Chapter 84: chapter 84

Just before midnight, the castle grounds were silent, cloaked in silver mist and hushed wind. Torches flickered along the outer walls, and most souls had long retreated to sleep. From the edge of the castle’s southern wall, Ivar stood cloaked in shadow, watching silently. His gaze fixed on two figures riding out into the night—Caspian and Felix.He had learned of their late departure from Liam, his elven informant—that they were headed to visit an Oracle once trusted by his father, the late King Magnus. Without hesitation, Ivar took the forest’s hidden trails, he moved quickly, taking the less-traveled path, keeping his distance.By the time he reached Ealdor, the moon had begun its descent and the village was cloaked in a pale, haunting glow. Ivar stayed hidden within the dense foliage, his dark cloak blending into the woods. From his place in the shadows, he watched Caspian and Felix arrive and enter a small, timeworn hut. The light inside flickered for a while—brief conversation, perhaps revelation—and then faded. The two men stepped out again, their faces unreadable. They departed wordlessly, vanishing into the trees.But Ivar remained. Ivar didn’t follow them. Instead, his gaze turned to the one they had come for: the oracle, Ingrid.He watched her for hours.Her hut was nestled beside a stream that whispered through the woods. She moved with calm precision, her hands trailing lightly over familiar stones and crooked fences. She wasn’t hurried, nor afraid. Blind as she was, she appeared content—almost too ordinary. But Ivar wasn’t convinced by appearances. He followed her movements, hidden in the treeline like a shadow pinned to the earth.She gathered wood. She tended to her small garden. She sat for a long time on the porch, humming a melody only the wind seemed to know.But then came dusk. And with it, a silence so gentle it almost felt sacred.Ingrid walked toward the nearby stream, holding an empty wooden bucket with both hands. Ivar stepped out of the shadows then, his boots silent against the mossy path.Just as she lowered the bucket into the stream with some difficulty, he moved beside her and caught the rope, pulling it up for her in one smooth motion.“You don’t have to help me,” she said, her voice soft but steady, a small smile forming on her lips.“You looked like you were struggling,” Ivar replied, placing the now-filled bucket gently at her feet. “So I helped.”Ingrid tilted her head, her sightless eyes seeming to search the air around his voice. “You certainly have a kind soul, young man. I appreciate your help.”Ivar gave a quiet chuckle, surprised at how gently her words settled in the moment. “How do you know I’m a young man?”She didn’t answer that. Instead, she only smiled, as if holding on to secrets she had no intention of sharing.“Can I trouble you a bit more?” she asked. “Would you carry the bucket back to my hut? It’s not far.”“Of course,” he said, lifting the bucket easily. “Lead the way.”Ingrid turned and walked with slow, careful steps. Ivar followed closely, keeping pace. The village path was uneven, the kind of trail that twisted around old trees and rose roots, yet she navigated it with grace—her hand occasionally brushing the edges of familiar stones, her pace unshaken.“You seem to know this path well,” Ivar remarked, curious. “It doesn’t seem like your blindness causes you any trouble.“It hasn’t stopped me from knowing,” she said, then paused. “It’s what I know that might stop me someday… might even lead to my demise.”That caught Ivar’s attention. He studied her more closely now, more curiously. “You’re right,” he said. “Knowing too much is dangerous… especially when you don’t bother hiding it.”Ingrid smiled again. She didn’t deny it.They reached her hut, its windows glowing softly from a fading fire inside. Ivar placed the bucket by the steps, careful not to spill a drop.“Thank you,” she said, her hand brushing the doorframe as if to reassure herself of its presence. “It’s rare to meet someone who offers help without asking for something in return.”“You live here alone?” he asked.“I do,” the woman said with a faint, knowing smile. “Come inside.”Ivar took a half-step back. “No, don’t trouble yourself. I’m fine.”But she tilted her head as if hearing more than he spoke aloud. “You carry too many questions inside your head. They rattle like bones.”His eyes narrowed, caught off guard. “Will you answer me, then?”She smirked. “I will, if I know the answers.”Without another word, Ivar ducked under the low arch of her doorway and stepped inside.The inside of the hut was simple yet oddly strange. Herbs hung in bundles from the ceiling, and a small fire crackled in the hearth, casting a golden glow across weathered shelves and worn rugs. The air smelled of dried lavender and something faintly metallic.“You shouldn’t let strangers in,” he said, eyes scanning the room with quiet suspicion.“My door is open to everyone,” she replied easily, folding her hands. “People come needing truth… and I offer what I know. My name is Ingrid.”Ivar hesitated, debating whether to reveal his name at all. “I’m Ivar,” he said at last.Ingrid turned to face him fully, her milky white  eyes seeming to see straight through the veil of his silence. She took a step closer—too close and lifted her chin slightly.“Those,” she said softly, “are magnificent.”Ivar blinked, confused. He glanced behind him, then back to her. “What are you talking about?”“Those wings of yours,” Ingrid said, her voice barely above a whisper.His body tensed. He instinctively stepped back, startled by her words.“You… can see them?” he asked, his voice low, cautious.“Yes,” she replied. “And I know who you are.”A tightness formed in his jaw. “So you knew this all along… and still dared to let me in?”Ingrid gave a low, unsettling laugh—a sound that curled around the walls like smoke. A coldness stirred in the pit of Ivar’s stomach.“You won’t harm me,” she said calmly, “not until you’re sure what part I played.”He stepped forward, eyes hardening. “Then tell me. What did you do, Ingrid?”She didn’t flinch. “I gave them the key.”Ivar’s brow furrowed. “The key?”“To unlock the chaos,” she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.“What the hell does that even mean?” His voice was sharp now, demanding.Ingrid’s face turned solemn. “Mark my words, boy. Every soul will answer for their sins. The ones who unleashed this storm… and the ones destined to end it. There are things you are meant to do, Ivar. Fated. I only paved the path. You must walk it.”His hands curled into fists, fury igniting behind his eyes. “So it was you,” he said through clenched teeth. “You were behind it all.”Ingrid didn’t deny it. “It’s fate, Ivar. I follow mine, just as you follow yours.”In one swift movement, Ivar crossed the room, grabbed her by the throat, and shoved her hard against the wooden wall. The firelight flickered, casting shadows across his face, twisting his features with rage.“You dragged an innocent soul into this darkness,” he growled. “There are people suffering because of you. And here you are—smiling like you’re proud of it.”Ingrid struggled, her breath catching in her throat, yet her expression didn’t change.“We’re all bound to destiny,” she gasped. “I am no different.”“You worthless old hag,” he snarled. “I should kill you before you destroy anyone else.”Her voice was a whisper, but it hit him like thunder.“Then do it. Kill me, Ivar.”He pulled his sword free in one hand. The blade gleamed, silver and deadly in the firelight. His arm trembled—from the chaos storming inside him.And yet… he couldn’t do it.He stared at her—this blind, fragile woman who had somehow seen more than anyone else. Her face was calm, almost peaceful. She was ready.But Ivar wasn’t.With a sound of disgust, he released her and stepped back. Ingrid coughed and slid down the wall, regaining her breath slowly.Ivar sheathed his blade and turned toward the door.“I’ll be watching you now,” he said, his voice cold. “And if I hear even a whisper of your voice stirring the wrong ears again, I’ll return… and I won’t hesitate next time.”He didn’t wait for her reply.The door creaked open and slammed shut behind him, swallowed by the wind and darkness outside.Ingrid remained where she was, her breath ragged, her voice barely audible.She whispered into the fire. “Watch me, Ivar… The stars are watching you too.”