Page 19 of A Fate in Flames

She flinched like I’d struck her.

“I’m sorry, Elira.”Her voice was thick with remorse.“I was selfish.I wanted a child of my own.Wanted to make your father happy.I—” she paused, the corners of her mouth pulling down.“I wantedyou.”

The fight drained from me.I sank to my knees.

“You could’ve told me sooner,” I whispered.“We could’ve prepared.Could’ve found a way to break the bargain.”

“There is no breaking a bargain with the Firewalker.”

“The dreams,” I murmured—more to myself than her.“The nightmares… they’re connected to this, aren’t they?”

My mothers head jerked up.“What dreams?Elira, what have you seen?”

I shook the thought away.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?Why wait until now, when there’s no time left to fix this?”

“I tried.Believe me, Elira.I tried.”She wiped away fresh tears spilling down her cheeks.“But every time I tried to say the words, it was like my body refused.My tongue would freeze, and my throat would close.”She reached for my hand, clutching it desperately.“I didn’t want to hurt you.”

I swallowed against the lump forming in my throat.

“Is that why you never wanted me to see a Seer?”

She nodded, looking away.“I was afraid they would confirm my worst fear.That you’d find out.”

Her eyes drifted toward the window, where the last golden hues of sunlight bled into the horizon.Long shadows stretched across the room, reaching for us like dark fingers.

The day is almost over.And for the first time in my life, I had no idea what tomorrow would bring.

I swept my hand through my hair and exhaled a heavy breath.

“I understand why you did it.”

Despite my anger, I meant it.What would I have done, after years of longing?Would I have been stronger than her?

“I understand.”I reached out, tucking a stray lock behind her ear.She leaned into the touch, her lips curving into the barest hint of a smile, but the shadow of twenty-six years of fear remained in her eyes.

I pressed my forehead to hers, closing my own, as if the contact alone could absorb some of the pain between us.

“I’ll figure it out,” I murmured, trying to sound more confident than I felt.“Don’t worry.”

She nodded, though the hesitation lingered.

“But first,” I stood, pulling her to her feet, “we should eat.”

We sat together at the small wooden table, sharing a meal in the glow of candlelight.The stew was rich and warming, a taste of home and comfort even as fear lingered at the edges of our consciousness.

“Tell me about the night I was born,” I said, setting down my spoon.

My mother’s eyes grew distant.

“You came into this world during the worst storm we’d ever had.The midwife could not reach us, so your father delivered you himself.”A small smile touched her lips.“You didn’t cry, not even once.You simply opened your eyes and looked at us like you’d been watching and waiting all along.”

I reached out across the table, taking her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

We spoke of childhood stories, foolish memories, fragments of laughter that lived somewhere in the corners of our past.Anything to push away the looming shadow of tomorrow.

I tossed and turned beneath the covers, sleep slipping through my fingers like sand.The gnawing sensation in my gut refused to settle.I pressed my hand to my stomach, swallowing back the nausea.Forcing steady breaths that didabsolutely nothingto soothe the turmoil.