Page 90 of The First Scar
She was right. The symbol on the page matched exactly what I'd just seen—my Marks, bound by something else. Something red. Something that looked like—
His thread.
"No." The word came out hoarse. "That doesn't mean anything. It's just—"
"Read the verse."
"Serenya—"
"Read it."
Her finger jabbed at the Old Tongue script below the symbol. I didn't want to. Didn't want to give this power over me. But her eyes were fierce, unyielding, and I'd never been able to refuse her when she looked at me like that.
I read.
"When Light no longer denies Shadow, and the sundered soul binds its warring halves, then shall the scar mend, and the Veil be made whole again."
The words settled into me like stones dropped into still water.
The sundered soul.
"It's you," Serenya whispered. "You're the sundered soul. The one destined to heal the Veil—not by fighting your duality, but by embracing both marks."
"That's insane."
"Is it?" She gestured at my Marks, still raw, with that exposed ache. "You have two marks, Amaria. You're the only fae in recorded history to carry both Light and Shadow.You'rethe sundered soul."
"We almost died, Serenya."
"Because of that thing in his chest." Her voice was urgent now, pressing. "The Command-Rune—it fought its natural purpose. The King's magic, trying to tear apart what your marks were doing. That's why he—" She broke off, swallowing. "But don't you see?”
She grabbed my hand.
"The prophecy isn't about him, Amaria. It's aboutyou. Your two halves, learning to harmonize instead of war. His Soulbinder was just trying to heal a sundered soul. But it catalyzed something—even the King couldn’t stop—woke something up,gave us this vision. But the work? The healing?" Her eyes held mine. "That's yours. That's always been yours."
I wasn't sure about any of it. But if the fates were handing me a weapon, I'd take it. I'd been handed worse and made it work.
I let my body sink back onto the bedroll. Exhaustion pulled me under, but my mind kept turning.
Harmonize instead of war.
I'd spent so long caging my Shadow. Treating it as a shameful weapon to be hidden and controlled and never, ever let loose. And my Light—I'd leaned on it like a crutch, the "safe" Mark, the one that didn't make people flinch.
But safe hadn't healed the Veil. Safe hadn't stopped the fractures, the glitches, the bleeding wound in reality that was killing us both.
Maybe it was time to stop being safe.
Dreadscale. I'd have to go to him. Swallow my pride and ask for the training I'd been avoiding. Learn to wield my Shadow with the same intention I gave my Light. Learn to make them worktogether.
Tomorrow, I told myself.Tomorrow, I start.
My eyes drifted shut. Sleep pulled at me, heavy and warm.
And just before I let it take me, a flash of color on Serenya's desk—just visible in the dim light. A small bouquet of pale flowers. Cavern blooms, delicate and white.
The same flowers I'd seen Maxx picking yesterday.
I gave her a long, slow look. She suddenly became very interested in organizing her prophecy notes.
