"Valerian?" I repeat after nobody answers me, all giving each other a series of worried and voiceless looks. "Why would my mother do this? What good could it serve her?" I ask, my voice cracking with exasperation.
Giving me a tight lipped smile, Valerian sets down his cup.
First he looks to Alastor, then to me, his eyes intense, searching, perhaps sifting through our minds for thoughts or feelings that would give him the answers he seeks. Then he sighs, leaning further back on his chair as he braces his arms together.
"None of her actions would do anyone any good so far, but she has a motive. It's about the prophecy," he says at last, and just like that, the entire room goes silent, waiting with baited breath as that single slips into the air.
Prophecy.
So this is finally it. This god damned prophecy that I have heard so little about.
