Page 85 of The Violet Raven

Before the tension can fully settle, a side door into the sitting room swings open.

James steps in first, moving with a quiet, deliberate stillness that makes the hairs on my arms prickle. Alex is close behind him, his presence a storm barely contained.

His gaze sweeps over the room, sharp and assessing, lingering on every face until it lands on Triona. The sight of her—broken, fragile, wounded—stops him cold.

His boots echo against the floorboards as he crosses to her in a rush. And then the unthinkable happens.

A sob so rare and powerful escapes him. It turns the air into glass.

A man I’ve never seen shed a tear crumples to his knees beside her, trembling as he gathers her hand in his own. His shoulders quake, but still he holds on, as if his touch alone might keep her tethered to this world.

“Ellen,” he chokes out. She moves to his side, her own face a mask of grief. He meets her eyes, and the years of love, pain, and shared battles speak in silence. He presses a kiss to her forehead, their foreheads meeting in a shared moment of sorrow and strength.

The tears vanish as if scorched away. A darkness settles over him, not of grief, but of purpose, forged like iron in the fire. His jaw locks, and his eyes blaze with a fury that no one dares to challenge.

We watch as a husband, father, warrior, rises from the ground. More determined than ever.

“There’s something we’ve kept from ye all. About Triona. About what’s coming. But there’s no more hidin’ it now.”

Ellen hesitates, glancing at James, who gives her a small nod. “Some years past, we received confidential information from one now departed—a secret concerning our sweet lass. She’s long since been tied to a prophecy. One we’ve been guardin’ against for years. And tonight…”

She swallows hard, then looks at each of us. “Tonight, evil comes, as it was foretold.”

“What’s the prophecy?” I ask, my voice rougher than I meant it to be.

“It’s a warnin’. And a truth,” James intones.

Ellen steps forward, closing her eyes for a moment before beginning her recitation. Each word falls slowly and deliberately from her lips, as though the phrase is indelibly inscribed into her memory.

In whispering woods where shadows play, a life unfolds with grief’s first day.

Some souls in solemn vigil bend, their knees to ground, their wills to mend.

Nineteen moons shall orbit bright, ‘round the sun’s commanding light.

Death will come within a day, the sacrifice will cause dismay.

In secret, treachery begins to rise, charting out her fate’s surprise.

Along the path, she’ll find one soul, its love, a weight, a heavy toll.

In every beat, their souls combined, a tapestry of stars designed.

Once contact graces trio’s sight, inner strength unchains with might.

Called by powers, true and bold, she journeys forth to claim her hold.

Upon the sacred ground, she’ll stand, with fate’s dark price in trembling hand.

My chest tightens. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Ellen clasps her hands tighter in front of her, guilt flickering across her face. James exhales heavily, rubbing a hand over his jaw before he finally speaks.

“It means we should’ve seen this comin’.” His voice is rough, edged with something bitter—something that sounds a lot like regret. “We kent, as Triona’s nineteenth year came, that the clock was tickin’ toward this moment. Toward whatever was meant to happen.”

Ellen nods, her voice quieter, but just as heavy. “We dinnae have all the answers, which is why ye must go away. Alex will lead the way. But the prophecy speaks of a chosen soul who bears both a great gift and a terrible burden. A force that can either unite or destroy. She’s always been special.”

James meets my glare, his own expression carved from stone. “We thought we had more time.” His gaze flickers to Triona, pale and unmoving, then back to me. “We were wrong.”