A scream tore from Elara’s throat, ricocheting off the walls.
Fire surged through her veins—searing, all-consuming—obliterating every thought, every sense but one.
Agony.
Heat and light slammed against the barrier, whipping through the circle, energy rebounding wildly as if searching for escape. Elara squeezed her eyes shut, fingers splayed against the ground, bracing. It felt like something was being ripped from her—not imposed from without, but erupting from her core.
Even through the chaos, she felt his strength falter. His ether frayed. A grunt escaped him, and his trembling hands slipped against her thighs. He was losing control—fighting to hold on as something inside her resisted.
The tether snapped.
The impact slammed through her, a violent recoil that shook her to the bone as he tore himself free.
Elara’s eyes fluttered open, the world blurred through tears clinging to her lashes. Her cheeks were wet, hot from sobs that had torn free without her realizing.
Tristan stood beyond the barrier, his ether surging—tendrils of water crashing against it, straining to break through. Inside, though, she and the Hunter were locked within a circle of fire, crackling and fierce, close enough to scorch but never quite touching them. Contained. Controlled. Barely.
Her gaze found the Hunter. His breaths were ragged, loud in the charged air, head bowed, dark strands of hair veiling his face. But his hands—his hands were still on her, fingers pressed into her skin, burning through her like live embers. A shiver tore through her, muscles tensing.
Then he jerked back, as if burned.
For a heartbeat he went still, shoulders rigid. Slowly, he straightened and lifted his head. When his eyes met hers, Elara’s breath caught.
Darkness coiled through his gaze like smoke, pulsing, swallowing the amber at its center. Panic flared—then just as quickly, the darkness slipped away, retreating into the depths and leaving his eyes clear… but haunted.
“Let the ether go,” he rasped, his voice raw.
Elara blinked, the words barely cutting through the haze of fire and power coursing through her. Let it go? She didn’t have access to her own ether—onlyhis.
The realization hit hard. She was drawing from it, shaping the fire around them, and he—he was holding it back, keeping it from devouring them both. "How?" she whispered, as heat surged through her veins, molten fire pulsing with every heartbeat. But it wasn’t just heat. It was power. Unimaginable power. She felt invincible, infinite, untouchable—andso very dangerous.
He reached out, his hand finding the nape of her neck. She didn’t flinch as his fingers threaded into her hair, gripping tightly. His forehead pressed against hers, their breath mingling in the thick heat. “Feel.”
Elara’s eyes slid shut in understanding. She reached not outward, but inward—through the bond, the thread that tethered them together. It blazed between them, coiled tightly, draining them both, entwining them in a way that made her feel as though they were fused into one entity.
Elara inhaled slowly, focusing on the connection, and eased away from it—piece by piece, letting go, retracting her grasp from his ether until she wasn’t feeding from it anymore. Until they were separated as much as two bound souls could ever be.
A sharp breath rushed out of him, warm and unsteady, ghosting across her lips. Then a low, almost bitter laugh rumbled from his chest, hollow in the sudden quiet—so out of place it made her flinch.
“Well,” he said at last, lips curving into a crooked grin that held no warmth, “I don’t know what I was expecting. But it wasn’tthat.”
Chapter 41
The manor’s grand clock tolled from the drawing room, its heavy chimes echoing through the empty halls, marking an hour far too late for Elara’s patience. Fatigue crept up on her as the last scraps of conversation dwindled. Her fingers drummed impatiently against her thigh.
Took them long enough.
She glanced up from the book resting in her lap to find Tristan and the Hunter both sprawled on the settees, fast asleep.Tristan's arm hung over the side, while the Hunter, as ever, seemed perfectly composed, even in sleep, though the strain was etched into the lines of his face.
They’d spent the entire day buried inTranscendental Bonds, eyes red and bleary from hours of scanning endless pages, trying to understand what had gone wrong. By all accounts, the ritual had been flawless. The seals were broken. Every step executed perfectly.
And yet—something else was inside her.
Something dark. Something that had lashed out when the Hunter touched it, when his ether brushed against that hidden place. The memory sent a shiver down her spine, terror creepingback as she remembered the way it had recoiled, striking like a wounded animal.
So they kept searching—through margins and footnotes, half-forgotten sigils, obscure bindings—hunting for whatever detail they’d missed.
After hours of fruitless searching, Tristan had finally thrown his hands up in defeat, reaching for a bottle of spirits instead.“To ease our troubled minds,”he’d said, pouring generous glasses. Elara had taken one, swirling the amber liquid under her nose, but only pretended to sip. She needed a clear head for what she was planning.
