Page 71 of Daughter of the Serpent

Would her magic respond now?

Or had it only ever been a reckless, untamed thing, rising not by her command but by sheer survival?

Then there was the obvious - that despite the truths he had told her, the gods had still deemed her unworthy at the casting.

The runes had refused to reveal her fate.

Her fingers curled into fists.

Was all of this fornothing?

"What is it?" His voice cut through her scrambled thoughts.

She hesitated, gripping the words tightly before finally releasing them, barely more than a whisper. "The rune casting…despite my ability to cast, I was deemed unworthy."

His expression darkened as he stepped even closer - close enough that the space between them seemed to shift, mold into something more raw, intimate. She stiffened automatically, fighting the urge to step back. She never let anyone this close, so near her face, her eye - her flaw.

Until him.

Vulnerability coiled tight in her chest as his gaze swept over her, lingering - searching. Watching. Reading every flicker of hesitation in her breath, every shift in her stance. It was as if he were sifting through her very being, piecing her apart, unraveling her defenses in silent scrutiny.

Could he see the doubt clawing its way to the surface? The hesitation etched into the lines of her face?

She had spent so much of her life believing she was nothing - meant nothing. A dreamer who longed for power but never worthy enough to claim it. And now, standing on the precipice of something greater, at the threshold of a future she could finally shape - she faltered.

She felt like a fraud. A pretender.

If the gods had already deemed her unworthy at the casting, how could she ever hope to survive the trials ahead?

Was she a fool to believe she could outlast them?

A slow exhale left his lips, misting in the cool air. Then, unexpectedly, he lifted his hand, his fingers grazing her cheek. The heat of his touch bled into her skin - not just warmth, but something more, something unraveling. As if he were casting a spell, peeling back the armor she had spent years fortifying, stripping her bare beneath his gaze.

Her pulse quickened.

"Sylvie…”

Her name, spoken in a way that sent something deep inside her unraveling further. As if it were something precious. Something that mattered. She had never heard it spoken in such a way, and it made her heart tug at her ribs.

"The gods placed you on this path for a reason…” He hesitated then, something unspoken passing through his gaze. “Will you not see it through?"

Could she?

She swallowed hard.

Despite herself, she knew she wanted this.

Wanted to prove - to him, to the gods, to herself - that she was worthy.

But could she deliver?

Could she rise to meet the power she had spent her entire life yearning for?

Her hand dropped, before she could even begin.

He moved in behind her, the shift of his body sending a shiver through her. A hand at her waist. His mouth at her ear.

“You need to see beyond your doubt, beyond what you’ve been told is certain,” his voice was low, steady, curling through her like an incantation, like a secret whispered, a precious string of words threaded just for her. "Believe in you. Believe in your power. Magic has chosen you, Sylvie. If you cannot trust yourself, then trust in it.”