Page 18 of Bound in Flames (The Savage Hearts #1)

Chapter 18

Cleo

A charged silence fell over the central hall, but the tension remained thick in the air. I sat by the hearth, my hands warming in front of the fire, still trying to process what had happened. The orcs watched me, a mix of curiosity and suspicion, though the Seer’s words had quelled any outright hostility.

The prophesied shaman. The title felt foreign and heavy. I didn’t know what it truly meant or why it had been bestowed upon me, but the weight of it pressed down on my chest. Seer Arna’s eyes hadn’t left mine, her gaze sharp and knowing. She could see more than what I showed; that much was clear.

Dex sat beside me, his presence grounding me as my thoughts raced. His hand gently brushed against my back, prompting me to speak. My gaze found his, seeking the quiet resolve I knew he’d offer, before looking back at Seer Arna.

"You said I’m the prophesied shaman," I began, my voice hesitant. "But I don’t understand why. Why me? What is this prophecy?"

Seer Arna studied me for a long moment, her face impassive, though her eyes gleamed with knowledge. She slowly folded her hands in her lap and let out a measured breath.

"The prophecy has been passed down through the ages, from the time before we were driven into the alps, when we still roamed the forests and valleys. It speaks of a shaman who will return when the balance of the world is thrown into chaos. When darkness threatens to consume all."

I listened intently, my heart racing in my chest. Seer Arna’s voice was steady, yet there was an urgency in her tone, as if the prophecy had always been more than just words. It was a promise.

“The prophecy foretells of one with hair of fire”—her gaze flicked to my bright red hair—"whose presence would be marked by the magic of the earth. This shaman, born outside of our people but tied to the ancient ways, will carry the power to restore the balance between life and death, creation and destruction. The one who walks between these forces will lead our people back to the lands that were stolen from us. Your power will heal not only the orcs, but the scars of a broken world torn apart by darkness.”

I could only stare at her as my thoughts began to spin out of control. The prophecy’s words painted a vivid reflection—my hair, my magic—binding me to an ancient fate. How could I be that shaman?

Dex’s hand tightened in mine, grounding me. “You’re not alone in this, Cleo. You’ve felt the magic. You’ve already started walking the path."

I swallowed hard, my throat tight. "But... How could I be the one they’ve waited for?" I asked, looking at Seer Arna. "I barely understand this magic. I didn’t even know the truth about the war until the journey here.”

Seer Arna’s eyes softened and she offered a comforting smile. “The prophecy says nothing of having all the answers. Only that you will bring balance to a world teetering on the edge of chaos. That is your destiny. To guide us to restore what has been lost."

I felt a shiver run across my skin as her words wrapped around me like a mantle, heavy with expectations I wasn’t sure I could meet. Guide them? I had never thought of myself as a leader, let alone someone capable of restoring balance to anything.

"Why do the orcs think I’m the one who can help them return to their lands?" My voice trembled. "How do you know it’s me ?"

She leaned forward, her voice growing softer, as if sharing a secret. "Because, Cleo, the magic within you is not just a tool for battle or survival. It is the magic of life itself. Of the earth and all its creatures. The prophecy speaks of one who will restore the lands. That is why our people believe in you."

I blinked, the enormity of what she was saying sinking in. The orcs didn’t just see me as a protector or a warrior; they saw me as their hope. The hope of reclaiming their ancestral lands, the hope of leaving their sanctuary and returning to the forests and valleys they had once called home.

But... I don’t know if I’m strong enough.” My voice barely rose above a whisper.

Seer Arna rose from her seat. She took a deep breath, and then, to my surprise, she began to recite something melodic and ancient.

When the earth is torn, and the sky burns red,

And the balance falters, and the green is dead,

From the lands of men shall a fire arise,

With hair of flame and storm in her eyes.

Her voice carried through the hall, and as the words settled, the other orcs around the room began to join in. Their deep voices blended with hers, creating a chorus that echoed off the stone walls, filling the room with the weight of the prophecy.

