Prophecy

Chapter 63: Confirmation

*Grace's POV*

The last thing I saw before my world nearly shattered was the Horseman of Death, his eyes burning with a vicious hunger as he raised his scythe high above Xavia. In that horrifying moment, I knew our bond was the only thing to keep us alive, the only thread tethering us to hope. My heart pounded in sync with Xavia's, a frantic rhythm that echoed through the tense, crackling air as we fought side by side.

Every instinct screamed at me to protect her, to shield her from the threat, but... I had to trust in our connection and the unbreakable bond that had always guided us through the darkest of times.

The atmosphere was suffocating, heavy with the stench of death and the weight of impending doom. Every movement felt like a struggle, every breath like a battle for survival. Xavia and I had moved as one, our bodies in perfect harmony as we danced through the utter chaos, but the fear of what was to come harrowed the edges of my mind.

The Horseman's presence was overwhelming, his aura a black void that threatened to swallow us whole. Yet, amidst the terror, there was a burning resolve within me—a determination to fight, survive, and protect Xavia with every ounce of strength I had. Even if that meant we had to use her as bait.

In one frightening instant, I saw it—the Horseman's scythe plunged into Xavia's chest, the cruel blade twisting as it tore through her flesh. Time seemed to slow, the world narrowing down to that single, nightmarish moment. The sight of it sent a shockwave of terror through me, and before I could even comprehend what had happened, a scream ripped from my throat.

Raw and desperate.

The searing pain I felt wasn't just hers—it was mine, too. The agony echoed through my chest as if the blade had carved into me as well.

I looked down, my breath hitching as I saw a huge red mark forming on my skin, a mirror of Xavia's injury. Even Death's scythe couldn't entirely separate us. Our bond was far more than emotional; it was physical, binding our fates together in a way that defied reason—the Prophecy was confirmed.

I am her protector; I hold her heart.

The pain was unbearable, a fiery agony that threatened to tear me apart from the inside out. But I couldn't afford to lose focus—not now, not with so much at stake. I forced my gaze back up, fighting through the overwhelming torment that clawed at my consciousness, determined to stay strong for her, for us.

Seeing my mate like that was killing me.

But even as Death leaned in for the final blow, I made my move.

I poured every ounce of my love and desperation into a deep and powerful force. I practically prayed it would reach Xavia, giving her the strength she so desperately needed. My heart ached with the intensity of my emotions, and I willed that energy to surge through me, straight to her.

Just as the scythe struck her, a brilliant, searing white flame erupted from her body—pure and scorching, a testament to her unyielding spirit.

But it didn't stop there.

A relentless torrent of black flames surged almost immediately, intertwining with the white fire in a deadly dance. The flames merged, their combined fury blazing with an intensity that shook the very air around us. The Horseman of Death, once so menacing, was now completely engulfed in this fiery storm, the black and white flames consuming him with a ferocity that matched our combined willpower.

I watched in awe as Xavia, with every ounce of strength she had left, summoned two long, jagged-edged swords from the swirling chaos around us. Her hands trembled, her body battered and broken, but her determination was unwavering. She let out a defiant cry as she raised the swords high, their dark and light energy crackling with raw power.