“I thought I was saving you both. But instead, I damned us all.”
Elara rubbed her temples. The Hunter blamedhimself. That didn’t align with everything she’d built her perception of him on. She’d always assumed he resented her, that beneath his stoic demeanor was a deep well of hatred directed at her—for what had happened, for what he had lost.
She’d spent so much time believing he heldherresponsible for his pain.
Her thoughts churned, unraveling years of carefully constructed walls and assumptions. Every interaction between them, every heated word, every cold stare—she had thought it all pointed to blame. And now with one sentence, he had undone that entire narrative.
It was almost impossible to reconcile. So many memories, so many conversations that she now had to sift through and dissect with fresh eyes.
Elara wandered further into the room, aimless. The pounding in her head insisted she close her eyes, begged her to rest, but the weight of the day refused to let her. She and the Hunter had spent hours poring over her old research, sifting through dusty notes onThe Sundering—the ritual to break the Binding Sigil. He had sat beside her mostly in silence, only speaking when she asked him a question, offering concise, measured answers. But none of it had clicked. Not in the way she needed it to.
In her mind, the Void had always been just space between spaces—a shortcut, a pathway people once used to travel. But if she had learned something in the capital—if she hadseensomething—it wouldn’t have been hard to take that basic concept and push it further. To take it to a terrifying extreme.
She clutched the stack of scrolls and loose parchment in her arms, the ones she hadn’t had time to sift through earlier. She’d thought maybe she could read until sleep claimed her, but now, standing in the dim light, looking at the bed... No. She couldn’t.
After weeks spent in that cold, grim cell with barely a scrap of cloth to ward off the chill—this felt like too much.Excessive, even though—logically—she knew it wasn’t.
But the others… they still had nothing.
How could she possibly lie down in something so luxurious, knowing that?
With a sigh, Elara crossed to the small desk by the window, setting the papers down with a soft thud. She sank into the chair and began sorting through the notes. Page after page of her own handwriting, lines filled with references to a book she didn't remember reading.The Lattice of Interstellar Theory and Spatial Anomalies.
She scanned her notes, one section catching her eye.
Entanglement theory speaks of particles that, once intertwined, mirror each other’s states, regardless of distance. It challenges our conventional understanding of space, suggesting that separations are nothing more than an illusion, hinting at a deeper, intrinsic connection across the cosmos.
She paused, fingers tapping lightly against the parchment. The concept intrigued her. The idea that what seemed like vast distances could be bridged by something more… that everything might be connected, no matter how far apart. She made a mental note to ask the Hunter if he had the book in his library. It was something she’d love to dig deeper into, to understand what had driven her past self so deep into these theories. But then—her thoughts halted.
A sound outside her door.
Elara stiffened, her eyes darting to the shadow shifting beneath the doorframe. It lingered for a moment, as if the Hunter was hesitating, hovering on the other side. Earlier, when he’d led her to her room, he’d mentioned that his room was just down the hall before walking away without another word. What could he possibly want from her now?
Her pulse quickened in the sudden quiet. The shadow slipped away, leaving only dim hall light seeping beneath the door.
Curiosity drew her up. She cracked the door open—and froze. A tray of food sat neatly on the floor.
Warm, crusty bread. Butter soft enough to spread. Stew, rich with meat and herbs. Cool water, condensation slicking the pitcher. Fresh fruit, neatly arranged.
Her stomach growled—she couldn’t remember the last real meal she’d had. The comfort of it felt wrong after weeks of scraps, and as she knelt to take the tray, guilt surged anew.
She was in a warm room with a soft bed and fresh, hot food. Elara stared down at the food, her stomach twisting, desperate for just one bite.Eat, she told herself.You will need your strength tomorrow, for casting, for the ritual you plan to attempt.Eating was necessary. Sleeping on a bed of pillows, though… that was not.
With a deep breath, she brought the tray over to her desk. The first bite nearly brought her to tears. The warm, salty butter spread across the bread, dipping it into the rich stew—it tasted like something out of a dream. She ate so quickly she knew she’d regret it later, her stomach already groaning at the speed. But it didn’t matter. She needed this.
When the food was gone, Elara dragged a pillow and the stack of notes to the floor by the empty hearth. It wasn’t cold enough for a fire, though she found herself wishing for one—for the familiar comfort of flame before sleep.
She read until her eyes burned and the words began to blur, turning page after page, note after note. She was nearly ready to give up for the night when her gaze caught on something different.
A letter.
Elara,
First, thank you for sending me the book on non-linear temporal mechanics. I’ve already started tearing throughit, and, as always, your recommendations don’t disappoint. There’s a section on temporal distortions that aligns perfectly with what you were theorizing last month. If time isn’t linear, then why should the past be set in stone? What if we could manipulate the flow of time within a confined space, not just observe its effects, but alter them? It opens up a whole new realm of possibilities. I’ve been working on some new equations that I think could complement your idea. We’ll need to test it, of course, but the potential is incredible.
That said, I need to warn you—some of my notes are missing. Entire sections gone, and I can’t figure out how or when it happened. Be careful. It feels like someone’s been sniffing around our research, and I don’t want you getting caught up in it. Burn this letter after you read it, and don’t leave any of your own notes where they can be easily found.
I’m going to try to get another letter to you through Annette, but until then, stay away from court if you can. Something’s off there.
