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I shake my head, this little girl holds power and knowledge that only she can understand, and I know I am right. This is my destiny, but Claire is the Chosen One, the only one that can restore the balance, the one everyone hashas been waiting for.

Claire lets go of my hands. The whispers of my ancestors remain, filling me with their wisdom, echoing around me and filling my mind with their knowledge. Looking up at the sky, I see the moon is nearly at its peak. Claire reaches for the goblet, taking it from Silas. Abigail steps away, and so do the Dragon Kings, leaving only Claire and I in the center.

Claire grabs the dagger on the table, gripping my hand, our ancestors whispering to us what needed to be done, we didn’t need my grandmother’s book with our guide standing with us. Claire slices my palm, holding it over the goblet, my blood running into the cup.

“The blood of spirit and the blood of our ancestors, the blood of the moon.”

I see Taylor step forward, I hadn’t even noticed her amongst the crowd. Claire slices her palm and lets her blood run into the goblet. “Child of the moon cursed to the night,” Claire and I whisper at the same time.

Claire then turns and waves to a human woman in the front row. Claire didn’t even have to ask, she willingly stepped forward holding out her palm.

“The blood of the sun and the child blessed to the light,” Claire says as she slices the human woman’s hand, her blood running into the goblet.

Claire then slices her own palm without even flinching like she didn’t even register the pain at all. She let it bleed into the goblet as Abigail flinches, looking scared but at the same time trusting her daughter. Just as she pulls her hand away, the moon reaches its peak and the goblet starts shaking slightly. I watch as Claire grabs the goblet, holding it above her head, the moonlight lighting up the goblet and her body as she stands directly under the moonlight.

I watch amazed as I hear Claire’s voice echo through the night “Don’t fear for the balance to be restored, a sacrifice must be made, and the Queen reborn.” Her words confuse me as I watch her drink from the goblet. Then, it dawns on me.

We are the sacrifice. Yet I have no fear of death, feel nothing but complete faith in her words and a strong urge to fulfil the prophecy. My grandmother’s reassuring voice in my head, feel the whispers of my ancestors washing over me like a breeze. The voices carried with the breeze grow stronger, and louder filling me and giving me a sense of calm and I drop to my knees in front of her. She tips the goblet to my lips, and I drink from it, feeling the magic in the blood bleeding into my soul, changing it.

Claire places the goblet down on the small table and grabs the dagger. The night turns silent as I watch her, not even crickets can be heard, the breeze suddenly dissipates, and it is like time stands still. Like time froze except for Claire. I reach for her as she slits her own throat. Blood gushes out of her neck spouting like a fountain turning her clothes a deep scarlet. The dagger falls from her little hands as her body falls on top of me. Abigail’s blood curdling scream full of anguish and heartache fills the night resounding loudly around us. Horror washes over me at what I witnessed yet I can’t let her death be in vain and I swallow down my shock, praying somehow she isn’t dead as I whisper the last piece.

“I, Elora Aziza, forgive the sins and right the wrongs of the past, for I shall fall, for the balance to be restored, for we are reborn, and we shall rise.” I grab the dagger, the steel glistening and dripping with Claire’s blood. My heart thuds in my chest so hard I can hear the drumming sound in my ears. Raising the knife to my throat, I whip the blade across quickly, feeling the coldness of the blade as it runs across my skin and slices easily through my throat. My life’s blood spills out of me and I choke for air. The taste pungent on my tongue as I feel myself grow weaker and my eyes roll into my head. The screams of everybody surrounding us, my eyes dart to Claire on my lap and the last sounds I remember are the screams of our loved ones, the whispers of our ancestors and my last dying breath.