Page 122 of The Edge of Darkness

Two great powers to bring the change,

the gods will rise upon a new age.

My attention snagged on the words that had been underlined.

A flame of light, a flame of dark . . .

Two great powers . . .

Two. Great. Powers.

Two.

Had the prophecy always spoken of two powers?

We believed that a chosen one would rise to defeat Lyceius, and our assumptions were based on the second line in the prophecy: the fate of all to the fate of one. But no one had ever questioned the fact that the rest of the prophecy referred to more than one power.

If Auren’s power was the “flame of light”, what about the “flame of dark”?

I re-read the prophecy in its entirety again, snagging on a single word that made a pit open up in my stomach . . .

Ash.

Stars . . . and ash.

Auren . . . and . . .

Oh fuck.

I pushed myself up with my elbows, and hunched over the book, staring at the words like they would somehow restructure themselves to say “just kidding,” if I stared hard enough.

Stars and ash. The words glared back at me. Gods . . . had we really not seen it before?

Perhaps it was all a strange coincidence. I was just in my own head, making something out of nothing because I was searching for answers.

Auren was the “light” and the “stars,” as referred to in the prophecy. It had been confirmed—there was no denying that. The signs leading up to the prophecy had been ushered in by her arrival. But why had no one taken into account the “flame of dark”? Or the fact that the word “dark” was the opposite of “light”?

And two obviously meant more than one.

Stars and ash. Stars and ash.

I gaped at the words, and each time I read them, I couldn’t help but think of Auren and me. We were stars and ash. Our powers were the embodiment of them.

Was this why Erebus’s power mysteriously surfaced again in me? Was I meant to play a part in this prophecy?

In the empty space surrounding the text, a small note had been written, as if, at one point, whoever had been reading this was trying to work through the meaning themselves.

Opposites in power—a balance—something of fate.

The script appeared to be of a female’s hand, and the only other being I knew of that had her nose this far into this book, was Amarna. She was wise beyond her years. If she’d pieced this all together, why not just tell us what she’d suspected?

I closed the book and sat back, staring at the fire once more.

Amarna had never pressured me into reading Evander’s journal, though there were many times she had offered it to me. Each time I’d refused.

So she’d given the journal to Auren.

I’d been so stubborn, and hadn’t wanted to read it on my own, but with Auren, it was easier. Amarna must have concluded that we were the ones the prophecy spoke of. The Elder had pieced everything together, and she knew I would need Auren by my side to be able to face what was in the journal. To face the truth about myself. The truth about us. I needed Auren, and according to the prophecy, she would also need me. But did that mean my power was necessary in order for the prophecy to be fulfilled? What if we were to get separated in the midst of battle, or I ended up wounded and couldn’t use it to the capacity that was needed?