And then I saw her.
Elizabeth sat among the women, her blond hair cascading over her shoulders like strands of sunlight, catching the firelight and turning it to gold.She laughed softly, radiant in the flickering glow—unaware of the sorrow I carried, unaware that I might be the one to break her heart.
Her hands moved with effortless grace, kneading away the weariness from a woman’s shoulders with a gentleness that seemed to seep into the soul.Children danced around her, their giggles rising above the hum of conversation, drawn to her as moths to flame.They spun and leaped, small feet kicking up dust, until, as if sensing I watched, they paused—bright eyes turning toward me.
“Dancing Fire!Dancing Fire!”they called, their voices a chorus of joy and affection.
But I could not share in their delight.A knot tightened in my chest, each chant of my name a reminder of the betrayal clinging to my shadow.
I lingered at the firelight’s edge, trapped between duty and devotion, the weight of my oath pressing against my chest like armor.To hurt Elizabeth would be to sever the last thread of humanity that bound me.Her spirit had become part of our tribe’s soul, her touch mending more than wounds—restoring hope where none should remain.She was a healer not only of bodies but of hearts.She taught us to believe again, when belief felt like a forgotten dream.
The thought of betraying her trust was unthinkable.My hands—once steady in battle, unwavering as I drew my bow—now trembled at the thought of delivering pain to the one who had saved me from death’s cold grasp.
“Dancing Fire, come sit!”Elizabeth’s soft yet strong voice rose above the din, through the noise to find me.Her blue eyes met mine across the firelight, reflecting not just its warmth but the unspoken bond between us—a bond I was being commanded to break.
I took a breath, steeling myself.Each step I took toward her was a silent vow—I would be her shield, even if the storms I stood against were ones I had been ordered to summon.This I swore—not as a Timeborne, but as a man whose heart had been touched by an angel in mortal form.
She smiled as I neared, welcoming, radiant, unaware of the tempest hiding behind my heart.
“Join us,” she said, patting the ground beside her.
And though my place was at her side, my mind was leagues away—trapped in the war between the love that gave me strength and the destiny that demanded I sacrifice.
ChapterTwenty-Eight
ELIZABETH
The scent of sagebrush and sweetgrass mingled in the air as I crushed herbs between my fingers—a ritual that now felt as natural as breathing.Six moons had waxed and waned since my feet first pressed into the sacred earth of the tribal grounds, the land of those I came to know as the Sioux.Each step I took here forged a new path vastly different from the life I once knew.
“Like this, Elizabeth?”a soft voice asked beside me.
I saw Little Dove carefully mimicking my movements, her nimble hands working with the same reverence for the healing plants we nurtured.
“Exactly like that,” I said, offering her a smile.My voice still held the faint lilt of another world—a place I had all but left behind.We were preparing poultices for the winter months, yet every task was a lesson in resilience, survival, and the quiet strength of the community.The women here had become more than companions; they were my sisters in every way that mattered—the sinew to my bones, the peace to my once-unsettled spirit.
And yet, amid this newfound harmony, thoughts of Amir Hassan rose like endless tides in the quiet sea of my heart.Stoic.Resolute.He lingered within me, etched into memory with a clarity time could not blur.It was a silent longing, one I tucked beneath the rhythm of daily life, hidden like a note between the pages of a well-worn book.
“Elizabeth?”Mary’s voice pulled me from my reverie, her hand brushing lightly against mine.
“Apologies, I was…” I trailed off, shaking free from the web of memory.
Sky Raven stood beside her—a quiet strength, a testament to their growing bond.Their connection was as tangible as the crisp breath of fall that stirred the golden leaves at our feet, whispering promises of change.
“Are you ready for the eclipse?”Mary asked, her eyes alight with the same anticipation that seemed to ripple through the tribe.In the distance, the rhythmic beat of drums began to echo, a primal heartbeat growing louder as the celebration neared.
“Of course,” I lied, offering a smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes.
In truth, a deep-seated terror coiled in my chest.While others awaited the eclipse with wonder, I sensed only dread—a shadow poised to swallow the light.Where they saw beauty, I saw a harbinger—a darkness looming on the horizon.
But preparations pressed on, undeterred.Children’s laughter rang out as they wove strands of black and gold into their hair, mimicking the celestial dance of the sun and moon.Men erected viewing structures, determined to greet the skies with reverence.Elders gathered in circles, their voices weaving stories of eclipses past—tales steeped in mystery, awe, and ancient wisdom.
“Look at them,” Mary said, gesturing toward the bustling crowd.“They’ve been planning this for weeks.It’s going to be a beautiful ceremony.”
“Beautiful indeed,” I murmured, watching young braves paint their faces with ochre and charcoal, transforming into celestial spirits beneath the open sky.My hands drifted to rest on my belly, where life stirred—a secret dance all its own, known only to me.
“Are you alright?”Mary’s concern softened her tone.
“Merely the season’s chill settling in my bones,” I replied, though we both knew it wasn’t the autumn wind that had unsettled me.It was the eclipse—the timing.The fear gripped me like frost in my veins.
