Morning arrived gently in Mira's house.
Soft sunlight slipped through the small window, landing across the wooden table where Elowen sat quietly.
Mira moved around the room, tying small bundles of herbs together and placing them into a basket.
"You can't sit inside forever," Mira said without looking up.
Elowen glanced toward the window.
"I wasn't planning to."
Mira gave a small hum that clearly said she didn't believe her.
"Come here."
Elowen turned as Mira stepped behind her with a wooden comb.
"You've been treating this hair like a madman," Mira muttered as she began working through the tangles.
The comb snagged slightly.
Elowen winced.
"I usually keep it hidden."
"That explains the knots."
Mira carefully separated the long strands before beginning a neat braid.
Her hands were gentle but firm.
"You're about the same age as my niece," Mira said quietly. "A girl your age shouldn't look like she's been wandering battlefields."
Elowen stared down at her hands.
"A girl like me doesn't have many choices."
Mira tied the end of the braid with a small ribbon.
"Well," she said, "today you do."
She disappeared briefly into another room and returned holding a folded bundle.
"Try this."
Elowen unfolded the clothes.
A simple gray dress. Clean. Soft. Meant for someone her age.
She hesitated before changing.
For a brief moment she remembered the house she grew up on.
Her Mother carefully placing her clothes on the bed.
Her Father fiddling with her hair.
When she looked at herself in the small mirror hanging beside the door, she almost didn't recognize the girl staring back.
Her hair was neatly braided.
Her clothes fit properly.
For a moment, she looked… ordinary.
Mira nodded approvingly.
"There. Now you look like someone who belongs in a city instead of a battlefield."
Elowen managed a small smile.
"Thank you."
Mira grabbed her basket.
"Good. Now come with me."
"Where?"
"To gather herbs."
The forest outside Virelden was quiet and cool.
Tall trees filtered the sunlight into thin golden beams across the ground.
Elowen followed Mira along a narrow trail that wound deeper between the trunks.
"You know anything about plants?" Mira asked.
"A little."
"You'll learn more today."
After a while, the trees thinned slightly.
A small stone building stood ahead.
Its roof sagged slightly with age, and vines crept along the walls.
Elowen slowed.
"What is this place?"
"An old chapel," Mira replied.
She began kneeling near the entrance, cutting small green leaves into her basket.
"People used to come here often. Now most prefer the temples inside the city."
Elowen looked toward the open doorway.
"You can look inside," Mira added casually.
Elowen stepped through the door.
The chapel was quiet.
Dust floated slowly through narrow shafts of sunlight.
Old wooden benches stood in uneven rows.
But something immediately caught her attention.
At the far end of the room, carved directly into the stone wall, were long lines of ancient writing.
Elowen walked closer.
Her heartbeat quickened.
She had seen small carvings like this before in other chapels.
But never this large.
The prophecy.
Her fingers brushed lightly over the worn letters.
She began to read.
When the red flame walks among men,
From the ashes of blood she shall rise.
Like a phoenix she will wander
Through a thousand crossroads.
Elowen froze.
Her breath caught.
Her fingers trembled slightly against the stone.
She continued reading.
The shadows of every kingdom
Shall be brought into the light.
The rivers will bear witness to countless deaths,
The forests will stretch and bend,
And the mountains shall tremble beneath her breath.
Elowen swallowed hard.
Countless deaths.
She had already seen so many.
And yet…
She kept returning.
Her eyes moved to the final lines.
Shall the child of flame bring ruin,
Her choices bound by fate and fear?
Or shall she mend the wrath of kingdoms,
Before doubt consumes them all?
The world shall be seen anew through wiser eyes,
And the land between the two great crowns
Shall remain only embers of flame.
Elowen stepped back slowly.
Her mind spun.
If this prophecy had been carved here long before she was born…
Then her deaths.
Her loops.
Her returns.
None of it was an accident.
Outside, Mira called gently.
"Elowen?"
But Elowen remained frozen in place, staring at the ancient words.
"Through a thousand crossroads," she whispered.
Maybe the prophecy wasn't warning the world about her.
Maybe it was warning her.
Far to the north, the land of Rhaedor lay under a gray sky.
War camps stretched across the cold hills.
Inside the largest command tent, a soldier knelt before a tall figure standing beside a table covered with maps.
"My lord… the ambush failed."
The man did not look up immediately.
His long dark hair was tied behind his back, falling neatly between his shoulders.
When he finally turned, firelight reflected in his piercing golden eyes.
"How?" he asked quietly.
"The Virelden soldiers were prepared."
Kael's brow lowered slightly.
"They should not have been."
The soldier hesitated.
"There was… something else."
Kael stepped closer.
"What?"
"A girl."
The soldier swallowed.
"She walked with Virelden General."
Kael's eyes narrowed.
"What about her?"
The soldier lowered his gaze.
"She had red hair."
Silence filled the tent.
For a moment, Kael did not move.
Then something flickered in his expression.
Not anger.
Not disbelief.
Something far more dangerous.
Hope.
He turned slowly toward the dark horizon beyond the camp.
"And what did the soldiers say about her?"
The soldier spoke quietly.
"They called her…"
"The curse."
The fire cracked softly behind them.
Kael's lips curved slightly.
For the first time in years, Kael felt something stir in his chest.
Hope.