Page 67

Rowen

S ierra had been quiet all day. I couldn't blame her, not with the impending task that loomed before us. The ritual to forge Lightbringer, our only hope against the Shadow Beast, was mere hours away, and the weight of it pressed down on all of us.

I watched her from across our chambers as she methodically sorted through her clothes, selecting items with an attention to detail that seemed excessive even for her.

Her silver hair was pulled back in a simple braid, exposing the delicate line of her neck where our claiming marks still shimmered.

She'd been like this since morning. Focused, withdrawn, almost mechanical in her movements.

"Are you sure about the timing?" I asked, breaking the silence that had settled between us. "Midnight seems traditional for rituals of this magnitude."

Sierra didn't look up from her task, but I caught the slight tensing of her shoulders. "It's not midnight," she said, her voice soft but certain. "It needs to be 4:17 in the morning. The exact time I was born."

I frowned, crossing the room to stand behind her. "You never mentioned this before."

"I didn't know before." She finally turned to face me, her silver eyes meeting mine with an intensity that made something in my chest tighten. "I had another dream about Azrael last night. He confirmed it has to be the exact moment of my birth for the ritual to work properly."

I studied her face, searching for any sign of deception. Sierra had always been a terrible liar. Her expressions were too open, too honest. But something in her gaze now seemed guarded, as if she were holding part of herself back.

"What else did he tell you?" I pressed, my instincts warning me there was more to this revelation.

She shrugged, turning back to her clothes. "Just details about the ritual we already knew. The alignment of celestial forces will be strongest at that precise moment, that's all."

I didn't believe her, not entirely, but I let it go for now. We all had our secrets, our fears about what was to come. If this detail about the timing was what she'd chosen to share, I would accept it.

"I'll inform Callum and make the necessary adjustments," I said, resting my hand briefly on her shoulder. "Are you... alright?"

She leaned into my touch, just slightly, her eyes closing for a moment. "Just nervous. There's a lot riding on this."

That, at least, was undeniably true. The fate of multiple realms, the lives of countless beings, our future together. All of it hinged on successfully forging Lightbringer and defeating the Shadow Beast.

"We'll succeed," I told her, injecting confidence into my voice that I didn't entirely feel. "Together."

Sierra nodded, but didn't respond otherwise. After a moment, I left her to her preparations and went to find Callum.

I located him in the library with Lightsbane laid out on the table before him.

The ancient blade gleamed darkly in the dim light, its runes seeming to shift and move when viewed from the corner of the eye.

My half-brother was polishing it with methodical care, his fingers moving over the metal with a reverence that bordered on devotion.

"There's been a change of plans," I announced, approaching the table. "The ritual needs to happen at 4:17 in the morning, not midnight."

Callum looked up, his pale green eyes narrowing slightly. "Why the change?"

"According to Sierra, it's the exact time of her birth. Azrael told her the celestial alignment will be strongest then."

Callum's hands stilled on the blade. "When did she learn this?"

"Last night, apparently. Another dream visitation."

He was silent for a moment, processing this new information. "That's... very specific."

"Too specific?" I asked, voicing the concern that had been nagging at me.

Callum's gaze returned to Lightsbane, his expression thoughtful. "Perhaps. But if Azrael himself provided the information, we should heed it. The Angel of Death isn't known for frivolous guidance."

I nodded, though the unease persisted. "Where's Archer?"

"Still preparing in the eastern wing. He's been meditating since dawn, focusing his angelic energies for the ritual." Callum ran his thumb over one of the runes etched into the blade. "He's taking this very seriously."

"We all are," I pointed out, moving to examine the sword more closely. "This may be our only chance to defeat the Shadow Beast."

Callum's eyes met mine, and I saw my own concerns reflected there. "Have you noticed anything... unusual about Sierra today?"

So I wasn't the only one who'd sensed something off. "She's distant. Preoccupied."

"More than that." Callum set down the polishing cloth. "She came to my chambers before dawn, just to sit with me. She didn't say much, just watched me as if... as if she were memorizing my face."

