Page 94 of The Last De Loughrey Dynasty

Once upon a time, there was a Doe and her Archer.

Doe, with a grace so silent, carried a fate both tragic and cruel,

A heart of grief was her Archer’s fuel.

Long before sorrow graced their paths,

There were two souls destined to hold on to love’s hands.

Her Archer seemed too stubborn to fall for her loving behaviour,

His mind’s struggle was her Archer’s failure.

Invisible strings bound by fate,

Ensured that love was eternally theirs to create.

When seasons changed and the night embraced a balmy air,

The Aquila constellation beaming for the heir.

A night commenced with the bud of hope in the hearts of their circle,

Finishes with grief destined to linger eternal.

Her Archer knew his Doe’s soul had been too pure of gloom.

Crimson stained his hands while the tragedy occurred,

The Doe’s heart took its final beat, and when his anguished scream pierced the silence,

All feelings in the Archer’s heart accrued painfully violent.

He wasn’t hers anymore, he was just an Archer.

A chill ran through my bones, and it felt like time had stopped as my breathing sped up, synchronising with the pounding of my heart.

Maisie’s grandmother wasn’t granted to see her sister’s death because it wasn’t her bloodline’s greatest sorrow that was yet to come. The spell showed her our fate.

The Doe and her Archer.

When I managed to raise my gaze, his hazel eyes were already fixed on me. I was overcome with emotion when I saw his expression, and a gasp escaped my lips.

He knew.

His eyebrows furrowed in terror, and his mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. Archer just stared at me, his eyes glazed with deep, unfixable pain.

“Why does it say your hands will be stained with my blood? Archer–” My voice broke as I tried to find the words, my mind shouting at me what the tale was trying to tell me.

He reached for my hand, but I pulled mine away before I allowed him to touch me. Pain crossed his features before he withdrew his hand and clenched his jaw.

My heart squeezed in agony, and the air suddenly seemed so thin in here.

“Because the prophecy we found the night we discovered this place says the last De Loughrey dynasty will fall by the hand of the Kingstone heir,” he said, his voice so shallow I could hear no emotion in it.

“That’s you and me. The Doe and her Archer.”

I should have been curious why Maisie decided that ‘Doe’ was a fitting name for me.

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