Back in Verdara, the archives had been her escape. The world outside could crumble, but the moment she’d stepped into that maze of shelves, surrounded by history, knowledge, and the crackle of old pages, she’d felt grounded. Safe. Books had always offered her what life hadn’t—answers, clarity, and a place to belong.
Perhaps that love for books, that need to know more, was a tie to the girl she used to be—the one who had snuck around, risking everything to get her hands on those forbidden texts. She’d always been reckless when it came to knowledge, seeking out answers no matter the cost. Elara’s heart twisted slightly. That insatiable thirst for learning, the willingness to push boundaries for the sake of discovery—it wasstillthere, still very much a part of her. Maybe the girl she thought she'd left behind wasn’t so far off after all.
Elara wandered through the aisles, fingers grazing the spines of books as she read their titles.The Song of the Lost Kings,The Alchemical Mind: Bridging the Gap Between Science and Sorcery, Vibrational Theory in Spell Casting: Harmonics of the Arcane.
It seemed the Hunter had quite the eclectic collection, but as tempting as it was to lose herself in those pages, what she really needed were books on the Sidhe andTírrísh. If she could study the language while she was here, maybe she could ask Reynnar about the stones—how they were used, how he had been taken from his world. Any bit of information could be vital.
She continued walking, pulling a book from the shelf here and there, quickly scanning the pages before moving on. After wandering through the winding rows, she eventually found herself at the back of the library, where the towering windows took up almost the entire back wall. For a moment, Elara stood still, her breath catching as something unusual snagged her attention.
Crystals.
They dangled from the windows, scattered across the glass like stars pinned in a night sky. Each crystal caught the morning light and shattered it into fragments, casting tiny rainbows that danced across the room. Colors splintered and spun, painting the walls, the shelves—even her skin—in soft hues of violet, amber, and emerald.
Runes, sigils, and an assortment of unknown scripts were etched on their surfaces, humming with potent ether. Some symbols she recognized from her studies, but others were unfamiliar—far older than anything she had ever seen or could name.
Each breath seemed to fill her lungs with the energy in the room, fanning the spark of curiosity that was quickly growing into something she couldn’t ignore. Elara found herself stepping closer to the nearest window, where a cluster of quartz crystals dangled.
Her fingers twitched with the urge to examine them, caution flaring too late to matter. The pull was undeniable. As if in a trance, she stepped closer, her hand hovering over the smallest gem, its surface cool beneath her fingertips.
It stirred at her touch—a light, breathy sensation. The quartz hummed softly, energy spiraling from her fingers and up her arm, weightless as captured air, already slipping away even as she held it. But then without warning, the sensation shifted. The gentle breeze that had been whispering against her skin transformed into a gust, a sudden, biting wind that swept through her veins.
Elara gasped as chill stole her breath and her fingers slipped from the quartz. The gem swung wildly on its chain. She froze, bracing for the shatter—but it never came. The crystal halted midair, then drifted gently back into place. A soft chime rang out, echoing through the chamber.
A shiver rushed through her, and the skin of her palm pulsated, revealing the script:Chun ceolghaoth.A chill prickled the nape of her neck, goosebumps forming along her arms. As the foreign words seared and sank into her flesh, her breath caught, only to be released in a shuddering exhale when they vanished without a trace.
Sweat gathered on her forehead.
Did she just take in a blessing or a curse?
“You're early.”
Elara's heart leapt into her throat, her guilty hand instinctively slipping behind her back. The Hunter was leaning casually against the bookshelf with a steaming cup in hand. His damp hair curled slightly at the ends, and he was dressed down in clean, simple trousers, and a loose tunic—an oddly relaxed sight. Not that she knew what she’d expected. It wasn’t as if he’d be wandering around his own home in armor.
How long had he been watching?
A brow arched as he slowly sipped from his cup. The quiet stretched, making her pulse pound louder in her ears. Then his gaze shifted, sliding down to her clothes. He stilled, eyes narrowing. Elara felt a heavy thump in her chest, a throb that was not her own and it made her stomach flip. His gaze flicked back to hers, calm, unreadable.
“Are you ready?”
Her throat tightened, and she wasn’t sure she could swallow past the knot lodged there. Was she ready? Probably not. But she had to try. She nodded, her movements stiff, uncertain, and his eyes softened, just a little—a small shift that shouldn’t have made a difference, but it did.
“You might not see it yet, but you're stronger than you realize, Hallowed.” His voice was low, but there was a fierce intensity in his eyes. “I don’t make bets, but if I did, I’d wager onyou coming out of this without a scratch. It’s in your nature to survive.”
Her heart flipped, and her stomach dipped all at once. It was the kindest thing she’d ever heard from him, and it was directed at her. She didn’t know how to respond. Thankfully, he seemed to take her silence for what it was, tipping his chin toward the door in a silent gesture for her to follow.
When they reached the desk, Tristan was lounging in the chair, feet propped up on the table, flipping through Transcendental Bonds. He barely glanced up as they approached, but the second his eyes landed on her in his clothes, he snapped the book shut with a loud thud.
“Well, don't you look dashing,” he drawled, eyes glinting as they raked over her.
Elara shot Tristan a flat look before she caught a glimpse of something tense in the Hunter’s expression—a flash of annoyance, maybe? It was there and gone so quickly she almost doubted she’d seen it at all.
She made a beeline for the nearest chair, her eyes zeroing in on the tea service surrounded by pastries and neatly buttered toast. Without asking, she grabbed a cup, filled it, and drowned the tea in honey and cream. Politeness was the last thing on her mind today, not with the“significant risk of cognitive, emotional, and even physical destabilization”looming over her. That sort of threat tended to strip away any interest in niceties.
And also,tea.
She took a long, deep sip, the warmth and sweetness washing through her like a balm. She nearly groaned, eyes fluttering shut for a second longer than necessary. When she glanced up, both men were watching with something close to amusement.
“What?”
