Torn Between Destinies-Chapter 43 - Forty Three

I didn’t plan to tell him that night. But silence had grown heavy, like a dam ready to break, and when I looked at Darius across the firelight, I knew.

He noticed. "You’re too quiet."

I sipped from the wooden cup in my hand, barely tasting the tea. "There’s something I need to say."

His brow furrowed. He leaned in, concern already rising. "What is it?"

I set the cup down, hands trembling. "The dreams I’ve been having... they’re not just dreams."

His eyes narrowed. "Luciana..."

"They’re visions," I interrupted gently. "Warnings. And a prophecy."

I told him everything.

The cursed land. The ancient wizard. The darkness swallowing Silverglen. The voice—old and commanding—that called to me night after night. The Vale of Ancients. The command to go alone. The time limit. Twenty-one days.

When I finished, the room was silent except for the crackling fire.

He stared at me. "You’ve known all this... and didn’t tell me?"

I nodded slowly. "I wanted to. I was going to. But how do you tell someone you love that you might have to leave them behind?"

His jaw tightened. "You don’t. Because you don’t do it. You stay."

I shook my head. "Darius—"

"No," he said, standing up so fast the chair scraped the floor. "You’re not going."

I stood too. "I have to. The land—"

"Screw the land!" His voice rang through the house like thunder. "Screw prophecy and dreams and whatever ancient whisper got into your head. I’m not losing you. Erya’s not losing you."

I flinched. "It’s not about losing me. It’s about saving all of us."

His chest heaved. "Then we leave. Now. We take Erya and the others and get as far from this cursed place as we can. We find somewhere safe."

"There is no safe place," I said, voice trembling but firm. "It follows us. The curse isn’t bound to the soil—it’s bound to *me*."

He froze. "What are you talking about?"

"I saw it," I said. "In the vision. If I don’t go, *I’m* the reason it spreads. It starts here, yes—but it ends with everyone I love dying. Erya. You. Mayla. Even those who didn’t follow us."

"No," he said, voice low now, almost broken. "You’re not cursed."

"I didn’t say I was cursed. I said the prophecy chose me." I stepped closer. "And I *know* it did. The whispers, the way the forest responds to me, the spirits, the trials—everything is pointing to me. I can’t ignore it anymore."

His hands clenched into fists. "You said the Vale is dangerous. That it tests you. Breaks you."

I nodded. "Yes."

"And you’re going alone?"

"Yes."

He turned away, dragging his hands through his hair. "You’re asking me to just... stay here? Sit with Erya and *wait* while you throw yourself into some ancient death trap based on a dream?"

"I’m not asking you to be okay with it," I said quietly. "I’m asking you to let me do what I was born to do."

He spun to face me. "No. I didn’t bring you here to watch you walk away. We left Thornridge to build a life. To escape the mess of prophecy and politics and cursed bloodlines. We were supposed to start *over*."

"I know," I whispered. "But the past followed us."

He let out a long, ragged breath, then stormed out of the house.

I didn’t follow. I couldn’t.

Not yet.

---

He came back near midnight. The door creaked open slowly, and I looked up from where I sat near the hearth.

"I needed air," he muttered.

I nodded.

He sat across from me, elbows on his knees. "How long?"

"A few days."

Silence.

"Do you know what’ll happen there?"

I shook my head. "Only that I must endure it. If I succeed, I’ll return stronger. Wiser. Able to protect this land."

"And if you fail?"

I swallowed. "Then the curse wins."

He rubbed his eyes. "I’m not built for this. I’m not like you."

"You’re strong," I said. "But this path was never meant to be yours."

He looked at me, eyes wet. "That’s the part I hate the most. That no matter what I say, you’ve already made up your mind."

I nodded.

"You didn’t even ask me to come."

"I can’t," I said. "The prophecy was clear. I must go alone."

He stood and walked to the window, staring out at the night.

"I won’t stop you," he said finally. "But don’t ask me to be okay with it."

"I won’t."

He turned to me. "Just promise me one thing."

"What?"

"If you sense you can’t win—if the Vale starts breaking you—come back. Even if the curse comes with you. We’ll face it together."

I stood and walked to him. "You know I can’t promise that."

"Lie to me, then," he whispered. "Please."

I pressed my forehead to his. "I’ll come back."

It wasn’t a lie. It was a vow.

But deep down, we both knew that some vows were made with blood, not breath.

---

The next morning, we didn’t speak much. Darius went about the chores, quiet and stiff. Erya sensed the tension and clung to my side more than usual.

At midday, I sat with Mayla by the garden. She looked at me, eyes filled with knowing.

"You told him."

I nodded.

"And?"

"We fought. Then he let me go."

She touched my hand. "He’ll follow if you don’t return. You know that, right?"

I looked away. "I know."

"Do you want me to keep watch while you’re gone?"

I smiled weakly. "Yes. Please."

She squeezed my hand. "I will."

---

That evening, I found Darius by the river. He stood there, arms crossed, watching the water flow.

"I’m leaving tomorrow," I said.

He nodded.

We stood in silence for a long time.

Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pendant—silver, shaped like a crescent moon, strung on a leather cord.

"It was my mother’s," he said. "She gave it to me before she died. Said it always pointed true when the stars failed."

He looped it over my head. "You’ll need it more than me."

Tears stung my eyes. "Thank you."

He pulled me into his arms, and for a long time, we didn’t move.

We didn’t speak.

Just held on.

And when the sun dipped behind the trees, casting long shadows across the land, I finally stepped back.

He didn’t say goodbye.

Neither did I.

---

That night, I packed. Light but prepared. The forest would provide most of what I needed, but I brought tokens—Erya’s drawing, Darius’s pendant, and a bundle of dried herbs from Mayla.

I didn’t sleep.

Instead, I lay beside Darius, watching him, memorizing him.

When the sky turned gray with morning, I kissed his cheek and slipped from the bed.

Erya stirred in her cradle. I knelt beside her, brushed a curl from her forehead, and whispered, "I’ll be back."

She smiled in her sleep.

And with that, I walked out the door, into the mist, toward the Vale of Ancients.

Alone.

But with the weight of a hundred souls on my shoulders.