The Chief’s words moved like wind through leaves—soft, ancient.“My predictions… they may not be true.The future is not always clear.Do not stress.Do not fear.You are tired.Hungry.Let my people care for you.”
His gaze, aged and wise, held mine.I wanted to believe him, to drink in the peace he offered.But fear had rooted itself too deeply.
“Dancing Fire will look after you.Sky Raven will guard Mary.”His voice lowered.“You are not alone now.”
His eyes—weathered by time, shaped by hardship—softened, and with a final word, he dismissed the storm inside me with quiet authority.
“Rest.”
Before I could protest and ask the thousand questions clawing at my throat, he gestured for Dancing Fire to lead me away.I turned, my steps unsteady, and let myself be guided from the council fire’s warmth into the night’s cool embrace.
But with each step, dread coiled tighter around my heart.
Twins.Timebornes.
The things I had fled now clung to me like shadows at dusk, impossible to outrun.Fear gnawed at my soul.
I had left a trail of destruction behind me.Two powerful Timehunter societies lay in ruins—because of me.Because of the poison I created.The secrets I carried.The war I started.
Timehunters showed no mercy.They never did.They sought Timebornes and Timebounds like wolves stalking prey—cold, and cruel.
And now, Salvatore hunted me.His name alone sent a shiver through me.He wanted the truth—about the Noctyss flower, the poison, the future growing inside me.
My heart twisted.Amir.
Dead and Gone.Because of me.
His death was a wound that never closed, a punishment I could never escape.
And now, I was to bring Timebornes into this world—a world soaked in blood, ruled by power, haunted by death.What life could they possibly have, shaped by the chaos I’d created, carrying the burden of the path I chose?
Desperation pressed against my ribs, suffocating me.All I yearned for was escape.
From the nightmare.From the prophecy.From myself.
But deep down, I knew.
My sins would not let me go.
They waited in the dark, patient and silent?—
Ready to strike.
ChapterTwenty-Five
ELIZABETH
The leather felt foreign against my skin—a stark contrast to the silks and laces that once graced my wardrobe.Weeks had passed since I found myself living among the Sioux on their tribal land in 1762, yet each sunrise greeted me with novelties that felt neither less strange nor less barbaric than the last.
The garments I now wore, crafted from soft deerskin, clung to my body.Intricate beadwork adorned every surface, tiny stones and shells woven into patterns that told stories I couldn’t begin deciphering.I ran my fingers along the fringes that lined the seams—tactile threads binding me to a world not my own—a world of earth and wind, of voices spoken in unfamiliar tongues, of customs as ancient as the stars above.
Dancing Fire had gifted me these clothes—his sister’s garments, once worn with pride, now passed to me with reverence.Along with them, he had offered me a place in his teepee.An act of kindness.Of acceptance.Yet, even draped in the trappings of his people, I was still an outsider—caught in a quiet limbo between belonging and exile.I spoke their words in halting fragments and learned their ways through observation and gentle correction, but I could not cross the chasm between who I had been and what I was becoming.
As twilight bled into the sky, the horizon painted in hues of dying fire, I sought solitude in the only place that brought me peace—the forest.Among the towering pines and shifting shadows, I surrendered to the ache that gripped my chest like a vice.
Amir.
His name was a whisper in the wind, a ghost among the leaves.I closed my eyes, breathing in the scent of moss and bark, but all I could feel was him—the warmth of his skin, the deep bronze of his Mediterranean complexion, the soothing power in his dark eyes.I remembered how his arms felt around me, the quiet strength of being near him, and the heartbeat I used to rest my head against.
