Chapter Seven: A Truth Between Shadows
The silence between them felt louder than a scream.
Marissa sat at the edge of Mason's bed, her fingers nervously twisting the hem of her sweater. The room was dimly lit, the shadows from the rain outside flickering against the walls like ghosts whispering secrets neither of them wanted to hear.
Mason stood by the window, his back to her, tense as a drawn bowstring. He hadn't said a word since they got back. Not after the incident in the alley. Not after she nearly lost control of the power humming beneath her skin.
He was afraid.
Not for himself. For her.
"You knew," Marissa finally said, her voice low. "You knew all along what I could become."
Mason didn't move. "I hoped it wouldn't happen."
"But it is happening," she said, standing, her voice rising with the storm inside her. "You were supposed to help me—protect me—not lie to me!"
He turned to her then. His face was unreadable, his jaw clenched. "I didn't lie. I withheld. There's a difference."
Marissa scoffed, stepping away from him. "That's convenient."
She felt the tears sting the backs of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Not now. Not in front of him.
"I've been walking blind through all of this, Mason. I trusted you."
He moved closer. "And I never wanted to break that trust. But I knew if I told you everything too soon, it would destroy you."
Her breath hitched.
"Then tell me now," she said. "Tell me everything."
He hesitated, and in that moment, she saw the boy beneath the warrior. The one who still feared the consequences of the truth.
"There's more to the prophecy," Mason said quietly. "It doesn't just speak of a savior. It speaks of destruction. Of a darkness born within the light. If the chosen one loses control…" He looked at her, pained. "She becomes the very thing she's meant to stop."
Marissa felt the room spin.
"So you think I'll turn into some kind of… monster?"
"I think if you don't learn to control it, you might."
She stepped back, the hurt sharp and immediate. "And you were just going to keep that from me?"
"I was trying to protect you."
"No," she whispered. "You were trying to protect yourself from what I might become."
The words hung between them like a wound.
Then, Mason's voice softened, barely above a whisper. "I've watched over you for years, Marissa. Not because of the prophecy. Not because someone told me to. But because I saw you—before the magic, before the chaos. I loved you before I even knew what love was."
She froze.
"What?"
He stepped closer. "You heard me."
The air between them charged instantly. Marissa's heart pounded. "You're just saying that because you're scared of losing me."
"I'm saying it because it's true."
His hand reached out slowly, resting gently on her cheek. "I know I've made mistakes. But I would burn the world before I let it take you from me."
Something inside her shattered and healed in the same moment.
Her hands gripped his shirt as she pulled him to her, their lips meeting in a kiss that was desperate and tender all at once. Years of unspoken tension, buried emotions, and sleepless nights all spilled into that moment.
And when they broke apart, foreheads pressed together, she whispered, "I'm scared too. But I want to fight. With you."
Mason nodded, his eyes full of fire. "Then we fight together."
But before she could speak again, a sharp pain bloomed in her chest—an unfamiliar, burning sensation.
Marissa gasped, stumbling back.
Mason caught her. "Marissa? What's wrong?"
And then the vision hit.
A field of fire. Screams in the distance. A throne made of bones. And standing at the center
Herself.
But not her.
Her eyes black as ink. Her face cold as stone.
The darkness… had already begun.