Chapter 522
Author: Youngblood
last update2026-05-11 21:51:54

Priya looked at the clock on the wall. 6:15 PM. Forty-five minutes.

"My hair is a mess. I'm not dressed for—" She stood abruptly, her hands fluttering. "What am I supposed to wear? What is happening?"

Janelle laughed, rising to join her. "Okay, calm down. Let's find you something."

They hurried to Priya's bedroom, Janelle pulling open the closet doors while Priya stood frozen, her mind spinning.

"What is he up to?" Priya wondered aloud. "He's been so distant. So distracted. And now—"

"Now he's
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  • Chapter 737

    Christopher hesitated, then sat on the bench beside Wilfreda, his body tense. "What is it?"Chance took a deep breath, steadying himself. "When I followed our parents upstairs earlier. I wanted to check on Dad—he was acting strange. But when I got to their room, I heard them talking." He paused, his voice cracking. "The prophecy... it requires a sacrifice. One of the three roots has to give everything. Their life. Their future. Everything."Christopher's face went pale. "What?""One of us is going to die tonight," Wilfreda said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "The prophecy says the three roots must become one. But to do that, one of us has to give everything."Christopher stared at them, his mind reeling. He thought of everything they'd been through—the battles, the losses, the moments of hope and despair. He thought of Gerald, who had given his life so they could live. He thought of Janelle, of the future they'd planned. He thought of the family that had taken him in, love

  • Chapter 736

    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

  • Chapter 735

    Fredrick spoke instead, his voice steady but heavy. "The prophecy says the debt must be paid. Not in blood, but in sacrifice. Not in death, but in rebirth." He paused. "Vor'athal can only be defeated if the three roots become one—truly one. And that unity requires a sacrifice. One of you must give something up. Something precious. Something irreplaceable."The room was silent. The weight of his words pressed down on them all.Chance looked at Wilfreda, then at Christopher. He thought of everything they'd been through—the battles, the losses, the moments of hope and despair. He thought of Gerald, who had given his life so they could live. He thought of Chloe, of the future they'd planned. He thought of his family, gathered around him in the darkness."Whatever it is," he said, his voice steady, "we'll face it together."Wilfreda nodded. "Together."Christopher met their gazes. "Together."Steven watched them, his heart swelling with pride and breaking with sorrow. They were so brave. S

  • Chapter 734

    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

  • Chapter 733

    Steven stood by his car, the wind still whipping at his coat, the dark clouds swirling overhead. His hand trembled as he pulled out his phone, his fingers fumbling with the screen. He dialed Fredrick Wheler's number, his heart pounding in his chest.The line rang twice before a gruff voice answered. "Steven? It's late. What's wrong?"Steven closed his eyes, his voice steady despite the chaos in his heart. "It has begun."There was a long pause on the other end. Then Fredrick spoke, his voice heavy with understanding. "I'll be there. Where are you?""The bridge. The one over the river.""I know it. I'll be there in twenty minutes."The line went dead. Steven pocketed his phone and leaned against the car, his eyes fixed on the swirling clouds above. He didn't know how long he stood there—minutes, hours, he couldn't tell. Time seemed to have lost all meaning.***Fredrick hung up and walked to his window. He looked out at the sky—the same dark, swirling clouds that Steven saw. His blood

  • Chapter 732

    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

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