Chapter 11: Fire Witch's Prophecy
Smoke curled through the canopy of the forest, drifting like ghostly fingers toward the full moon. Aria lay in Lucian's arms, her skin still tingling from their union, her body marked by his scent, his warmth. But the peace she felt was fleeting. In the quiet aftermath of their passion, something stirred within her a low, insistent thrum beneath her ribs, like the beat of a war drum calling from across time.
She stirred in the darkness, rising to her feet, bare feet sinking into the mossy earth. The air had shifted, grown cooler, heavier with unseen energy. Lucian stirred as well, instantly alert, his golden eyes locking onto her.
"Something's wrong," she murmured.
He nodded. "I feel it too."
Then the forest changed.
The moon vanished. The stars blinked out. The fire died with a hiss of steam, plunging them into a thick and unnatural darkness. A red mist seeped between the trees, glowing faintly, pulsing with rhythm like a heartbeat.
Aria turned
And found herself alone.
The glade was gone. The trees melted away like wax, replaced by a vast and scorched plain. Fires burned in the distance. Smoke blackened the sky. Blood soaked the earth beneath her feet.
A battlefield.
"Aria."
The voice was female, ancient, ethereal. Aria spun around and saw her an old woman cloaked in fire. Her hair billowed like smoke, her eyes glowing like embers, skin cracked and glowing from within.
The Fire Witch.
"Where am I?" Aria asked, her voice echoing through the void.
"In the Veil of Flames. The space between life and fate," the witch said, walking barefoot across molten ground. "You have awakened the blood. Now the prophecy must be fulfilled."
"Prophecy?"
The witch raised her hand. Flames erupted, swirling into images in the air: a burning kingdom, two wolves at war, a throne of bone and ash. And then Aria herself, standing with flames wreathing her body, her eyes glowing crimson.
"You are the Fire-Blooded One," the witch intoned. "The last heir of the Phoenix line. Reborn in fire, mated by blood. Only you can end the war that has cursed our kind for ten thousand years."
Aria staggered back. "No. I'm not... I'm just"
"You are not just anything." The witch stepped closer. "You were reborn to fulfill the pact of the flame. But darkness moves, and if you do not rise, all will burn."
Aria's breath hitched as more images poured from the fire: Lucian on his knees, bleeding, his mate mark torn from his neck; a dark vampire with crimson eyes raising an army of shadow beasts; cities collapsing into chaos; fire raining from the skies.
"No..." she whispered. "How do I stop this?"
"You must embrace your power. Find the Flameheart buried within your soul. Only then can you wield the Ember Crown. Only then can you unite the divided."
"What if I fail?"
The witch's voice turned solemn. "Then all will fall. The mate bond will be broken. The curse will consume you."
A moment of silence stretched, heavy as stone.
Then the Fire Witch pressed a flaming palm to Aria's chest.
A searing pain exploded in her ribcage. She screamed, collapsing to her knees. Fire poured into her, through her, branding her soul. Visions assaulted her: a phoenix rising, a sword forged in lava, a child born of flame and fang.
"You are the fire," the witch said. "Remember."
Everything went black.
Aria gasped as she shot upright.
Lucian was already at her side, gripping her shoulders. "Aria! Aria, look at me."
Her eyes flared red for a moment, then faded back to their normal hue. She coughed, clutching her chest where a glowing symbol burned faintly beneath her skin.
"What happened?" he asked.
"I saw her," Aria whispered. "The Fire Witch. She said I'm... the Fire-Blooded One. A prophecy."
Lucian went still. "You remembered."
"You knew?"
He nodded solemnly. "Only rumors. That the last of the Phoenix line would return. That she would bring balance or destruction. I never thought it would be you."
Aria stood, still trembling. "She showed me the war. The darkness coming."
Lucian's jaw clenched. "Crimson Fang."
"No... worse. A vampire with red eyes. He was summoning beasts from shadow. The world was burning."
Lucian looked grim. "Then the prophecy is real. And we don't have much time."
She turned to him. "She said I had to find something. The Flameheart. And the Ember Crown."
Lucian's eyes widened. "Those are relics of the First Fire. Hidden long ago."
"Do you know where?"
"I might." He hesitated. "But the path won't be easy."
"I don't care," she said, fire already sparking in her fingertips. "I have to try."
He took her hand, threading their fingers together. "Then we go together. You won't face this alone."
She nodded.
And behind them, the fire blazed high into the night, as if answering her call.
Far away, in a fortress of obsidian stone, a figure stood in front of a massive mirror. Red eyes glowed in the reflection.
"She awakens," he murmured. "At last."
He turned to his generals. "Send the Shades. Begin the hunt."
Dark wings unfurled. The war had begun.