Chapter 159

OPHELIA 15 MINUTES BEFORE THE LIGHT GOES OUT Blood runs in a steady stream down my thigh from a gash on my hip, as the healing energy from the earth line that flows through me is far too depleted to close the wound. I run on, pain burning a trail through every ligament and every muscle. But I recall Cadence’s lifeless face, Enora’s silver hair as it was torn from her scalp. Sienna and Osiris, father and daughter fighting side by side, bloodied and bruised. My mates, all prepared to give up their lives in pursuit of the same goal—my survival. But my survival is the one thing that cannot happen. The words that have been spoken by so many echo through my thoughts: Always trust your light, child. You are the holy relic, Ophelia. The Chosen One. Then lines from the prophecy, disjointed and out of order, ring louder: And the light is tempted back from the darkness. The child borne of fire and blood shall be our ruin or our redemption. To bring a balance that reigns through the ages. A vampir