Page 24 of Shifting Hearts

TEN

Raven

T he room feels alive.

Not in the way a place breathes with memory, but in the way it watches.

The walls hum with old magic, and the air tastes like stormlight and ash.

I step forward, and the vault responds. A panel slides open, revealing folded garments; soft black linen, a tunic stitched with silver thread, and trousers reinforced with leather at the knees.

Functional. Elegant. Like it knew exactly what I’d need.

I dress slowly, reverently. The fabric molds to my skin like it’s been waiting for me. When I fasten the last clasp, the mirror across the room flickers, runes igniting in its surface like a heartbeat.

Then the armor reveals itself.

Obsidian plates, etched with symbols I don’t understand but somehow feel. A breastplate that pulses faintly when I touch it. Gauntlets that whisper my name. The moment I lift the chestpiece, the runes flare brighter, and the room stills.

I hesitate.

Kieran steps beside me, silent as shadow. “It won’t hurt you,” he says. “It was made for you.”

I glance at him. “How could it be? They didn’t even want me to exist.”

“They didn’t,” he agrees. “But the old magic did, the prophecy did. The armor doesn’t serve the Brotherhood, it serves the bloodline, and you are its heir.”

I slide the breastplate into place. It locks with a soft hiss, like a sigh of recognition. Gauntlets follow, then boots, then shoulder guards. Each piece clicks into place like a memory returning.

When I’m finished, I don’t recognize myself.

But the room does, and so does Kieran.

“You look like a storm,” he says quietly. “Like the reckoning they tried to bury.”

The armor's weight is familiar now, the runes pulsing softly against my skin, responding to something deeper than blood, something older. I stand near the vault’s edge, watching the shadows stretch across the stone. The Brotherhood will come at dawn, and I’ll be ready, but I need answers first.

Kieran stands across from me, silent, watching me like he’s memorizing the way I breathe. I cross the room, the sound of my boots echoing like a countdown.

“Tell me,” I say. “Why does the armor know me? Why do you ?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “Because you were never just prophecy. You were chosen. Not by the Brotherhood, by the bond.”

I blink. “The bond?”

He steps closer, and the air shifts, charged, electric, ancient. “We’re fated mates, Raven. Not by tradition, not by ritual, by the old magic. The kind they buried because it couldn’t be controlled.”

My breath catches. “That’s why the armor responds to me. To us .”

He nods. “The bond amplifies power. It’s not just emotional, it’s elemental. When we’re aligned, the magic doesn’t just obey. It awakens .”

I feel it then. The hum beneath my skin, the way the runes flare brighter when he’s near. The way my heartbeat syncs with his without trying.

“They’ll see it,” I whisper. “They’ll know.” Fear flickers through my chest.

“They already do,” he speaks. “That’s why they’re afraid, because together, we’re not just prophecy fulfilled. We’re the end of their control.”

I reach for his hand, armored fingers brushing his. The contact sends a ripple through the room, the runes blaze, the air thickens, and the vault shudders like it’s remembering something sacred.

I swallow hard. “Tell me about the Brotherhood. I need to know before I walk into battle, I need to know what I’m fighting for.”

And he does.

He tells me about the Brotherhood’s founding. About the bloodlines they erased, about the prophecy they feared, about the power they tried to cage, and the girl who broke through anyway.

Me.

By the time he’s done, the armor feels less like protection and more like truth.

When I walk out of that vault, I’m no longer the girl they hunted.

I’m the one they should’ve feared.

Kieran’s room is colder than I expected.

Not in temperature, there’s heat from the hearth, the scent of cedar smoke curling through the air, but in silence. In the way the shadows cling to the corners, in the way the walls seem to listen.

He said I should rest, said that I’d need strength for tomorrow. He kissed my temple like it meant something and left me here, alone, wrapped in one of his shirts and the weight of everything I don’t understand.

I sit on the edge of his bed, trying to breathe through the tightness in my chest. The armor is gone. My blade is across the room. I feel naked. Not just skin, but my soul.

The door creaks, and I look up, expecting Kieran.

It’s not him.

A man steps inside. Hooded. Broad-shouldered. His scent hits me first; iron, smoke, something bitter and wrong. I rise slowly, heart thudding.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” I half shout.

He doesn’t answer, he just watches me with eyes that don’t blink. “I wanted to see what he gave everything up for,” he says finally. “To see if you were worth it.”

I take a step back. “Who are you?”

He smiles, but it’s all venom. “A brother. Not yours.”

I glance toward my blade. Too far.

“You don’t understand what you are,” he says, stepping closer. “What you cost. Alpha Kieran broke the code for you. Broke us .”

I square my shoulders. “Then maybe you were already broken.”

He moves. Fast.

A flash of steel is aimed at my throat. I twist, stumble, catching the blade with my forearm. Pain blooms. I scream and shove him back, blood slicking my skin.

He snarls. “You don’t belong here.” He thrusts the knife against my throat once more, but as he does, a force begins pushing the blade from me to him. Power thrums through me and into the blade.

The door bursts open.

Kieran.

He sees the blood. Sees me. Sees him , and something inside him snaps.

He doesn’t speak. He just crosses the room in a blur, grabs the man by the throat, and slams him against the stone. The runes carved into the walls flare, reacting to his fury.

“You touched her,” Kieran sneers, voice like frostbite. “In my room. In my name.”

The man coughs, bloodied. “She’s not one of us.”

Kieran’s eyes burn. “She’s mine.”

He doesn’t kill him. Not yet. He drags him out, throws him before the Brotherhood, and speaks the word that severs all ties.

Exile.

I stand there, shaking, blood dripping down my arm, Kieran’s shirt torn and stained.

I don’t know these men. Don’t know their laws or loyalties. But I know this; I’m already part of their war.

And tonight, I learned what it costs.