Desperate Suspicions
Isla retreated to her quarters, her silver eyes darting nervously as she spread the letters across the table. The cryptic words stared back at her like accusations, their meaning just out of reach.
“Sacrifices must be made.”
“For balance. For legacy. For power.”
The phrases replayed in her mind, intertwining with the haunting images from her vision. Her chest tightened as she recalled her mother’s lifeless body, her father’s cold eyes, and Eira’s chilling detachment.
Draven entered quietly, his amber eyes narrowing as he took in Isla’s frantic movements. “What’s going on?” he asked, his voice steady but edged with concern.
Isla barely looked up, her fingers trembling as she handed him one of the letters. “I found these in Eira’s tent,” she said, her voice cracking. “Draven… they talk about sacrifices and power. What if she’s behind everything? The twins, my mother—what if it’s all connected?”
Draven read the letter, his jaw tightening with each word. The weight of the implications settled heavily between them. “If she’s involved, we’ll find out,” he said finally, his voice low and dangerous. “But we can’t act without proof.”
“We don’t have time for proof!” Isla’s voice rose, her desperation spilling over. “Every second we waste could mean we lose the twins forever!”
Draven crossed the room in two strides, his hands gripping her shoulders firmly but gently. “Listen to me,” he said, his voice softening. “If Eira is hiding something, she’ll slip. And when she does, we’ll be ready to act. But we can’t let her suspect us—not yet.”
Isla’s breathing slowed as she met Draven’s unwavering gaze. The intensity in his amber eyes steadied her, grounding her in the chaos of her emotions.
“Okay,” she said finally, though her voice still trembled. “But I won’t let her get away with this.”
Draven nodded, his grip tightening briefly before he let go. “Neither will I.”
