The Shadowbound Prophecy

Chapter 28: Shattered Resolve

The world seemed to blur and fade as Harry drifted in and out of consciousness, his body numb and his mind adrift. He felt weightless, as if he were floating in a vast, endless sea—untethered, lost. But even in this dreamlike state, there was something tugging at the edges of his awareness, a faint pulse, a reminder of the power that still lived within him. It stirred, restless and hungry, like a caged beast.

But for now, it was quiet.

The first thing Harry felt when he began to wake was the warmth. Not the oppressive heat of battle or the suffocating energy of his unleashed power, but something softer, more comforting. He could feel the rough texture of a blanket draped over him, and a faint crackling sound nearby—the sound of a fire.

Slowly, the world started to come back into focus. His eyelids fluttered, and he blinked, the dim light of the fire casting long, flickering shadows around the small cave they had taken refuge in. It was a modest shelter, with jagged rock walls and a narrow opening that let in the cold night air. The fire was the only source of warmth, its orange glow dancing on the walls.

Seraphina was sitting beside the fire, her knees drawn up to her chest, staring into the flames with a distant expression. Her hair, now a little tangled from the journey, shimmered in the firelight, and her face was etched with exhaustion and worry. She hadn't noticed Harry waking yet, her gaze lost in the flickering embers.

Harry tried to sit up, but a sharp pain shot through his muscles, and he winced, letting out a soft groan. At the sound, Seraphina's head snapped toward him, her eyes widening.

"Harry!" she gasped, scrambling to her feet and rushing to his side. She knelt beside him, her hands hovering over him as if unsure where to touch or how to help. "You're awake... finally."

He tried to smile, but it felt weak. "How long...?"

"A few hours," she said softly, her voice a mixture of relief and concern. "You collapsed after the fight. You've been out ever since."

Harry nodded slightly, trying to process everything. His mind was still fuzzy, the weight of exhaustion lingering in his bones. "Victoria...?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

"She's alive," Seraphina replied, though her face darkened. "Barely. I've done what I can to stop the bleeding and stabilize her, but..." She trailed off, her expression pained. "She needs more than I can give her. We're running out of time."

Harry felt a pang of guilt twist in his chest. They were all in this mess because of him. He had lost control again, allowed his power to spiral out of control, and nearly killed a god in the process. And now Victoria was paying the price for his weakness.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice cracking. "This is my fault."

Seraphina shook her head fiercely, her hand resting on his shoulder. "No, Harry. Don't say that. You saved us back there. If you hadn't fought back—if you hadn't unleashed your power—we wouldn't be alive right now."

Her words were meant to comfort him, but they only deepened his guilt. He hadn't fought back with control. He had let the power consume him, driven by anger and desperation. He had felt the god's life slip between his fingers, and for a moment, it had felt right—just. But now, in the aftermath, all he felt was shame.

"I couldn't stop it," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I almost killed him, Seraphina. I wanted to."

Seraphina's gaze softened, and she knelt closer, her face inches from his. "You didn't kill him, though. You stopped. You came back."

"But what if I can't next time?" Harry's voice was raw, filled with the fear that had been gnawing at him since the battle. "What if I lose control for good?"