That’s what she was, and what she had been for as long as she could remember.
The walls around her had closed in over the years, making the mansion increasingly unbearable, and drawing her ever more to the world outside her bedroom window.
Rain rattled against the windowpanes, creating an eerie melody when combined with the howl of the wind cutting through the power lines. Watching the streaks of water coursing down the windows, Prophecy ignored the ramblings of her blood-mother, Iona, and kept her focus on the dark garden outside.
She slowly ran the brush down her long auburn hair, smoothing away the knots and tangles.
Something stirred in the night and her gaze shifted there. The hunting group crossed the grounds towards the gates. There were eleven of them tonight, one less than last night because one had fallen. Talk of it had reached her even before her mother knew. The walls had ears in this house and Prophecy knew the owner of them.
A chance meeting with the other bloodline that lived in this city had led to a fight in which her family had lost a son.
Not that she cared.
What was it to her who died out on the hunt? She didn’t know them, or anyone outside a set sphere of people.
Her brown eyes followed the group as they reached the gates and she watched them slip into the darkness beyond. She knew where they were going. They were heading down into the city, down to a place she’d never been. Losing sight of them, she glanced at the high stone wall that surrounded the grounds.
It was the final barrier between her and the city. The outside wall of her prison.
A wall she longed to breach.