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The words rang out like a bell, louder than shouting.

"Leeches ,every one of you. You think of no one but yourselves. Your prophecy. Your fears. Your bloodlines. How cruel do you have to be not to see what you're doing to the people you use?"

No one moved.

"You brought me here to serve, not to live...a child of twelve," she whispered. "You hid your prejudice behind purpose. You cloaked your manipulation in tradition. You all sit there-so proud, so righteous-but you're nothing but empty shells. Shame on you."

Then she turned to her.

To Lia.

Lia, who had said nothing. Who stood off to the side, pale and shaken like she wasn't the centre of some twisted game.

Seren walked right up to her, her gaze unwavering.

"You can have him," she said softly.

A gasp from the crowd.

"I don't want him anymore."

Hagan moved before he could think, reaching out instinctively-please-

She flinched before he could touch her.

As if his touch might burn her. As if she had forgotten what it meant to be touched with love and remembered only pain.

He froze. His hand hovered inches from her arm.

"I need to be alone," she said to no one in particular.

Her voice was soft, final.

Hagan stepped forward, a faint noise in his throat. "Seren-"

She turned her face slightly, enough to stop him without words. She still hadn't looked him in the eye.

"I said alone."

Toward the door. She didn't know where to go.

She walked past them all-Draken still kneeling, the Oracle still stunned, the tribe starting to whisper-and slipped through the longhouse doors into the silver hush of twilight. For once, the constant buzz of voices in her head didn't intrude. There was only a ringing in her ears.

Veyr moved after her, hesitating only once to glance at Draken, whose head was still bowed.

Then he followed Seren into the evening light, the door closing behind them with a soft, definitive click.

No one dared speak.

Hagan just stood there, hand still outstretched.

And finally – slowly - he lowered it.

Seren didn't remember much of the walk to the cottage.

The world passed in fragments-blurred, dreamlike. The soft buzz of bees somewhere nearby.

The far-off rustle of birds taking flight. The shrill chatter of a red squirrel, agitated by her passage. She was aware of it all, and none of it.