Page 119 of The Curse of Golden Blood
I reached for him, my enhanced senses picking up the subtle wrongness in his scent. The metallic tang of corruption.The shadow beneath his skin that spoke of poison spreading through his system.
"Because of this." I touched his chest, right over his heart. Through the fabric of his shirt, I could see them. The black veins that had been climbing toward his throat like grasping fingers. "The rot. I could see it killing you."
He looked down at where my hand rested, and his breath caught.
The marks were still there, but they'd changed. Instead of the angry black lines that had spread like infection, they were fading to pale silver. Still visible, but somehow contained. Held in check by forces beyond either of our understanding.
"It’s hold on me is fading," he whispered, wonder creeping into his voice. "How is that possible?"
I smiled, feeling power dance beneath my fingertips where they touched his skin. "I don't know. But I can feel it. Whatever brought me back, whatever changed me, it's negating the corruption in your blood."
He caught my hand, pressing it flat against his chest. His heart beat strong and steady beneath my palm, the rhythm synchronizing with my own enhanced pulse.
"You're a miracle, Miralyte." His voice carried the weight of centuries of pain and loss. "A literal miracle."
"I'm what I always should have been." I flexed my wings, marveling at the way they responded to my thoughts. "What I would have been if my mother hadn't hidden it from the world."
The door burst open. I spun toward the sound, my body moving faster than it ever had before. Every muscle coiled tight, ready to fight or run.
But it was just Narietta.
She stopped dead when she saw me. Her mouth fell open. Her eyes went wide, staring at the wings spread behind my shoulders.
"Mother above," she whispered. "The vision came true. All of it."
"What vision?" I asked.
"Miralyte with wings. The golden blood bringing back the dead. The war that's about to tear everything apart." Narietta's voice was flat, matter-of-fact. Like she was reporting weather instead of prophecy. "Ylvena knows. She's seen the same visions."
My stomach dropped. "She's coming."
"Not in the way you think." Narietta's voice carried the weight of someone who'd seen too many futures unfold in blood. "Ylvena doesn't charge into battle like some barbarian warlord. She's cunning. Patient. She'll find another way."
Zydar moved to the window, his hands gripping the stone ledge until his knuckles went white. "What did you see exactly?"
"Fragments. Pieces of what might come." Narietta closed her eyes, like she was pulling the visions back from whatever dark place they lived. "She knows about your transformation now. But she won't risk a direct assault on Thunder Court."
"Then how?" I asked, though part of me already dreaded the answer.
"She'll use what she's always used. Politics. Manipulation. She'll turn our allies against us, make demands we can't refuse." Narietta opened her eyes, and they were haunted. "She'll make it so we have no choice but to hand you over."
The room went silent except for the distant rumble of thunder. I could feel the storm responding to Zydar's emotions, clouds gathering beyond the windows like an army of their own.
"Over my dead body," he said quietly.
"That's exactly what she's counting on." Narietta stepped closer, "Don't you see? She killed Ciradyl but left Miralyte alive for a reason. She knew. She knew everything."
I felt my blood turn to ice.
"What do you mean?" I whispered.
Narietta's eyes were haunted, like she was seeing the future and the past colliding in ways that made her sick. "She knew how you and Zydar were fated. She's known for years. The only way to truly kill you, Zydar, was through Miralyte. When two souls are truly bound, their deaths become intertwined. Harm one, and the other follows. "
My wings trembled against my back. Ciradyl's face flashed through my memory. The way she'd smiled before everything went dark. The way she'd whispered my name like a prayer.
"She killed my sister to isolate me," I whispered, the words tasting like ashes. "To make sure I had nowhere else to turn."
"Hostages. Innocent lives hanging in the balance. The other courts forced to choose between their survival and yours." Narietta's voice was grim. "She's been planning this for months. Maybe years."
