“Ah, Lazarus,” I greeted without turning, recognizing the deliberate tread.“I am honored by your presence.”
“I’m glad,” came the low rumble of his voice—deep, commanding, yet not unkind.“I’ve come to ask how Elizabeth fares.”
I hesitated, her face rising in my mind like a flame in the darkness—sky-blue eyes reflecting quiet purpose, her existence a strength within our community.“She’s adapted to our ways,” I replied, masking my tangled emotions beneath a warrior’s stoicism.“She is preparing to have her twins.”
“Twins…” Lazarus murmured, almost to himself, before his gaze met mine.“Does your father believe they will be Timebornes?”
“Father sees great potential in them,” I answered, pride flickering despite the storm within.“He believes they will be powerful warriors.”
“Your father is correct,” Lazarus said, his tone weighted, pressing on the air between us.“But I did not come merely to speak of prophecy.”
He stepped closer, and the forest seemed to still around us, holding its breath.When he spoke again, his voice was like stone breaking.
“When Elizabeth gives birth… you will give her only one son.”
His words struck me—not a blow of flesh, but of prophecy, cutting and sudden, threatening to shatter the fragile balance I had fought so hard to maintain.The forest, once a sanctuary, now felt suffocating.The trees loomed like prison bars, binding me to a fate I could neither accept nor escape.
My legs gave way beneath its weight, the words reverberating like thunder.“No!”Raw and unrestrained, the denial tore from my throat.“I can’t do that!”
Lazarus stood unflinching, a monolith amid the storm of my anguish.“You will,” he said, voice as immutable as the turning of seasons.“This is a command.”
He stepped into the shattered silence between us, his gaze cold and unwavering.“One of the twins will carry darkness—like his father.The other… is the reincarnation of Armand.That child shall remain with her.”
The world spun.Greens and browns blurred into chaos, the forest twisting into something unfamiliar.My bow slipped from my fingers, the arrow thudding silently into the loam.I could feel it then—the crushing weight of destiny pressing upon me, heavier than any burden I had borne.
“Please, Lazarus…” The plea escaped me like a breath stolen by the wind, barely audible.“I can’t betray her like this.”Her image filled my mind—Elizabeth, strong yet delicate, like a prairie bloom resilient against the storm.Her soft voice, her healing touch… she had become part of me, woven into the fabric of my soul.
But Lazarus was relentless.His hard and unflinching eyes pierced through my despair.“You must see the larger picture,” he said, his voice like iron.“One will stay with her.The other will be mine.”
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle into my bones like stone.
“That is not a request.It is an order.”
An order.The word opened like a chasm at my feet, threatening to swallow me whole.To defy him was to risk everything—our people, mission, and chance to reclaim what was lost.Yet in the deepest part of me, where the fire of my name still burned, I knew this command would scorch her world to ash.
The forest spun around me, the familiar trunks of oak and birch blurring into a haze as Lazarus’ voice echoed like a curse in my ears.“I can’t do this,” I gasped, reaching out to balance myself, fingers digging into the rough bark of a nearby tree.
Lazarus stepped closer, his authority both an anchor and a burden.“I know you care for her, Dancing Fire,” he said, the timbre of his voice firm.“But we are fighting for the greater good.To restore Solaris, to reclaim what is rightfully ours—this is the path we must walk.”
His words were meant to fortify me, to harden my resolve—but they only twisted the knife deeper.I closed my eyes, seeking refuge in the memories of her—the way her laughter drifted like music across the prairie, the strength in her gaze that outshone the evening star.
I remembered the day I found her—wounded and alone—how I had gathered her into my arms, her fragile strength trembling against my chest.Her spirit had reached into mine, igniting a flame I could neither deny nor extinguish.
And now, that fire threatened to consume me.
And the bear… that monstrous beast, towering above us, death gleaming in its claws.I could still feel the searing rush of blood from the gashes in my side, the terror that gripped my throat like a vice.But her hands had saved me.With her healer’s touch and unshakable tenacity, Elizabeth had faced fear and defied it.In those moments, under the shadow of death, I began to fall—not from weakness, but into a love I could never speak aloud.
“Her life is entwined with yours,” Lazarus’ voice said, pulling me from the tide of memory and grounding me in grim reality.“But the path ahead requires sacrifice.”
Sacrifice.The word settled in my stomach like a stone.How could I cause such pain to someone who had given me nothing but healing?Elizabeth—whose touch had closed my wounds and opened my heart.
“Please, Lazarus,” I whispered, each word a struggle against the storm swelling inside me.“There must be another way.”
But deep down, I knew there wasn’t.Not if we were to save our world.The fate of Solaris demanded a price, and I was being asked to pay it—not with blood, but with betrayal.
With a heavy sigh, I turned toward the path home, my steps leaden with the burden I carried.Elizabeth’s image in my mind—a beacon calling me back, and now, a reminder of the storm I would bring to her doorstep.
As I emerged from the dense thicket, the village unfolded before me—a living tapestry of warmth and life.The scent of roasting venison filled the air, mingling with the crackle of the central fire and the rhythmic chants of the evening gathering.Children’s laughter echoed through the trees, the sky above gold with the last light of day.
