For the first time in her centuries of existence...the One-Eyed Witch felt something dangerously close to uncertainty.
It was not fear.
Nehum had buried fear long ago, alongside countless kings, warrior, and witches who had underestimated her. Fear was a weakness she had carved out of herself centuries earlier.
But uncertainty...that was different. It lingered like an unwelcome shadow at the edge of her thoughts.
She remained seated before the dying fire inside her hut, her lone eye fixed upon the empty doorway through which Vaelric had disappeared only moments ago.
Everything had changed today. It didn't change because of the prophecy, nor because Lyara Nyerewyn was somehow destined to awaken.
But because of the boy. No...not a boy anymore. He was now something else...something she could neither predict nor control.
