The word was scribbled, circled multiple times in what must have been Thane’s handwriting. But no explanation, no context. Just that one word. Her hands shook as she stared at it. A flood of emotions rushed through her, her throat tightening. She glanced up at the Hunter. “This is why he tried to kill me.”
His brow furrowed as he studied her. “I think so, yes. Hard to say for certain. The notes are vague, but from what I’ve pieced together...” He shifted his stance, arms crossing over his chest. “You tested a theory. You entered the Void, and when you returned, you lost your memories. Perhaps all of them. Thane might have believed sending you back was the only way to recover what you’d lost. But that part of his research is gone.”
Elara blinked, trying to process the rush of information. “Gone?”
“Osin.” The Hunter’s voice was hard, clipped, as he flipped to the back of the journal, revealing torn pages, entire sections ripped clean from the spine. “He either destroyed the rest or hid it away. I’ve been trying to complete the equations, but I keep hitting dead ends.”
He sank into the chair at his desk, rubbing a rough hand over his face. His shoulders sagged, weighed down by more than just exhaustion. He’d always seemed so unbreakable to Elara, but now… sitting there, he looked bled dry.
“I wasn't... I didn't think it right to tell you.”
“How long have you known?”
His lips thinned. “Not long.”
Her gaze lingered a second too long, and as if sensing it, he glanced up, catching her eye before pulling something from his pocket. A small piece of parchment. The edges were frayed, the paper itself weathered and fragile, as if it had been folded and unfolded a hundred times. Like he carried it with him everywhere. For years.
“I found this,” he said, his voice softer than she’d ever heard it. “The night Thane tried to kill you. It was in his room.”
He held it out to her, and for a moment, Elara hesitated. Almost afraid to read the truth it held. Her fingers brushed the worn edges as she gently unfolded it, heart hammering in her chest.
What the Void consumes, only death can retrieve.
“I didn’t know. I didn’t know what the two of you were caught up in. All I had was this note. I’d seen him, sneaking around, watching you at court.” He paused, shaking his head, bitterness flashing in his eyes. “It read like the ravings of a madman. And Thane… my brother. He was always different. I thought he’d lost his mind, dragged you into it with him. I thought I was saving you both.” A harsh, hollow laugh escaped him. “But instead, I damned us all.”
She could barely breathe through the lump in her throat, but she forced the words out. “So, what do we do now?”
Her question seemed to bring a bit of life back into his eyes. “Back when you lived in Arinthel, there was only one seal on you. You and Thane... you were trying to figure out how to remove it. Along with the rest of your experiments. But you couldn’t do it. You didn’t haveTranscendental Bonds. I think if we break the Binding Sigil now, it could trigger something—maybe help you recover your memories.”
Elara nodded, her mind spinning with the possibilities. But then she hesitated, brow furrowing. “You said you needed my help… to save Thane.”
He nodded again, but she could feel the weight of what he wasn’t saying yet.
“What happened to him?”
The Hunter leaned forward, bracing his hands on his knees, eyes locked on hers. “After he tried to kill you…” He shook his head, as if the thought itself was too absurd to entertain.“When Osin found out what he had done—andwhy… he used the research you both had uncovered. Opened the channels, the currents, and trapped Thane inside.”
Chapter 39
She had a room in his house.
A room he made up just for her.
The rest of the Hunter’s manor seemed to be crumbling, time wearing away at every corner. But Elara's room—thisroom—was different. It was as though someone had taken great care to preserve it. The furniture, though battered and bruised, had been scrubbed clean, and the bed was made with fresh linens, not a speck of dust in sight. Elegant curtains hung from the posts of the four-poster bed, swaying ever so slightly in the breeze that slipped through the cracks of the old walls.
Her gaze drifted to the balcony, where dying ivy clung desperately to the railing, weaving in and out of the wrought iron. Elara froze when she saw a lake. She hadn’t noticed it when she first arrived, hidden behind the manor’s twisted architecture, but there it was now, gleaming in the distance. But what truly made her pause was the private bathing chamber tucked away in the corner of the room. Pristine, untouched, like a hidden gift.
For a moment, she just stood there, completely at a loss. It all felt like she’d stepped into an alternate reality, one that didn’tmatch the life she knew. The entire day had felt like that, pulling her further from any sense of solid ground.
She couldn’t wrap her mind around it.
Couldn’t find her footing.
After discovering that she and Thane had been research partners—of all things—and that he had tried to kill her as part of a perverse attempt to restore her memories, Elara realized that something that had defined her, shaped her entire life, wasn’t what she thought it was.
They had been close. Studied together, obsessed over the Void, and its potential for transport. But what had sparked that obsession? There was nothing in their notes about how it all began. No clue as to what had brought them together under the same goal.
Had they known about Osin’s experiments with the Sidhe? Had that driven them? Or was it something else entirely? She didn’t have the answers—not yet. And until her memories returned, she never would. But now, she knew something more. Her theory—that with each death, a memory returned—wasn’t just a wild guess. It had been confirmed, backed by what she’d uncovered. And for the first time in so long, it felt good to have that kind of validation, to know she wasn’t losing her mind. She hadn’t imagined it. She wasn’t just grasping at straws. The truth was twisted and terrible, but it was real. Like a piece of the puzzle had finally fallen into place. A small, fragile piece, but still something. It was more than she’d had before.
