Chapter 9 “The Queens Prophecy “

The light fades slowly, curling back into the walls like breath pulled from the air. My knees are still trembling from the trial, my hands faintly glowing with the remnants of the power I didn’t know I had. The silence in the throne hall feels heavier now, as if the very stones are waiting to hear what comes next.

The Queen studies me in that unblinking, otherworldly way of hers. She looks unchanged, but something in the air has shifted. It’s like the world itself has taken a step closer.

“Do you feel it?” she asks quietly.

I swallow, my voice barely more than a whisper. “Feel what?”

“The hum in your veins. The world listening to you. The balance trembling at your touch.”

I glance down at my hands. The faint light still dances there, silver and alive, threading through the lines of my skin like living starlight. “What… what is happening to me?”

Her lips curve, not in kindness, but in knowing. “You are what the storm awakened, Elera. You carry the blood of two realms — the power to open the gate and the will to destroy it.”

My chest tightens. “Destroy it? Why would I ever—”

“Because love,” she cuts in softly, “is the most dangerous force that exists. It binds and it burns. And you, child of moon and storm, will one day be forced to choose whether your love saves both realms… or ends them.”

The air seems to still. My heart thunders. “You’re saying I could destroy everything?”

“I am saying that you already can.”

She steps closer, and I can smell the faint scent of rain and ash clinging to her robes. “Long before your birth, the realms were one. Humans and fae walked under the same sun, spoke the same tongue. But greed tore them apart. The bridge between worlds was sealed by one of our own — a queen who loved too deeply and feared too much. The same blood that sealed that bridge flows in your veins.”

I shake my head. “That doesn’t make sense. I’m just—”

“Human?” she finishes, tilting her head. “You were never just human. The moment the storm took you, your power woke — and so did the Gate. Did you think your disappearance was an accident?”

Her words hit like thunder. “So you brought me here?”

“No.” Her gaze hardens, almost sorrowful. “The storm did. The world chose you.”

I feel dizzy, my thoughts spiraling. “If what you’re saying is true… then why me? Why not someone stronger, someone who actually understands this?”

The Queen’s eyes gleam with something ancient and vast. “Because only one born of love and loss can hold the balance between light and shadow. You are both — the storm and the calm that follows.”

Her words linger in the air like smoke.

Then she turns, her robes trailing light behind her as she moves toward the great window at the end of the hall. Beyond it, the Faewild stretches endlessly — glowing rivers, silver forests, skies stitched with stars that pulse in rhythm with the earth itself.

“When you return to your realm, the bond between worlds will tremble,” she says, her voice distant, almost wistful. “Old powers will wake. Shadows that were once banished will stir. And you, Elera, will stand at the center of it all.”

I step closer, the air colder now. “You’re talking about a war.”

She doesn’t deny it. “Every prophecy has many paths. Some end in peace. Others in ruin. Which one you walk depends not on your strength, but your heart.”

A shiver runs through me. “What do I have to do?”

“When the time comes,” she says softly, “you must decide what world you will save — and who you will sacrifice to do it.”

The words strike deep, sharp as glass. “Sacrifice?”

The Queen turns to face me fully. Her eyes glimmer with starlight and sorrow. “All bridges demand a price. Remember that, Elera of Two Realms.”

Her tone softens, almost a whisper now. “The mark you bear is not just power — it is a tether. A link to the storm that chose you. When it burns, you will know the gate is waking again. Follow it, but beware… the shadow that follows you wears a familiar face.”

A familiar face. The words freeze in my chest. My thoughts jump instantly to Liam — his voice, his eyes, the way his touch has always steadied me.

“What do you mean?” I ask quickly. “Who—”

But the Queen is already fading. The light around her grows brighter, dissolving her into shimmering motes that drift like fireflies. Her voice echoes faintly as the hall begins to fade.

“You will understand soon, storm-born. The heart you trust most may one day be your undoing.”

And then she’s gone.

The silence that follows feels endless.

I stand there, trying to breathe, but the air feels too heavy. My pulse beats against the mark glowing faintly on my collarbone. A tether, she said. A link to the storm.

When it burns, I’ll know the gate is waking again.

My thoughts are a blur — the prophecy, the storm, the war between realms. And the last thing she said — that the shadow wears a familiar face.

Liam’s face flashes in my mind, and a cold ache spreads through me. No. It couldn’t mean him. It can’t.

A low hum ripples through the air then, soft but insistent. The dawn light spills through the windows, turning the silver marble golden. Mira steps out from the shadows, silent as ever.

“It’s time,” she says.

“For what?” My voice is barely steady.

“For your return. The Queen has opened the gate. At sunrise, your world awaits.”

I glance once more at the empty throne. The light that once burned there has faded, but I can still feel the Queen’s presence, woven into the walls, the air, the rhythm of my heartbeat.

As Mira leads me down the long corridor, I look out through the arched windows at the realm I’ve come to know — its strange, haunting beauty, its endless light. A part of me doesn’t want to leave. But the other part — the one that remembers Grandma’s laughter and Liam’s voice — pulls me forward.

When we reach the gate, the air trembles. The portal glows like molten silver, alive and whispering.

“Will I ever come back?” I ask softly.

Mira looks at me for a long moment. “When the mark burns,” she says, “and the storm calls your name again.”

She steps back.

The wind rises, carrying the scent of rain. I take one last breath — of magic, of light, of everything I can’t explain — and step through.

The world turns white.

And somewhere beyond the veil, thunder begins to roll.