False Prophet

Nine years of gray grief and antiseptic hospital air evaporated in a heartbeat, replaced by the suffocating scent of crushed wildflowers and the weight of a golden sky. Autumn looked down, her fingers still trembling as they clutched the empty navy-blue pouch, only to realize the hospital gown was gone-replaced by shimmering, gossamer fabrics that felt like woven moonlight. Before she could process the transition, the sound of unsheathing steel sang through the air, and she found herself staring into the piercing, amber eyes of Prince Valerius of Orynthia. He didn't look at her with the pity she was used to, but with a terrifying, righteous fury; to him, she wasn't a broken girl from another world, but the heralded Fallen Goddess of Solarix, a beautiful omen of death sent to bewitch his heart and dismantle his kingdom.