Page 12 of The Bound Blood
He turns.
His eyes are darker than I remember. Not just with time—but with knowing. His face is lined with years I never saw pass.
“I’m sure you already know what it says, Kael.”
I grit my teeth. “I know the version they wanted me to believe.Kill the one who cracks the Veil from within.But that part wasn’t in the book I have—just fragments of a prophecy.”
“And you think the full version is better?” he asks. “That it’ll hold the answer you want?”
“I think I deserve to hear it.”
Silence stretches, thick and brittle.
Then Azrael steps closer, his voice low and deliberate. “There isn’t one prophecy, Kael. There arefour. Four fractured futures, each tied to a different choice. And the girl?”
He pauses.
“She’s the catalyst for it all.”
My chest tightens, and I rub at the spot.
“She has to choose,” he continues. “And if she doesn’t—the Veil will choose for her.”
My breath catches.
“Which one comes true depends on who she chooses to become. And what path she travels down. And who she chooses to travel with.”
“And if she chooses wrong?” I ask.
He meets my gaze—unflinching, hollow.
“Then we all fall. Not just this realm, but all of them, collapsing in on themselves, becoming one.”
My jaw tightens.
“No more riddles,” I bite out. “Tell me what they are. The four paths. The possible future's.”
Azrael exhales slowly, as if the weight of the knowledge burns his lungs on the way out.
“They aren’t roads you can name,” he says. “Not clean ones. You know the Veil doesn’t deal in straight lines—it splits and coils andtwistsbased on emotion, will, instinct. Her choices aren’t mapped. They’refelt.”
“Then speak in feelings,” I snap. “Paint it in blood and ruin if you have to. Just stop dancing around it.”
His gaze flickers, sharp as a blade, revealing the man I used to know. But he nods.
“Very well.”
He turns away, facing the dark wall that pulses faintly with viewing runes. They glow and clear, showing Lindsay in the middle, her actions matching his words as he speaks.
“The first path is fire. Rage. She chooses vengeance. The Veil breaks, but it breaks outward. The world burns—and she becomes something no one can control. Not even herself. If the school binds her powers, this is the path she’ll likely walk.”
A pulse of dread surges in my chest.
“The second,” he continues, “is silence. She retreats. Refuses her power. Denies herself. And the Veil…consumes her. She doesn’t break it. Shebecomesit. No action is action after all.”
I flinch. She curls in on herself in the vision, and I want to reach for her. To protect her from herself.
“The third is sacrifice. She gives too much. Of herself. Of the bond she’s created.” His gaze flicks knowingly to my palm. “The Veil heals, but only through her death. She’ll die to protect those she loves.”
