The cradle still smoldered.
Even days after Lyra's wolves had invaded, the chamber reeked of venom and ash. The obsidian walls bore scars where fire had once raged, and the veins of pure silver threading the cradle now pulsed faintly with a sickly green.
No matter how many times Selene tried to burn it clean, the corruption would not yield. Her flames hissed and spat, but the venom clung stubbornly—as if mocking her.
The child slept within.
His slumber was restless.
Every so often his tiny body twitched, and shadows curled tighter around him, coiling like protective serpents. His golden eyes, when they fluttered open, still blazed with fire laced with darkness—but sometimes, just sometimes, Selene swore she saw a flicker of green there too. A stain she could not wash away.
Selene had not slept since that night.
She paced the sanctum like a caged beast, her hair wild, her flames faltering with her breath. She told herself it was vigilance—that she was watching for more wolves, for another surge of Lyra's venom. But deep down she knew the truth.
She was watching her son.
Watching for the prophecy to claim him after all.
The Beast stood guard at the chamber's edge, his vast frame draped in shadow, his blades resting within reach. His eyes—once molten with fury—now glowed with quiet dread. Every time the child stirred, his claws flexed, as if ready to fight what might rise from that cradle.
On the third night without sleep, Selene finally spoke.
"I saw it," she whispered. Her voice cracked, raw from silence.
The Beast shifted but did not answer.
"In his eyes," she said. "When the venom touched him. I saw it—the prophecy twisting. It wasn't broken. It was reborn."
Her flames guttered low, as though her words drained even her fire.
The Beast's voice was gravel. "Do not name it. Naming gives it power."
Selene spun on him, her fury igniting. "It already has power! Don't you feel it? Every realm does. Seers are waking in screams. The weave trembles. The world knows."
The Beast said nothing, but his silence was an admission. He had felt it too—the shift, the pulse that ran through all creation the moment Lyra's venom seeped into the cradle.
The old prophecy—shattered in Mars's storm—had not died.
It had reshaped.
Sharper. Crueler.
Selene gripped the cradle's rim, her fingers digging into obsidian until blood welled from her palms. "I fought destiny. I chose love. I thought that would be enough. But now—" Her breath trembled. "Now I fear I've chosen ruin."
The child stirred. His golden eyes flickered open.
For a heartbeat, molten light filled the chamber, pure and bright.
Selene's heart leapt.
Then the glow dimmed—veined faintly with green. Shadows coiled from his lashes like smoke.
Her tears hissed where they struck the cradle.
The Beast stepped forward, his hand heavy on her shoulder. "Listen to me. You freed me. You broke chains older than empires. Do not surrender now to whispers. The boy is ours. Not Velkar's. Not Lyra's. Ours."
Selene wanted to believe him. She wanted his words to burn away her dread. But then the child cried—and the sound that split the chamber was not entirely human.
It carried echoes. Wolves howling across the void.
Selene clutched him to her chest, rocking, whispering, "Hush, my flame. Hush." But her arms trembled.
---
Far Beyond the Fortress
The prophecy spread like plague.
In kingdoms of frost, seers clawed out their own eyes, shrieking of fire crowned in venom. In deserts of black sand, prophets convulsed, spitting smoke as shadows writhed from their mouths. Across the realms, monarchs woke to omens scrawled in ash upon their walls:
> Two heirs rise.
One born of fire and shadow, marked by venom.
One born of wolves and hunger, daughter of night.
When they meet, worlds will burn.
At the edge of a chasm, Velkar stood, shadows boiling around him, his spear pulsing with black lightning. Lyra leaned beside him, her wolf-daughter crouched at her feet, green eyes glowing like twin moons.
"Do you hear it?" Lyra purred, her smile venomous. "The prophecy lives again. Stronger. Bloodier. And this time—it favors us."
Velkar's grin was sharp as broken glass. "Not us. Her."
His gaze fell to the child. The wolf-daughter's fangs gleamed, her claws dripping with shadow.
"She will tear his flame to ash," he murmured. "And when she does—every throne will kneel."
The girl tilted her head, ears twitching to whispers only she could hear. Her lips curled in a feral grin.
---
Dreams of the End
In the fortress, Selene finally slept.
Exhaustion dragged her into dreams—and in those dreams, the prophecy unfolded.
She stood in a field of ash beneath a crimson sky split by green lightning.
Two figures clashed at the field's heart. Children—yet not children.
Her son—grown, armored in flame and shadow, his golden eyes burning bright, venom threading through his veins.
And opposite him, Lyra's daughter—cloaked in wolf fur, claws dripping green fire, her howl splitting the stars.
They collided. Fire roared. Venom screamed.
The ground cracked open, swallowing kingdoms whole.
Selene ran toward them, screaming, but when she reached them—her hands were drenched in blood.
Her son's blood.
His golden eyes dimmed as he fell into her arms.
He whispered one word: Why?
She woke screaming, flames bursting uncontrolled, scorching the chamber walls.
The Beast seized her shoulders. "Selene! Wake!"
Her eyes were wild, her breath ragged. "I saw it," she gasped. "I saw him fall. I killed him with my choice."
The Beast's shadows flared with fury. "No prophecy will take him. Not while I breathe. Not while you burn."
But Selene only shook her head. "It's written again. Stronger. And this time—it ends in his blood."
The Beast held her close, but for the first time, she felt no anchor. Only the pull of destiny's tide.
---
The Ashes Whisper
Beyond the fortress, armies stirred. Kings whispered. Wolves howled beneath shattered moons.
The prophecy in ashes had found new roots—and every soul in every realm felt its weight.
And in the cradle, the child slept.
Shadows curled.
Flames flickered.
His golden eyes dreamed of battles yet to come.