Shadows of Doubt
The camp stirred to life as the first rays of sunlight spilled over the peaks. Wolves and warriors moved with quiet purpose, their efficiency betraying the tension that hummed in the air. The journey back to Crimson Fang would be grueling, and every step felt heavier with the weight of the twins’ arrival.
Isla and Draven rode side by side, their movements slow and deliberate to avoid jostling Isla in her weakened state. The twins, bundled tightly in soft linens, rested in Eira’s arms as she rode ahead, her expression unreadable as always.
“Something about it felt… true,” Isla murmured to Draven, her silver eyes clouded with uncertainty.
Draven’s amber gaze softened as he looked at her, his hand reaching out to rest on hers. “Pain plays tricks on the mind,” he said gently. “Don’t let it rob you of this moment, Isla. Our children are here. They’re safe. That’s what matters now.”
Isla nodded, but her mind refused to quiet. The vision had felt too vivid, too visceral to dismiss as a hallucination. She cast a glance over her shoulder, her eyes landing on her father, who rode at the rear of the group. His head was bowed, his golden eyes distant, but to Isla, his silence felt like an echo of guilt.
The twins stirred in Eira’s arms, their soft murmurs breaking the tense silence. Isla’s attention snapped back to them, her heart clenching as she watched their tiny hands twitch.
Eira’s voice broke through her thoughts, calm and measured. “You’ve accomplished something extraordinary, Isla. These children represent a legacy greater than any of us. Don’t let fear or doubt cloud what you’ve achieved.”
“Legacy?” Isla repeated, her tone laced with skepticism.
Eira glanced back, her faint smile as unreadable as her expression. “Their bloodline is tied to the Moon Goddess. Their power will shape the future. You’ve given them a chance at greatness.”
Isla’s chest tightened at the words. She wanted to believe them, to hold onto the peace of the moment, but the flickering images of her vision refused to fade.
Gripping Draven’s hand tightly, Isla whispered, “What if it wasn’t just pain, Draven? What if it was real?”
Draven’s jaw tightened as he met her gaze, his amber eyes steady. “Then we’ll uncover the truth when the time is right,” he said, his voice firm but soothing. “But right now, we need to focus on getting home.”
The wind rustled through the trees, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth, but to Isla, it felt like an unseen force pressing against her. As the group pressed onward, her heart warred with her mind. She clung to Draven’s presence, his steady strength grounding her, but the unease lingered, a dark undercurrent that refused to be ignored.
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