Torn Between Destinies-Chapter 47 - Forty Seven

Pain was the first thing I felt.

Not the searing, blinding kind—but the heavy, dragging ache that settled in every limb, every breath. Like my body was made of stone, and the air itself too thick to swallow. My fingers twitched, brushing against damp moss and cool earth. When I opened my eyes, the world was hazy, sunlight fractured through a curtain of green leaves.

I was alive.

Barely.

A groan escaped my throat, low and broken, as I turned my head and tried to remember. The flight. The storm of memories. The fire in my wings. The fall. My last thought had been of Erya—her face soft and sleeping in my arms, and of Darius, standing in the clearing, shouting after me.

And then... darkness.

Now I lay in the heart of the Vale, surrounded by stillness. No rustling wind. No chirping birds. Just the sound of my heartbeat, slow and uneven, and the quiet whisper of something moving nearby.

A shadow passed over me.

I squinted through the haze.

The bird.

It wasn’t gone.

It stood perched on a low branch just above me, head tilted slightly, its golden eyes watching. Not a bird, not exactly. Too big. Too knowing. Its feathers shimmered with pale silver and smoke-gray, its wings tucked in tight. It didn’t make a sound, but I felt its presence like a hum inside my bones.

"You brought me here," I whispered, though my lips cracked with the words. "You didn’t let me die."

The bird didn’t answer—not in words. But something shifted in the air. A warmth pulsed through the clearing, like a slow breath exhaled by the forest itself. I could feel it—not just around me, but *inside* me. The Vale wasn’t just a place. It was alive. Watching. Listening.

Judging.

The bird hopped from its perch and landed softly near my hand. When I tried to push myself up, I winced. My shoulder throbbed. My ribs felt cracked. But I managed to sit, leaning heavily against the gnarled trunk of a tree.

"Why?" I asked.

The bird lifted its wings slightly, then tucked them again. Its eyes never left mine.

And then I heard it—not in sound, but in thought. A voice that wasn’t a voice. A presence folding into mine.

**Because you breathed. When all else failed, you breathed.**

I froze. The words weren’t spoken aloud. They were inside my mind, carried on wind and memory and something older than magic.

"You... can speak?"

**I am not a bird. I am the Guardian. The Vale breathes, and I am its breath. You were called. You came. You rose—and you fell. But you lived.**

I stared, breath caught in my throat. "Then the Vale... it chose me?"

**It did not choose. It waits. You reached. You did not surrender. That is the mark. That is what sets the Chosen apart.**

Tears blurred my vision. Not from pain, but from the weight of it all. "I’m not strong. I couldn’t even stay in the air."

**You stayed long enough. You found the breath. Now you must learn to hold it. Again.**

I shook my head, feeling the shame creep in. "I failed."

**No. You began.**

The bird—no, the *Guardian*—stepped closer. It stretched its wing and brushed the tip against my forehead. I didn’t flinch, though it felt like fire and snow touched my skin all at once. The pain in my chest eased. My muscles unwound. The fog behind my eyes lifted.

**Try again.**

I didn’t speak.

I didn’t need to.

My legs were shaky beneath me, but they held. I stood, breath shallow at first, then steadier. The forest watched me. Trees older than memory loomed like silent sentinels. The Guardian leapt into the air with a beat of its wings and circled me once before soaring upward.

I followed. frёewebηovel.cѳm

Not with wings.

Not yet.

I walked. Each step deeper into the heart of the Vale. Roots knotted underfoot. Light filtered through the trees in delicate strands. I came to a clearing where the earth sloped into a shallow valley of white wildflowers. In the center, a pool shimmered—its surface like glass.

The Guardian landed on a stone beside the pool. Its wings folded again, but its presence expanded, vast and ancient.

**Here, where the Vale touches sky, you will find the breath again.**

I looked around. The air shimmered slightly, as if some unseen veil hovered just beyond reach. I remembered the sensation from before—when my wings had first burst free and I’d taken flight. It hadn’t just been magic. It had been surrender. Connection.

"Will I fall again?" I asked.

**Yes. And again. And again. Until you don’t.**

I exhaled slowly. My hand pressed to my chest.

Then I closed my eyes.

And I reached.

Not outward—but inward.

Into the breath the Vale had given me. Into the thread that had pulled me from death’s edge and cradled me in the moss. It was there. A flicker. A flame. Not roaring. But steady.

My bones hummed.

My skin rippled.

And from my back came the wings—not torn or exploding this time, but unfolding. Rising like breath after stillness. Smooth and light and alive.

I opened my eyes.

The Guardian nodded once.

I ran.

Toward the slope.

Toward the edge.

And this time, when my feet left the ground—I *flew*.

The air caught me like it had been waiting. My wings cut through it with clarity and purpose. The trees below blurred. The sun burst through the clouds and bathed the Vale in gold. My heart raced, but it wasn’t fear this time. It was *joy*. Pure and wild and unshackled.

Higher.

Faster.

I whooped aloud, the sound echoing off the cliffs and drifting back like laughter.

I banked left, feeling the pull of the wind. I dipped, then rose, muscles working in rhythm. This wasn’t survival—it was flight. Real flight. Not magic alone, but mastery.

The Guardian soared beside me for a moment, then drifted below. I understood. This was mine now. Mine to shape. Mine to earn.

I flew until my limbs trembled—not from weakness, but from effort. Then I descended, slowly, like a feather on the breeze, landing in the same clearing where it had begun.

The Guardian waited.

**You are the Chosen, Luciana. Not because of strength. But because of breath. Because you do not give it away easily. Because when the storm came, you stayed. And now, you carry the Vale within you.**

Tears welled again. Not of sorrow.

Of knowing.

"I still have so much to do," I whispered. "So many people to protect."

**Then do it. Fly to them. Bring the breath with you. Let the world feel the wind of your wings.**

I knelt in the clearing, hand pressed to the earth.

"I’ll return," I promised. "When it’s time."

**You will. But next time, you will not come alone.**

I didn’t understand, not fully. But I nodded.

The Guardian spread its wings once more and rose into the trees. I stood, my heart filled with the hush of wind and the rhythm of breath.

I looked out over the Vale—lush, endless, waiting.

And then I turned toward the edge.

It was time to fly home.

This time, not as the broken Luna.

Not even as the Alpha’s mate.

But as the breath of something older. Stronger.

And wholly my own.