Page 45 of Shifting Hearts 1
The armor's weight is familiar now, the runes pulsing softly against my skin, responding to something deeper than blood, something older. I stand near the vault’s edge, watching the shadows stretch across the stone. The Brotherhood will come at dawn, and I’ll be ready, but I need answers first.
Kieran stands across from me, silent, watching me like he’s memorizing the way I breathe. I cross the room, the sound of my boots echoing like a countdown.
“Tell me,” I say. “Why does the armor know me? Why doyou?”
He doesn’t hesitate. “Because you were never just prophecy. You were chosen. Not by the Brotherhood, by the bond.”
I blink. “The bond?”
He steps closer, and the air shifts, charged, electric, ancient. “We’re fated mates, Raven. Not by tradition, not by ritual, by the old magic. The kind they buried because it couldn’t be controlled.”
My breath catches. “That’s why the armor responds to me. Tous.”
He nods. “The bond amplifies power. It’s not just emotional, it’s elemental. When we’re aligned, the magic doesn’t just obey. Itawakens.”
I feel it then. The hum beneath my skin, the way the runes flare brighter when he’s near. The way my heartbeat syncs with his without trying.
“They’ll see it,” I whisper. “They’ll know.” Fear flickers through my chest.
“They already do,” he speaks. “That’s why they’re afraid, because together, we’re not just prophecy fulfilled. We’re the end of their control.”
I reach for his hand, armored fingers brushing his. The contact sends a ripple through the room, the runes blaze, the air thickens, and the vaultshudderslike it’s remembering something sacred.
I swallow hard. “Tell me about the Brotherhood. I need to know before I walk into battle, I need to know what I’m fighting for.”
And he does.
He tells me about the Brotherhood’s founding. About the bloodlines they erased, about the prophecy they feared, about the power they tried to cage, and the girl who broke through anyway.
Me.
By the time he’s done, the armor feels less like protection and more like truth.
When I walk out of that vault, I’m no longer the girl they hunted.
I’m the one they should’ve feared.
Kieran’s room is colder than I expected.
Not in temperature, there’s heat from the hearth, the scent of cedar smoke curling through the air, but in silence. In the way the shadows cling to the corners, in the way the walls seem to listen.
He said I should rest, said that I’d need strength for tomorrow. He kissed my temple like it meant something and left me here, alone, wrapped in one of his shirts and the weight of everything I don’t understand.
I sit on the edge of his bed, trying to breathe through the tightness in my chest. The armor is gone. My blade is across the room. I feel naked. Not just skin, but my soul.
The door creaks, and I look up, expecting Kieran.
It’s not him.
A man steps inside. Hooded. Broad-shouldered. His scent hits me first; iron, smoke, something bitter and wrong. I rise slowly, heart thudding.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” I half shout.
He doesn’t answer, he just watches me with eyes that don’t blink. “I wanted to see what he gave everything up for,” he says finally. “To see if you were worth it.”
I take a step back. “Who are you?”
He smiles, but it’s all venom. “A brother. Not yours.”
