“Given of Sithistra, the last elven-born of Nor Doru, will conceive a child with another elven-born. Bound in the blood of old Eldenvalla, that child must perish in the Rift and then reemerge to save the Deepnight from destruction.” Blood rushed in my ears. Whose child must perish in the fucking Rift? “Who is the other elven-born?” I asked. But I already knew. “You.”
