CHAPTER SIX - PROPHECY.

AVAS POV

I opened my eyes.

The blur above me sharpened, silver hair, sharper eyes. His lips parted, his jaw tightening. For a moment, there was something wild flickering behind that calm, something raw and unguarded that vanished before I could name it.

“Damon…” The word barely escaped my lips.

He was kneeling beside me, one hand hovering over my chest, not touching, but trembling. His breath came slow, controlled, though his eyes betrayed it.

His voice dropped, lower than I’d ever heard it. “You weren’t supposed to experience that yet.”

I blinked, confusion clouding everything. My throat burned, words scraping out rough. “What… what just happened?”

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he studied me like I was something strange, dangerous even. His gaze swept over me, searching for something unseen. His brow twitched, just slightly, a crack in the unreadable mask before it sealed again.

“You didn’t faint,” he muttered finally. “You surged.”

“Surged?” I repeated, the word heavy and meaningless on my tongue. I tried to push myself up on my elbows, but my arms felt like wet ropes, trembling under my own weight. “Is that supposed to mean something?”

“It means your control is nonexistent.” His tone hardened. “You could’ve torn the clearing apart if I hadn’t stopped you.”

I stared. “What are you talking about? I didn’t do anything, I just—”

“You did,” he cut in. “You just don’t remember.”

I swallowed, the chill of his words sinking deep. “Then tell me. What did I do?”

He said nothing.

Damon stood slowly, the movement controlled, deliberate. Whatever warmth had been on his face vanished as fast as it came. He turned from me, eyes fixed on the trees beyond the clearing.

“I warned Mira,” he said under his breath. “The prophecy…”

He stopped.

My heart skipped. “What prophecy?”

Silence.

I pushed myself upright despite the ache in my arms. “Damon. What prophecy?”

He didn’t move. The wind carried his voice back, softer this time, almost regretful. “One that was never supposed to find you.”

I froze. “What does that even mean?”

No reply.

He walked farther toward the edge of the clearing, shadows swallowing him piece by piece.

And when he finally spoke again, it wasn’t to me. His words were like parables.

“Your mother had—.”

He couldn’t finish his word, his ear twitched, head snapping toward the sound.

“Damon!” My voice cracked, the fear raw in it.

He was already at the window before I could blink, sword drawn. His movements were silent, precise. Every line of his body sharpened, muscles coiling like a predator ready to strike. His eyes, cold, cut through the dark.

“They found us,” he said without looking back.

The air in the cabin shifted. Heavy. Tight.

My bare feet hit the floor, the cold biting into my skin. A sharp pain tore through my side, forcing a wince. “Who?”

He turned slightly, gaze flicking toward me. “The Shadowborn.”

The word itself was enough to send a chill up my spine. I swallowed hard, bile rising in my throat.

I stumbled across the room, clutching the edge of the table to steady myself. “Can we run?”

“No.”

That single word cracked through the silence like thunder.

I stared at him. “Then we fight.”

He turned fully this time, face unreadable. “No. I fight.”

“What?” My voice rose, disbelief flooding in.

In three long strides, he was in front of me. His hands landed firmly on my shoulders, the pressure grounding but commanding. “You’re not going out there. You’re still healing.”

“I don’t care—”

“I do.” His voice was low, tight, vibrating with something between anger and fear. “You’re not ready.”

I shoved his hands off, chest heaving. “I can hold a blade, Damon.”

His eyes flashed, something like pain behind the fury. “You’ll get yourself killed!” he snapped. “You don’t even understand what’s coming through those trees.”

“I’m not helpless!”

He exhaled sharply, frustration cutting through his composure. “Damn it, Ava, you barely made it through a moment ago. You think I’m letting you face one of them?”

My hands trembled at my sides, not from fear but fury. “So I’m supposed to just hide? Let you fight alone?”

“Yes,” he bit out.

The word hit like a slap.

He turned away, pacing once toward the window. The moonlight hit his face, stern, sculpted, distant. His knuckles were white against the hilt of his sword.

Outside, the wind howled. The trees rustled. Something moved beyond them, too close.

“Damon…” I whispered.

“No.” His tone left no space for argument.

The word cut like steel. Not loud. Final.

It hung there between us, sharp and unmoving, like a blade wedged into the air itself. My breath caught, chest rising and falling too fast. I stared at him, but he didn’t look back, his jaw was set, eyes locked on the window as if he could already see death coming.

Outside, a howl rose. Long. Vicious. It tore through the night like a wound splitting open. The sound made my stomach twist; it wasn’t distant anymore, it was close. Too close.

The walls shuddered, the wooden beams creaking in protest. Dust rained down from the ceiling in a soft, choking drizzle. Something slammed against the side of the cabin, hard enough to rattle the table and send the candles trembling. Once. Then again. A test. A warning.

I moved without thinking. My feet hit the cold floor as I made for the weapons chest, pulse thundering in my ears. My fingers brushed the latch.

He was faster.

In one smooth motion, Damon was there, his hand closing around the dagger before I could even blink. The movement was fluid, practiced. Dangerous.

He didn’t need to look at me when he spoke; his voice carried enough weight to silence the air itself.

“You’ll slow me down.”

For a moment, I couldn’t breathe.

The flickering candlelight carved sharp edges across his f

ace, cold, determined, unyielding.

And in that instant, I understood.

Whatever was outside wasn’t the only danger in the room.