Page 176 of Blade of the Nightking

“Eidra,” Rìan demanded again.

I barely heard him. I read the words again. Then again.

A strange excitement began to blossom in my chest.

“What if...” I murmured.

Rìan started speaking, but I thrust a hand out to silence him. To my astonishment, his mouth snapped shut.

My eyes skimmed over the page one more time. “What if we misheard? What if there's a mistake?”

Rìan was at my side in an instant. He snatched the prophecy from my hands before I could stop him, earning an irritated hiss from me.

“There's no mistake.”

“I think there is.”

His eyes narrowed. “Where?”

I pointed to the text, his eyes following my finger.

“What of it?”

“The missing bone will break the gate—Riven by Seven, carved of fate.”

He huffed. “And?”

“What if it isn't supposed to say fate?” I whispered. “What if it's supposed to say eight?”

His gaze flew back to the page. “Riven by Seven,” he read slowly. “Carved of eight.” He shook his head. “That makes no sense.”

“The missing bone will break the gate… Carved of eight.” I could barely contain myself now. I was right. I had to be. “What do we have in our possession that's carved with an eight-pointed star?”

Rìan froze.

For a heartbeat, he only stared at me. Then, slowly, his hand drifted to the bone knife. He slid it free and turned it over in his palm. The engraved star gleamed in the fading light.

“How could this be?” he murmured. “How is this possible?”

My thoughts drifted to Levinica.

To her earnest brown eyes.

To the way sunlight had caught in her ebony hair that day, turning it to gold and crowning her in a halo of light.

To the certainty in her voice when she'd asked that one question that had seemed entirely unrelated to anything we’d been discussing. A question I hadn't truly understood, or even paused to properly think about.

But now the answer was staring me in the face. From the hilt of the bone knife my father had given me all those months ago, in a dying realm cut off from magic.

Levinica’s voice echoed in my ears.

Do you believe in⁠—

“Fate,” I whispered.

Rìan looked up, and a strange expression crossed his face—something I'd never seen before and couldn't quite name. It was gone almost as quickly as it appeared, hardening into resolve.

He seized my wrist and pulled me toward the well. Before I could react, the bone knife slid across his palm, reopening the cut he'd made earlier. Blood welled instantly.