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Chapter 32 - The Oracle Of Shattered Glass

The journey to the Oracle began before dawn.

Kael, Seraphine, and Commander Tharion rode through dead forests and broken moonlight, the ruins of Nerideth fading behind them like ghosts.

Every step forward weighed heavier than the last. Not because of the prophecy—but because neither Kael nor Seraphine could look at each other without thinking:

Golden blood. Heartbreak. Death.

And still, they rode together.

They found the Oracle's tower hidden beyond the Sea of Bones, surrounded by petrified trees that whispered with windless voices.

It was said she could see all that was, all that is, and all that might be—but never at once.

The Oracle was blind in one eye and mad in the other.

Her tower was hollow.

A spiral of mirrors and broken glass that reflected not just your face—but your thoughts, sins, and desires.

Kael saw himself as a child, flames licking his skin.

Seraphine saw herself alone, weeping beside a bed where no one ever sat.

And when they reached the top, the Oracle was already waiting.

An old woman, frail as paper, her hair long as shadows, her right eye pure black—and the other a jagged shard of glass that moved with a will of its own.

She smiled.

"You seek the truth of the flame and the heart," she said. "But truth does not come without pain."

Kael stepped forward. "Tell us what the prophecy means. Tell us how to stop it."

The Oracle tilted her head. "You cannot stop what was never meant to be written."

Seraphine's hands curled into fists. "Then tell me what I am."

The Oracle's eye flickered. The mirrors around them shimmered.

"Your name is Seraphine of the Crescent Moon. Born beneath an eclipse. Born of pain and promise."

Kael frowned. "What eclipse? Her family never mentioned—"

"They wouldn't," the Oracle said, voice sharp. "Because they were never meant to raise her."

Seraphine froze. "What?"

The Oracle stepped closer. "You were not born to them. You were found. Swaddled in silk, bloodied and marked. Left on their doorstep the night the moons bled. Your 'parents' took you in not out of love, but out of debt."

Kael's blood ran cold.

"What debt?"

The Oracle's mirrored eye flared. "They made a bargain with the old gods. To give one child… in exchange for power."

Seraphine stumbled backward.

"No," she whispered. "They… they said I was cursed, but I thought…"

"They were meant to sacrifice you," the Oracle said simply. "But they couldn't. Not in time. The mark of golden blood faded, and so they kept you, resentfully. Bitterly."

Tears filled Seraphine's eyes. "So I was never wanted."

"You were meant to die," the Oracle said softly. "And yet, you lived. That is your sin. And your salvation."

Kael stepped forward, fury and confusion boiling in him.

"So the prophecy. Her blood. My name. What is it?"

The Oracle sighed.

"There are three paths," she said. "In one, you burn the world trying to save her. In another, she kills you to save it. In the third…"

"What?" Kael demanded.

"In the third," the Oracle whispered, "you both die, and the world chooses something worse."

Silence fell.

Seraphine looked up. "Then is there no future where we live?"

The Oracle tilted her head. "No future that I can see. But the future is not a road—it is a river. And rivers can change."

She gestured to a small stone basin filled with liquid mirror.

"If you truly wish to change your fate," she said, "you must leave behind what binds you to it."

Kael and Seraphine stared at the basin.

"What do we offer?" Kael asked.

"Something you love," she said. "Something real. Not blood. Not bone. But heart."

Kael reached into his cloak, pulling out the scorched letter from his mother—the one she had written before dying.

Seraphine held her pendant—the only thing she had ever kept from her childhood.

They dropped them in together.

The mirror hissed.

Then it split open.

They saw themselves—years older, standing atop a ruined palace. Seraphine held a sword that burned with silver flame. Kael's wings were fully formed, burning bright and black. They were not alone.

All the kingdoms stood united behind them.

A war was coming.

But they were ready.

Then the vision shifted—to Seraphine dead, Kael cradling her in his arms as the sky turned red.

Then again—to Kael struck through the heart, whispering her name.

Three futures. Three deaths.

One war.

As the mirror closed, the Oracle said one last thing.

"You were never cursed, Seraphine," she whispered. "You were chosen. And you, Raezriel, were not made to destroy. You were made to choose."

Kael turned to her. "Choose what?"

She smiled, sad and knowing.

"When to let go."

And with that, the tower shuddered.

The Oracle turned to dust.

And the mirrors cracked.

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