"Unless fate has other plans? What do you mean?" Mireya asked, her brow furrowing.
Daelviaha shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "I mean..." She hesitated. "There's something else. Something I only realized later."
"Tell me," Mireya insisted, leaning forward.
"When my ancestors created the sword," Daelviaha started, "they were aware that our blood only would not suffice to conceal it. They added another condition—one they believed impossible to fulfill." She paused. "The blade will only answer to two witches: one whose blood sealed the iron, and... a living witch marked and cursed by the shadows."
Mireya's pulse quickened. "Marked?"
Daelviaha nodded grimly. "The blade will remain lost unless both conditions are met. I assumed it would never be found because... well... I have no children. No one carries my family's blood anymore but..."
Mireya's thoughts churned. "And a living witch cursed by the shadows..." She hesitated, then asked, "But what?"
Daelviaha drew in a shaky breath. "I promised myself that I would not speak of this," she whispered, her voice choked with tears. For the first time, Mireya saw her mentor's eyes well up.
"That night..." Daelviaha's voice faltered. "The night you were born... I... I went searching for the blade. I'd lost hope long ago, but I tried one last time. I broke my promise... I swore I'd never get involved with shadows again. But that night—it was seven years since Vohrer... since I lost him." Her voice cracked, and she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
"I thought... I thought if I tried once more, maybe I'd find the blade. Maybe I'd make things right." Her gaze drifted to the fire. "Instead, I found your mother... Elzara. She was already gone, but you... you were still fighting." Daelviaha's breath shuddered. "I saved you that night."
Her voice caught, and her hand went to her chest as though holding back a grief too heavy to bear.
Mireya's chest tightened. "You never told me."
"Because I was afraid," Daelviaha admitted. "Afraid I'd lose you too."
Mireya swallowed hard, her thoughts racing. "If the blade requires someone like that... maybe... maybe Uhrin knows about this."
"Uhrin is dangerous," Daelviaha warned. "She's chosen her side. If she knows about the blade, she won't let you find it."
"Then I need to move fast," Mireya said firmly. "Tell me everything you know. Where should I start?"
Daelviaha sighed and closed her eyes. "The riddle said, 'Beneath the sky's reflection cold and wide...' I believe it's hidden near water. A river, perhaps." Her expression grew distant. "There's a place—a cave beneath the river where your parents... where they died."
Mireya's breath caught. "You think the blade is there?"
"It's possible," Daelviaha admitted. "The place fits the riddle. The river's surface mirrors the heavens, and the water runs cold. And those waters... they're filled with the sorrow of the lost."
Mireya's hands clenched. "Then that's where I'll begin."
"You can't go alone," Daelviaha warned. "And if Uhrin suspects you're searching for the blade... she will come for you."
"Let her try," Mireya said coldly. "I'm not afraid of her."
Daelviaha grasped her arm tightly. "You should be."
"And...there's something else," Daelviaha whispered. "Your scar... it's not what you think."
Mireya blinked. "My scar?"
"It's a mark," Daelviaha explained. "A mark placed by the shadow that cursed you. I used my magic to conceal it, to make it appear as nothing more than a scar. But the enchantment... it will only lift once the shadow that marked you is captured or killed."
Mireya stared at her, stunned. "So all this time..."
"I kept it hidden to protect you," Daelviaha said softly. "You were never just a key to finding the blade. I kept you because... because you were a child. Because I saw you as my own." Her voice trembled. "I believed you were a gift from Vohrer."
Mireya felt her throat tighten. "You really believed that?"
"I did," Daelviaha said. "And I still do."
Silence remained between them for a minute. The weight of the truth drifting like an icy breeze. But beneath that chill, Mireya felt something warm—a flicker of belonging. It is only now when she truly understood what she meant to Daelviaha.