The words strike like a physical blow. I flinch, but hold my ground. "Get out."
For a moment, he looks like he might argue, might try to force the issue. But then his lips curl into a bitter smile. "As you wish, Luna." He spits the title like a curse before storming out, slamming the door behind him.
I sink onto the bed, trembling, as Eira stirs within me. "Enough," she growls, her voice stronger than it's been in weeks. "Your grandmother wouldn't want this. She gave you a gift—a prophecy. It's time to read it."
My hands shake as I cross to the dresser, pulling open the drawer where I've kept the folded parchment safe. The paper is old, delicate, yellowed with age. As I unfold it, my grandmother's scent still clings faintly to the edges, bringing fresh tears to my eyes.
In elegant, flowing script, the prophecy reads:
~From depths of shadow shall she rise, A Luna born of servant's guise, Through trials fierce and bonds betrayed, Her worth in moonlight shall be made.
Within her womb, a sacred seed— The Moonborn Heir, by fate decreed. Born of forest, kissed by light, Where Alpha bloodlines shall unite.
This child shall bridge what time has torn, When pack meets pack, and oaths are sworn. Through this heir shall peace unfold, As ancient prophecies foretold.