
She lurched forward, spittle flying, her body convulsing like she was being electrocuted. The crystals above snapped free and crashed onto the table. One shard cut her palm, and blood smeared across the wood in jagged strokes.
"You will face great misfortune…" Her voice had changed—it was layered now, as if three different throats spoke through her. "You will lose everything you cherish in this world!"
Then she screamed. It wasn't human. It wasn't even animal. It was the shriek of tearing metal, the roar of something breaking inside reality itself.
Her hands clawed at her face until bloody streaks smeared her cheeks. "OUT!" she shrieked. "OUT! BEFORE THE SHADOW DEVOURS YOU TOO!"
I grabbed Yuki's arm and pulled her to her feet. Her tails smacked against the wall as we bolted from the table. The smoke in the alley had thickened, curling into shapes, hands, mouths, things reaching for us as we ran. The old woman's shrieking laughter followed us out, echoing down the narrow passage until the sound felt like claws scratching inside my head.
We burst into the street. The sunlight felt blinding after the darkness of that alley. My heart hammered against my ribs, and Yuki clung to me, shaking.
She pressed her trembling hand to her stomach again, her lips quivering. "Seb… she said… I… I'm really—"
I couldn't meet her eyes. My thoughts were too sharp, too chaotic. Pregnant. The man in white. Losing everything.
Finally, I forced the words out, each one heavier than iron. "If it's true… then we'll face it together. No matter what."
Her eyes welled up with tears, but she nodded and pressed herself against me, her tails curling around my waist like chains.
I held her close, but my mind wouldn't still. Every word of that cursed woman's prophecy burrowed deep, and for the first time since this nightmare began, I felt something worse than fear.
I felt the weight of a future I couldn't control.
The carriage wheels rattled against the cobblestones, the steady rhythm the only sound for a long while. The alley's smoke still clung to me, burned into the back of my throat. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the old woman's milky stare and heard her scream.
Yuki sat pressed against me, her head on my shoulder, her tails coiled around my waist as if she was terrified I'd vanish if she let go. Her hand hadn't left her stomach since we fled that alley. Every so often, I'd catch her fingers trembling.
I slid my arm around her shoulders, pulling her tighter against me. "Hey," I murmured, keeping my voice as steady as I could. "Don't let her words scare you too much. She was a fortune-teller in a back alley, Yuki. They live to spout half-truths and nightmares."
She tilted her head up, her amber eyes wide and shimmering. "But what if she was right? Seb, what if I really am… pregnant?" Her voice caught on the last word like it was too heavy for her throat.
My heart clenched, but I forced myself to smile gently. I brushed my fingers through her hair, slow and steady, letting the silken strands run between them. "Then it doesn't matter what she said. If you are… if we are… I'll be there. Always. For you, for the kid, for whatever comes next. You don't have to carry this alone. Ever."
Her lips trembled, then curved into the smallest smile. She buried her face against my chest, her voice muffled. "You're too good to me."
I kissed the top of her head, inhaling the faint scent of foxfire that always clung to her. "Not nearly good enough."
For a while, we just sat like that, listening to the creak of the carriage and the clatter of hooves. Then Yuki stirred, peeking up at me with a hesitant grin. "Do you… think the baby would have your eyes or mine?"
The question caught me off guard. My chest tightened, but in a way that felt almost… warm. I chuckled low in my throat. "Yours. Definitely yours. No one deserves to be cursed with my glare."
Her tails flicked playfully against my leg. "I don't know. I think your eyes are handsome."
"Handsome and terrifying," I corrected. "Our kid deserves better than terrifying."
She giggled, a light, shaky sound that eased the knot in my chest. "Fine, then they'll have my eyes. But your hair."
I raised a brow. "Black and messy? You're not aiming very high, fox."
"I like your hair," she shot back, tugging at a strand. "So there."
The laughter faded into quiet again, but it wasn't heavy this time. It was soft, full.
I cleared my throat. "What about… personality? Do you think they'll be stubborn like you or broody like me?"
She gasped in mock offense, swatting my chest. "Stubborn? Excuse me?"
I grinned despite myself. "Oh, come on. You dragged me into a cursed alley with a fortune-teller after I explicitly said don't. If that's not stubborn, I don't know what is."
Her face heated pink, and she huffed, crossing her arms. "Then maybe I hope the baby takes after you. All quiet and protective and grumpy but secretly sweet."
I let out a slow laugh, pressing my forehead against hers. "Secretly sweet? You just blew my cover."
She melted into me then, all tails and warmth, her lips brushing my jaw as she whispered, "They'll be perfect. No matter what they take after. Because they'll be ours."
My chest ached, but this time it wasn't fear. It was something fuller, heavier, but not crushing. "Yeah," I murmured, my fingers stroking through her hair again. "Ours."
She hummed happily against me. "We'll need a name, you know."
That caught me again, my thoughts spiraling in ways I wasn't ready for. A child. A name. A family. I swallowed. "Alright then. What do you want to name them?"
Yuki's brows furrowed in deep concentration, her tails twitching as if names themselves might be hiding in the fur. Finally, she whispered, "If it's a girl… maybe Hana. It means flower."
I nodded slowly. "Hana. That's… beautiful. Gentle. Fits."
"And if it's a boy…" She tapped her lip, thinking. "…maybe Kaito? It sounds strong. Someone who could protect others."
"Kaito," I repeated, tasting the sound. It felt strange in my mouth, yet right somehow. I could picture it—some little shadow running through the halls, laughing, clinging to Yuki's tails while I pretended not to smile. My chest warmed at the thought.
Yuki's eyes shone as she whispered, "Do you like them?"
I kissed her forehead, letting the answer pour into the touch. "I love them. Almost as much as I love you."
Her cheeks flushed scarlet, and she buried herself in my chest again, muttering, "You can't just say stuff like that in the middle of a carriage ride, Seb…"
I chuckled, holding her tighter. Outside, the city passed us by in blur and shadow. But in that carriage, with Yuki curled up against me, with names and futures whispered between us, the prophecy felt far away. For the first time since the nightmare began, the darkness didn't feel so heavy.
For the first time, I believed maybe—just maybe—we could make something good here.