Steven stood in the doorway of the music room, hidden in the shadows of the corridor. He'd come to check on them—to see how the rehearsal was going—but what he witnessed stopped him cold.The music.It filled the room, swelling and soaring, weaving through the air like something alive. Steven had heard the Stravinsky piece before—he'd listened to recordings, studied the sheet music, even played it himself once, long ago. But he'd never heard it like this.Never like this. It was the most beautiful thing he has ever heard in all his life that it made him wonder how unpredictable destiny unfolds sometimes.He watched his children—Chance at the keyboard, his fingers moving with a confidence and grace that belied his years; Wilfreda at the microphone, her voice pure and haunting, carrying the ancient melody as if she'd been born to sing it; and Christopher, standing tall with the violin tucked under his chin, his bow moving across the strings with an instinct that couldn't be taught.The

Steven and Fredrick drove back to the estate in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. The clouds above grew darker with every mile, swirling in patterns that defied nature—spirals within spirals, shadows within shadows. The city lights seemed dimmer, as if the darkness was slowly consuming everything.Steven gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white. He thought of Chance, Wilfreda, and Christopher. He thought of the prophecy. He thought of the sacrifice that was coming—the price that must be paid.Fredrick sat beside him, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. He'd seen the sky. He knew what it meant. And he knew that whatever came next, nothing would ever be the same.They arrived at the estate to find it eerily quiet—the lights dim, the windows dark. But inside, the family was gathered in the living room, laughing and talking as if it were any other evening. Julia was pouring tea. Flynn was telling a story. Priya was laughing at something Christopher had said. They were full of

Chance had followed his parents.He hadn't meant to eavesdrop—he'd only wanted to check on his father, to make sure he was okay after his outburst in the living room. The look on Steven's face had haunted him—the wild eyes, the trembling hands, the voice that cracked with barely contained despair. Something was terribly wrong, and Chance needed to know what.He moved through the darkness with practiced ease, his hand brushing against the wall for guidance. He heard their voices before he saw them—muffled, urgent, broken. He stopped outside the bedroom door, his heart pounding.And then he heard the words."One of them is going to die tonight."Chance froze. His blood ran cold. His breath caught in his throat."One of them is going to be the ultimate sacrifice. The prophecy... it says the three roots must become one. But to do that, one of them has to give everything. Their life. Their future. Everything."The words hit him like a physical blow. He stood there, paralyzed, as his mother

Brenda stood at her window, staring at the swirling clouds above. The sky was darker than she'd ever seen it—almost black, with strange patterns that seemed to move and shift like living things. She'd seen this before. Not with her own eyes, but in the old texts, the ones Doomdoer had shown her when they were still allies. The texts spoke of a time when the heavens would darken and the earth would tremble. A time when the ancient evil would rise. A time when the three roots would be called to fulfill their destiny.She knew what it meant.And she knew there was only one person who might have information that could help them—Seraphina.Despite everything—despite the betrayal, the pain, the years of animosity—Brenda found herself walking toward the basement, toward the cell where Seraphina was being held.The guards let her pass without question. They knew who she was. They knew she was family.She descended the stairs, her footsteps echoing against the concrete walls. The air grew col

The guard shook his head. "I have my orders. You're not to have contact with anyone outside this cell. Especially not the family.""I'm not asking to leave," Seraphina pressed, her voice rising. "I'm asking you to deliver a message. That's all. Just tell him I need to speak with him. Tell him it's about the prophecy."The guard turned away, his jaw set. "I can't help you."Seraphina's composure shattered. She slammed her hands against the bars, the metallic clang echoing through the cell block like a thunderclap."Why don't you just listen to me for once?" she barked, her voice raw with desperation. "What I have to tell him is very important. Please listen to me!"The guard turned back, his expression hard. "I told you. I have my orders. You're not to have contact with anyone outside this cell. Especially not the family.""I don't care about your orders!" Seraphina shouted, her voice cracking. "I care about saving lives! I care about stopping Vor'athal before she destroys everything!