I stare at Lucian for a long moment after he says it, because the words do not settle easily and they do not sound like something a man chained in a dungeon should be confident enough to declare, and yet he looks at me as if he has just stated an obvious truth.
“You are the rising.”
The phrase echoes in my head louder than the female voice ever did, and I search his face for mockery or manipulation, but what I find instead is certainty.
“What the hell does that even mean,” I ask finally, my voice tight and edged with frustration. “You do not get to drop something like that and pretend it explains anything.”
He watches me carefully, his dark eyes tracing the faint glow that still lingers behind my own.
“It is your power they are waiting for,” he says calmly.
“Who,” I demand. “The crea
