Mira found Elowen still standing in front of the prophecy.
Her hands trembled slightly as she whispered the same words again.
"Through a thousand crossroads…"
Mira gently placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Dear?"
Elowen turned toward her.
For a moment she tried to speak, but the words never came.
Instead, tears slipped quietly down her face.
"Why me?" she whispered.
Her fingers tightened around the small ribbon tied at her wrist — the one her father had given her long ago.
Mira's expression softened immediately.
"Oh, child…"
She pulled Elowen into a warm embrace.
Elowen collapsed against her like the weight of the world had finally become too much to carry.
Both of them slowly sank to the chapel floor.
Elowen cried like a child who had seen far too much of the world.
Mira held her gently, brushing her braided hair.
Someone her age should be worrying about small things.
Friends.
Stories.
Dreams.
Not wars.
Not death.
Not prophecy.
Mira's thoughts wandered briefly.
Where are this girl's parents?
Is someone searching for her?
But there were some wounds no medicine could heal.
And Mira knew it.
At the chapel entrance, Rowan stood silently.
He had arrived moments earlier.
Long enough to see Elowen break.
Long enough to realize how much weight she had been carrying alone.
He did not interrupt.
Instead, he turned and quietly left the chapel.
By the time Mira and Elowen returned to the house, the sun had begun to sink lower in the sky.
Rowan was waiting inside.
He sat at the wooden table, elbows resting on his knees.
Thinking.
Mira pushed the door open.
"Oh!" she exclaimed when she noticed him.
"You're back already."
Rowan stood.
His eyes moved briefly to Elowen.
She looked calmer now.
The tears had stopped.
But something had changed in her expression.
Elowen stepped forward first.
"Did you speak with the council?"
Rowan nodded once.
"Yes."
"And?"
"They want to meet you."
The room fell silent.
Mira immediately frowned.
"The council?"
Rowan nodded again.
"Lord Alaric Thorn himself."
Mira crossed her arms.
"That man doesn't ask for meetings unless he wants something."
Elowen looked between them.
"What does he want from me?"
Rowan hesitated before answering.
"I believe he wants to know if the stories about you are true."
Elowen swallowed quietly.
Rowan continued.
"You predicted two ambushes."
"The soldiers are talking."
"And the council listens carefully when soldiers start whispering."
Mira shook her head.
"This is dangerous."
"Yes," Rowan agreed.
"But avoiding them would be worse."
He looked at Elowen.
"The meeting is tonight."
Elowen's fingers tightened slightly around the ribbon at her wrist.
Then she nodded.
"Alright."
The War Council chamber was colder at night.
Torches flickered along the stone walls.
Long banners hung from the ceiling.
At the far end of the room sat Lord Alaric Thorn.
He watched quietly as Rowan entered.
And behind him—
Elowen.
The girl with the red hair.
Several council members immediately began whispering.
Alaric raised a hand.
The room fell silent.
His sharp eyes studied her carefully.
"You must be Elowen."
His voice was calm.
Measured.
Elowen nodded once.
"Yes, my lord."
Alaric leaned back slightly in his chair.
"They tell me you predicted two Rhaedor ambushes."
Elowen hesitated.
"I… remembered them."
The council murmured again.
Alaric's gaze sharpened.
"Remembered?"
Elowen looked directly at him.
"As if I had seen them before."
Alaric said nothing for a moment.
Then his eyes slowly drifted toward her braided hair.
A faint strand of red glimmered in the torchlight.
"The prophecy speaks of a red flame," he said quietly.
"And yet I never expected prophecy to walk through my doors."
The room shifted uneasily.
Elowen felt every pair of eyes watching her.
Alaric stood slowly.
"Tell me something, Elowen."
"If the prophecy is true…"
He stepped closer.
"Will you save Virelden?"
Or destroy it?
Elowen felt every gaze in the room pressing down on her.
The council members watched with curiosity.
Some with doubt.
Others with something far less kind.
Fear.
She swallowed slowly.
"I don't know," she answered honestly.
A few council members scoffed.
Alaric tilted his head slightly.
"You don't know?"
The murmurs grew louder.
Elowen looked around the chamber.
How could she tell them this was only her fifth life?
And even then—what did that mean?
Who lives a life five times?
All she truly knew was this:
Every path she had taken had led to the same ending.
The torches flickered as a cold draft slipped through the hall.
Rowan remained near the entrance, arms folded, silent.
But his eyes never left her.
Alaric studied her carefully.
"You claim to remember the future," he said.
"Fragments," Elowen replied.
"Then tell us something useful."
The council leaned forward.
Elowen closed her eyes.
She searched through the memories she had—broken, incomplete, unreliable.
This was her longest life so far.
And still… nothing certain.
"I don't remember," she said quietly, lowering her gaze.
A sharp scoff echoed through the chamber.
Another councilman glanced at Rowan with open ridicule.
Whispers began to spread.
The curse… the curse…
Alaric straightened.
"Very well."
He waved a hand dismissively.
"That will be all."
Rowan stepped in to take back Elowen
"Have you grown so naive?" Alaric said coldly, not even looking at him.
He grab Elowen by hand and walked pass through the guards