Chapter 153- Truth Behind Enemy Lines
Tarria
The scent of ash and damp pine filled my lungs as I crept through the underbrush, my body low and my senses sharp. The forest surrounding Adrian’s territory was thick, but not dense enough to block the moonlight filtering through the treetops. My predecessor, Alira, moved just ahead, barely making a sound despite the twigs littering the forest floor.
They’d been traveling under cover of night for two days. Getting past the outer patrols had made clever distractions and intimate knowledge of Adrian’s men routines—knowledge I acquired from the last time I was here along with extra information Lexy collected while looking for me. I had memorized every detail.
“Are you still sure about this?” Alira murmured as they reached the ridge overlooking the southern compound.
My jaw tightened. “It’s the only way. If Adrian leaves our tribe without this proof, we will have to go to war and we lose everything.”
The compound below them stretched wide—military in design, tucked beneath natural cover. It was supposed to be a training camp, but I knew better. This was where Adrian's true operations happened. Hidden bunkers, encrypted messages, forbidden experiments.
And somewhere within those walls was the evidence we needed.
We waited until the last torch along the perimeter wall burned low, and the guards rotated out. Timing had to be perfect. As the final soldier turned his back, Alira nodded, and the two of us leapt into the shadows.
My heart pounded, but my breath remained steady. We slipped between buildings, ducked into blind spots, and moved with purpose toward the structure labeled *Nexus Hall*—a supposedly decommissioned archive. But according to the decoded map I had found back where they were holding me, this was Adrian’s private vault.
Inside, the air was dry and cold. Stale with silence. The walls were lined with locked drawers, artifact cases, and dusty scroll shelves. A long, central table held open ledgers and maps with various pins and annotations—troop movements, tribal alliances, and key supply routes.
I moved quickly to the far end, pulling out the camera from my side. “We take pictures of everything we can. Anything with a name, date, or symbol.”
Alira nodded and began photographing the ledgers with a small lens. I turned to a drawer marked with the crest of my own family. My hand hovered before I opened it, anxiety knotting in my chest.
Inside were classified documents—some I recognized from my father’s office, others I’d never seen. One parchment was addressed to Adrian himself.
My eyes scanned the letter. It spoke of a plan to replace Lexy’s rule with “a more balanced power”—using *ME* as a vessel of public trust. It confirmed Adrian’s orchestration of my kidnapping, his manipulation of my father, and even detailed the allies within the alliance who had pledged silent support in exchange for future dominion.
It was everything they needed.
But just as I reached for another file, a drawer beneath it slid open on its own.
Alira froze. “What was that?”
I pulled back, cautiously peering inside. Instead of more military records, this one held a thick leather-bound tome. I lifted it out and placed it on the table, brushing off the dust to read the title etched in faded gold:
*Bloodlines and Prophecies: Volume VII*
I blinked. “This doesn’t belong in a war archive.”
I opened the book, and immediately, a sketch caught my eye. It was a drawing—of me.
Not a modern portrait, but one done in ink centuries ago. The figure had my birthmark, my exact eyes, even my silver-streaked hair. Around the figure’s head was a sun on one side, a crescent moon on the other.
Alira looked over her shoulder. “That’s you.”
“No,” I whispered, flipping to the next page. “It’s *her*.”
Written below the image was a name: **Taria of the Veil**, “The Beacon of Dual Light.”
Alira’s brows furrowed. “That’s not your name exactly… but—”
“It’s a variation. A deliberate alteration.” I kept reading, my voice trembling. “According to this, the prophecy wasn’t just about one person born with light and darkness—it was about *a lineage*. A cycle. Every few generations, one emerges.”
I turned the page and read aloud:
“The Beacon must walk both flame and shadow. She will be hunted by those who wish to use her, feared by those who do not understand her, and loved by the one she must never trust. Her rise signals the breaking of the old order.”
I stopped cold.
“Loved… by the one she must never trust,” I repeated slowly. “Adrian.”
Alira’s face darkened. “He’s known this. Probably longer than your father. That’s why he wanted you. Not just for political gain. He believes he can control the prophecy through you.”
“But this changes everything. Adrian don’t love me, and I have no mate or interest in anyone.” I spoke. “The prophecy isn’t about crowning a queen. It’s about *ending control*. Breaking systems. Rebuilding from ashes.”
I snapped the book shut and shoved it into my satchel. “We bring this too.”
Before Alira could respond, footsteps echoed down the corridor.
My eyes widened. “We must go. Now.”
We grabbed the last of the papers, tucked the camera away, and darted toward the emergency exit we mapped out earlier. The door barely creaked as it opened into a supply hall. From there, it was a blur—tight corridors, near-misses, and breath held between heartbeats.
Once we cleared the perimeter, we ran—hard and fast through the forest until we reached the neutral border. Only then did I collapse beside a fallen log, clutching the satchel like it held my soul.
Alira knelt beside me, breath ragged. “We got what we came for. Maybe more.”
I nodded, sweat dripping from my brow. “Adrian’s betrayed the alliance, yes—but he’s also distorted the prophecy for his own gain. If we don’t reveal the truth, others may follow in his path.”
“We give it to Lexy to expose everything,” Alira agreed.
As the stars faded and the first glow of dawn broke over the trees, I looked out at the horizon—not with fear, but with fierce resolve.
“They wanted me to be a weapon,” I said. “But I’ll be a storm.”
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