Elliot's POV
The soot-black feathers of a raven flutter before my eyes, and for a moment, the world hushes as if holding its breath. The witch, shrouded in a cloak that whispers secrets with every fold, extends her bony hand toward the moon, her lips parting with a truth I can't afford to ignore.
"Elliot Chambers," she intones, her voice like the crackle of dry leaves underfoot, "will bring disaster and bad news upon this kingdom."
My heart thuds against my ribcage, each beat a drum of dread. The icy grip of fear clutches at my spine, but I cannot look away, cannot deny the weight of her words. She has never been wrong before.
"Curse or prophecy?" I ask, though I'm unsure I want the answer. The silver glow of the moon bathes her face, revealing the wrinkles etched deep by time and knowledge- knowledge that could damn us all.
"Both," she replies, and the raven caws, a sound that breaks the stillness and echoes into the night.