She shall walk with the magic deep in her veins,

And call to the earth through its roots and rains.

The shaman will come, to heal and to fight,

To bring back the dawn after endless night.

Her hands shall mend where the darkness has spread,

Her touch will raise what the shadows left dead.

She’ll stand with the earth, between life and decay,

And lead the lost home, to the break of day.

The balance she brings will shatter the chains,

Of exile and fear, of sorrow and pains.

Through mountains and rivers, to forests untamed,

The shaman shall guide, and the world reclaimed.

Hair of fire, eyes of the earth,

She will rise from roots of birth,

With hands that mend and flames that guide,

She will stand where fate divides.

She will stand against the dark,

With the earth as her spark,

Through her blood, through her pain,

She will bring us home again.

The weight of the orcs’ expectations hung heavy in the silence that followed, and I could feel all eyes on me, waiting. The crackling fire was the only sound to break the silence, its warmth flickering shadows across stone walls.

Seer Arna stepped closer, keeping her voice soft. “That is why, Cleo, you are the one who will mend the world’s broken threads. The earth chose you for a reason.”

I stared at Arna, her words crashing over me like an unstoppable tide, threatening to pull me under. I hadn’t asked for this. I never sought to be anyone’s savior, never imagined myself entwined in a prophecy far greater than I could comprehend. Dex had brought me here to learn, to understand the magic simmering beneath my skin, but he hadn’t told me what it meant to them. What I meant to them. The weight of it settled in my chest, heavy and suffocating, and my pulse thundered in my ears.

Five things you can see. My eyes darted around the hall for something to hold onto. The flickering firelight cast restless shadows along the stone walls. The worn leather of an orc’s boots, scuffed from battle. Deep grooves carved into the wooden table, telling silent stories of years past. Dex’s dark silhouette beside me, his shoulders tense with unspoken weight. My trembling hands, clenched in my lap.

Four things you can touch. I pressed my palms against the cold stone bench beneath me. The coarse fabric of my dress. My nails bit into my palms. Dex’s warmth beside me.

Three things you can hear. The low murmur of voices. The fire crackling, popping softly in the heavy silence. Dex’s even breaths.

Two things you can smell. Burning wood filled my nose. The faint scent of sweat and leather, a reminder of the warriors around me.

One thing you can taste. The bitter tang of fear that clung to the back of my throat.

Bit by bit, the storm inside me ebbed, my breaths still shaky but no longer desperate. Dex’s hand brushed against mine in concern. The technique worked, as it always did, grounding me in the present and pushing back the tide of panic that had threatened to consume me. My breathing slowed, the tightness in my chest easing little by little. I swallowed hard, willing my expression to remain neutral. I hoped the fear that had nearly undone me wasn’t written across my face for all to see. When I finally lifted my gaze, it met Arna’s. There, in the depths of her knowing eyes, I saw a quiet kindness, an understanding that made my stomach twist. She knew. Of course she knew. And somehow, that made it both better and worse.

"You don’t need to be ready now," Seer Arna replied. "But you will be. You have already taken the first step."

Dex’s hand tightened around mine, and I turned to meet his gaze. It held a quiet resolve, steadying my own doubts. "We’ll walk this path together, mate.”

I nodded, though my heart still raced with uncertainty. I didn’t know how I would fulfill this prophecy or how I could possibly lead an entire people. I knew they weren’t asking me to do it all at once. They were asking me to walk the path and to learn, grow, and to become the shaman they believed I could be.

Seer Arna gave me a final nod, her eyes filled with something like pride. "Rest now," she said. "You will need your strength for the journey ahead."

I nodded, exhaustion washing over me. The events of the day—the battles, the magic, the prophecy—had taken their toll, and now more than ever, I needed sleep.

Dex helped me to my feet, guiding me out of the hall. As we walked through the corridors, the weight of the prophecy still pressed heavily on my shoulders, but there was also a glimmer of hope—hope that maybe, just maybe, I could live up to the orcs' expectations.