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She trailed off, but her point had been made.

Zaylin had mentioned that the war had caused a loss still felt to this day, but Alex had never imagined…

“Is that the same for Meyarins?” she asked, unable to recall seeing any immortal children running around Meya. But then she realised that couldn’t be the case, since Roka and Aven had been birthed to Astophe and Niida—both full-blooded Meyarins. Then there was Niyx and Mayra as brother and sister born to Cykor and Kosett; and Vaera as daughter to Gaiel; and… well, the list continued.

Even as she realised that it couldn’t be true, Aes Orsa was shaking her head back and forth. “Unlike us, Meyarins are able to reproduce with each other and thus create a pureblood child. But it’s a rare happenstance and a blessing to those fortunateenough to conceive—so much that one child is considered favoured by the stars, and two are thought a precious miracle.” She paused. “In all the ages their race lived here with us, there was never an instance of three siblings or more in the one family. I do not believe such a thing is possible.”

Alex thought over what she knew of the Meyarins and realised everything Aes Orsa had said fit. She’d only met two pairs of siblings—Roka and Aven, and Niyx and Mayra—in all her time in the past and present. And, again, she hadn’t seen any children in those times, either. She’d never given any thought to population control, but given their immortality, if they’d been breeding like rabbits over the years and only dying in the rare cases of lethal wounds, they would have exploded out of Meya long ago. Their inability to conceive with ease made much more sense.

“I’m sorry,” Alex said, frowning at her wayward thoughts. “That was the most unexpected tangent ever. Forgive me— I’m sure you didn’t call me over here to give me a lesson in reproduction.”

She certainly hoped not, at least.

With another soft smile from Aes Orsa and a quiet chuckle from Raife, the female Tia Auran said, “No, I wanted to meet you for another reason.”

She handed over a scrolled piece of parchment.

Curious, Alex opened it, only to see a familiar prophecy written in an equally familiar hand.

“I’ve seen this before,” Alex whispered, since it was a similar scroll to the one Lady Mystique had first handed her in Raelia, only this version didn’t have the translation written in the common tongue underneath, and the parchment was much better preserved.

“I made two copies when the words first came to me,” Aes Orsa said. “This is one of them. The second I gave to my sister upon the Meyarins’ banishment—on the eve of her exile.”

“First Oracle of Vardaesia…” Alex repeated softly, the title from earlier only now processing. “Was it—Did you—” She tried again. “Are you saying you’re the one who spoke the prophecy?”

Aes Orsa held her eyes and nodded. She then licked her lips before sharing a nervous look with Raife, who nodded encouragingly in return. Through this, apprehension began swirling within Alex, their behaviour setting her on edge.

Slowly, Aes Orsa turned back to Alex and hesitantly said, “The thing is, that’s not the prophecy I uttered. Or rather, that’s not all of it. And what it is, is slightly different to what it should be.”

Alex’s brow furrowed as she tried to comprehend the faltering statements. Swallowing against her suddenly dry mouth, she waved the parchment in her hands and said, “Wait—is this or is this not the prophecy?”

When Aes Orsa shared another look with Raife, this one not just nervous, but also revealing a hint of guilt mixed with regret, Alex croakily guessed, “It’s not, is it?”

“It’s… part of it,” Aes Orsa said. “But it’s also… not.”

Her heartrate stuttering, Alex whispered, “What does the real one say?”

Aes Orsa tentatively drew a second piece of parchment from her robe. Then another. And another. She handed all three new pages over to Alex, who took them with shaking fingers.

Glancing down, the first thing she noticed was that they were written in a different hand—instead of a flowing calligraphy, the words, while still penned in an ancient script, were neat and efficient. But that was all she took in before she began to read, each new line causing her breathing to become shallow while her heart conversely increased in speed. But still, she couldn’t stop reading, the translation coming automatically to her mind.

The day will come and be at hand

For changes most timely

When hails a girl of mortal blood

Touched by destiny

Both Called and Chosen from beyond

Straight through the Library

She’ll make her foe (but once a friend)

While on her past journey

When present calls and life restarts