The ruins stood eerily silent, the presence of the Order lingering like a ghostly imprint. Nyssa could still feel the weight of their words pressing against her chest.
"The prophecy is not about your death… but your rebirth."
Her fingers twitched as she clutched the dagger they had left behind. It felt colder now, heavier—as if it carried a truth she wasn't ready to face.
Caelan's voice broke through her thoughts. "We're leaving."
Nyssa looked up at him. His expression was hard, but his grip on her wrist was gentle.
"Not yet." She pulled back. "There's still more I need to understand."
Caelan exhaled sharply. "Understand what, Nyssa? That they want you to sacrifice yourself for some prophecy? That they're playing with fate as if people's lives are pieces on a board?"
Nyssa hesitated. "What if they're right?"
Caelan's jaw clenched. "They're not."
She searched his face. He was angry—not just at the Order, but at the idea of losing her.
Something inside her tightened.
"I need to know what rebirth means," she whispered. "If there's even the slightest chance that I can change the future without dying—"
Caelan cut her off, his voice low and fierce. "We will find another way. But I will not let you destroy yourself for this."
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Then, a cold breeze stirred through the ruins.
Nyssa shivered, and for the first time, she felt something strange beneath her skin.
A pulse.
A whisper.
A shift in the air.
Her visions had always come suddenly—overpowering her like a storm. But this time, it was different.
It was as if something inside her was awakening.
Nyssa's breath hitched.
"Caelan… something's happening."
Before he could respond, her knees buckled.
Darkness swallowed her whole.
Nyssa opened her eyes and gasped.
She was floating.
All around her, a vast expanse of stars stretched endlessly. It was neither the past nor the future—it was something else entirely.
Then, a figure appeared.
A woman.
She was draped in shimmering white robes, her face hidden behind a silver veil. She radiated power.
Nyssa's heart pounded. "Who are you?"
The woman's voice was soft, yet it echoed all around. "You are at the crossroads of fate, child."
Nyssa swallowed. "Is this about my rebirth?"
The woman stepped closer. "Yes. And only you can decide its path."
The stars around them shifted. Images flickered—two different futures.
One showed Omala in flames, Caelan lying lifeless in the ruins.
The other…
Nyssa's breath caught.
The other showed a throne bathed in silver light, and she was the one sitting upon it.
Not as Caelan's wife. Not as a queen.
As something more.
Her voice trembled. "What am I supposed to do?"
The veiled woman reached out, pressing a single hand against Nyssa's chest.
A searing heat flooded through her.
"You must choose, Seer."
Darkness crashed over her again.
Nyssa gasped as she jolted back into reality.
Caelan was gripping her shoulders, his face etched with worry. "Nyssa! Say something!"
She was trembling, her heart racing.
She looked into his eyes—the man she loved, the man she was destined to save.
But deep down, she knew…
She might not be his queen.
She might be something else entirely.