Page 75 of Forged in Blood

“Prophecies are for fools, Osiris. You know that.” I keep my tone light but shoot daggers at him with my eyes. Whilst I no longer believe in the folly of such fairytales, it is still prudent to exert caution when discussing them. The Lost Prophecies of Fiere are openly discussed as mythology, but most people know only the headlines, not the true secrets contained within them. In ancient times, to link an actual living being to a prophecy was to ensure them a swift and certain death, and only those of us old enough to remember are still conditioned to treat such open talk with extreme caution.

Tread carefully, friend.I warn him though our bond.Walls have ears, remember.

He nods his understanding, then barks out a laugh. “Yeah, bullshit, right.”

Which prophecy and why? Find a way to tell me without implicating the girl.

He tips his face to the ceiling and bites down on his bottom lip. “God, I miss being a student.” He chuckles. “You remember that night I got so drunk that I puked all over half the cheerleading squad?”

A smile tugs at my lips. “I do. It was the talk of the semester. Quite the feat for a werewolf to get so drunk.”

His dark eyes burn into mine. “I was late to class the next day. You had me stay back and recite those fucking poems as punishment.”

That is not what happened at all. I punished him in a much more memorable and pleasurable way, and afterward we lay in bed, listening to the storm roll in. I close my eyes and dread settles in the pit of my stomach. That was also the day I told him the first of Fiere’s prophecies. The one that all bloodline vampires are taught. And even if it is little more than the ramblings of an ancient being, it is a prophecy that many fear.

The child borne of fire and blood?

He gives me a single nod. “Yeah, you were a mean motherfucker.”

“I was merely securing your education.”

“Yeah, and it was quite the education, Professor.” He winks.

I grunt aloud but go on speaking to him through our bond.Why did she make you think of that?

He stands and picks up the book he was looking at earlier. “Okay if I borrow this?”

“Of course, although I would not have thought you had much interest in Greek mythology these days.”

“Me?” He snorts. “I love a good origin story, don’t you?”

With a final pointed look, he leaves the room. Origin story? He must be talking about Ophelia’s origin story. Where the hell do I find that?

I can still feel him walking down the hall.Do not mention this to anyone, Osiris. For your safety and Ophelia’s.I can’t hear his response, but I know I can trust him.

After pulling her file up on my computer, I go through her application again, hoping it will give me some clue as to what Osiris alluded to. If he has been looking into Ophelia, he may have already attracted some attention, and I do not wish to draw further scrutiny by meeting with him again so soon. Her submission essay finishes loading, and I skim the first few paragraphs as I did when I first looked into her. It starts with references to the classic literature she loves and the impact of books on her life. Nothing different from the millions of other high school graduates who apply for college all over the country. That is why I failed to read until the end last time, but now I continue scanning until I reach the final paragraph. And there, in Ophelia’s own words, is her undoing and the end of my world as I know it.

I’m resilient and resourceful. From the little I know about my birth, my entrance into this world was a dramatic one. I was left on the steps of a church with nothing but the scorched cloak I was wrapped in, my skin covered in blood and ash. I never knew my parents or who placed me on those steps, but I’ve never let not knowing who I am stop me from becoming the person I’m supposed to be…

I have no need to read the rest. Those four sentences are enough to tell me that the impossible is reality. Closing my eyes, I focus hard on my brother. Our bond is strong enough to cross continents, and it takes but a few seconds to reach him.

I need to speak with you.

His reply comes swiftly and without question.I shall meet you in the library at midnight.

Thank you, brother.

The library isempty except for Professor Yakon. The werewolf has his head bent low over a stack of books, and I slip past him, seemingly unnoticed. After taking a seat at one of the two-seater oak tables, I switch on the small green desk lamp. I am lost in thoughts of demons and scrolls and my mother’s fables when I hear footsteps approaching, and a second later, Giorgios sits in the chair beside mine.

“Thank you for coming, brother.”

He places a hand on my arm, his brow furrowed like he knows the enormity of what I am about to reveal. “You know that wherever I am, I would come to you at a moment’s notice.”

“Yet it took you six hours to get here,” I quip, needing to lighten the mood before I blow his world apart. I am lucky that a flight was not necessary to get him here because that would have taken three times longer. I envy him his power of teleportation, an ancient magic so few were blessed with.

He shrugs. “I had some business to take care of first.”

I glance around again, checking to ensure nobody new has entered the library and that the biochemistry professor is still bent over his books. Satisfied that we cannot be overheard, I begin. “The girl. Ophelia. She is an elementai.”

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