Blade institute: the unseen prophecy

31

The room was quiet, the only sound the soft rustling of the pages as I opened the old, leather-bound book Ethan had given me. The cover was worn, the edges frayed from years of use, and the pages inside were yellowed with age. The air around me felt charged, as if the book itself held a power that was just waiting to be unleashed.

I took a deep breath and began to read, my eyes scanning the handwritten words that filled the pages. The script was elegant but archaic, the language slightly different from what I was used to, but I could understand it well enough. The book was a mixture of history and prophecy, a chronicle of the bloodline I belonged to—one that had been hunted for centuries.

I flipped through the pages quickly, eager to find what I was looking for. The words blurred together as I skimmed the text, each passage offering glimpses into the lives of those who had come before me—my ancestors who had been powerful, feared, and ultimately, destroyed. But it wasn't their stories that I sought. I was searching for something specific—something about the pink eyes, about the darkness that surrounded me, about what it all meant.

Then, as I turned another page, my breath caught in my throat. There it was, in bold letters that seemed to leap off the page:

**The Last Daughter: Pink Eyes and the Darkness That Surrounds Her**

I stared at the title, a cold dread settling in my stomach. This was it—the story that would explain everything, the truth that had been kept from me for so long. With trembling hands, I began to read.

#### The Prophecy of the Last Daughter

**In the ancient times, when magic was young and the world was still full of wonder, there existed a bloodline like no other—a family blessed and cursed with a power so great that it could shape the very fabric of reality. Among them, there was one child born every few generations with eyes of pink, a sign of unimaginable power, a beacon of both hope and destruction.**

**But there would come a time, a time of great suffering and darkness, when the last of these children would be born—a daughter with eyes like the setting sun, filled with the magic of the ages. She would be the most powerful of all, the culmination of centuries of magic, trauma, and blood.**

I paused, my heart pounding in my chest as I continued to read, unable to tear my eyes away from the words that seemed to hold my fate within them.

**This daughter would be born not into love and light, but into a world of pain and suffering. She would be shaped by the traumas of her ancestors, molded by the darkness that had plagued her family for generations. She would carry within her the power of all those who had come before her, their magic, their knowledge, and their curses.**

**Her eyes, pink as the dawn, would be the mark of her power—a power that would surpass all others. She would be able to wield magic in ways that defied the understanding of even the most learned sorcerers. Elemental magic, the ability to control fire, water, air, and earth, would bend to her will. She would command the forces of nature, hold sway over life and death, and her potential would be limitless.**

I felt a shiver run down my spine as the words painted a picture of a girl, of me, with power beyond anything I had ever imagined. But the story was far from over, and the darkness that I had always felt lurking at the edges of my mind now seemed to press in closer, as if it, too, was eager to reveal itself.

**But with great power comes great peril. The last daughter, for all her strength, would not be a savior. No, her destiny was far darker. As she grew in power, so too would the darkness within her—the same darkness that had claimed so many of her kin. She would be drawn to it, unable to resist the call of the shadows that whispered to her in the night.**