A chill ran down my spine at his words. "She did the same with me last night. I woke to find her tracing my features with her fingertips."

"Something's wrong," Callum stated flatly. "She knows something she's not telling us."

I couldn't disagree. Sierra had been acting strangely ever since she'd learned about her celestial heritage.

At first, I'd attributed it to the shock of discovering her grandfather was the Angel of Death, then to the strain of her primal heat.

But this was different. A deliberate withdrawal, as if she were already preparing to say goodbye.

"I'll talk to her," I decided, turning toward the door.

"We should both go," Callum suggested, carefully resheathing Lightsbane. "Whatever she's hiding, it concerns all of us."

We found Sierra in our chambers, sitting cross-legged on the floor with her eyes closed. She seemed to be meditating, her breathing slow and measured, her hands resting palms-up on her knees. The air around her shimmered slightly, as if distorted by heat, though the room itself was cool.

"Sierra," I called softly, not wanting to startle her.

Her eyes opened slowly, focusing first on me, then on Callum. "Hey." Her voice sounded as if it were far away. "Is it time already?"

"Not yet," Callum replied, moving to crouch beside her. "We wanted to check on you."

She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I'm fine. Just centering myself for tonight."

"Sierra," I said, joining them on the floor. "What aren't you telling us?"

Her expression flickered, surprise quickly masked by forced casualness. "What do you mean?"

"You've been acting strangely all day," Callum pointed out gently. "As if you're... preparing for something more than just the ritual."

"We're concerned," I added, reaching for her hand. "Whatever it is, we can face it together."

Sierra's composure cracked, just for a moment, and I caught a glimpse of such profound sorrow in her eyes that it stole my breath. But she quickly recovered, squeezing my hand with reassuring pressure.

"I'm scared," she admitted, which wasn't a lie, but I sensed it wasn't the whole truth either. "This ritual is dangerous, and there's so much at stake. I just want to make sure I'm ready."

Callum and I exchanged glances over her head. She was hiding something, that much was clear, but pushing her further might only cause her to retreat more.

"We'll be with you every step of the way," Callum promised, his hand coming to rest on her shoulder. "All of us."

She nodded, leaning into his touch. "I know. And that's what matters most."

The conversation was interrupted by Archer's arrival. He entered our chambers with quiet purpose, his ice-blue eyes immediately finding Sierra. Something passed between them, a silent communication I couldn't decipher.

"It's nearly time to begin preparations," Archer announced, his voice steady despite the tension evident in his posture. "The forge needs to be heated, and we all need to cleanse ourselves before the ritual. Then Callum can cast the protection spell."

Sierra rose to her feet, smoothing down her clothes with hands that trembled slightly. "I'm ready."

No, I thought, watching her face carefully. You're not. None of us are.

But we were out of time, out of options. The Shadow Beast was growing stronger by the hour, the barriers between realms weakening. We had to act now, ready or not.

As we prepared to leave our chambers, Sierra suddenly turned and embraced me fiercely, her arms wrapping around my waist with surprising strength. I returned the embrace automatically, feeling her smaller frame press against mine as if trying to imprint the sensation on her memory.

"Thank you," she whispered against my chest. "For everything."

Before I could respond, she'd pulled away and moved to Callum, repeating the gesture. The look on my brother's face mirrored the confusion and concern I felt. This wasn't just pre-ritual nerves. This was goodbye.

When she reached Archer, her embrace lingered longer, and I saw her whisper something in his ear that made his entire body stiffen. His eyes widened, then narrowed as he pulled back to look at her face.

"Sierra—" he began, his voice tight with alarm.

"We should go," she interrupted, stepping back from him. "We don't want to be late."

As we filed out of the chambers, I caught Archer's eye, silently demanding an explanation. His expression was grim, his jaw clenched with what looked like barely suppressed panic.

Whatever Sierra had told him, whatever secret she was keeping, I had a sinking feeling we were about to find out, and that none of us were going to like it.