Her eyes widened, but the seer was already pulling away. “Open a rift for me, won’t you, Iv?”
It wasn’t until the door clicked shut behind them that Elara realized she’d stopped breathing.
Chapter 46
Elara’s room smelled of pine and cold earth, the scents carried in through the open balcony doors as winter crept in on the night breeze. The chill brushed her skin, but it no longer bothered her. Weeks in the Pit had taught her body to adapt.
She lay sprawled on the floor as moonlight spilled through half-drawn curtains, illuminating the room in silver. Her gaze flicked to the untouched sleeping draught beside her, the glass vial catching the pale light and casting ripples of reflection across the floor. She hadn’t even considered drinking it. Despite the exhaustion weighing down her limbs, her mind buzzed with too much energy, too many thoughts refusing to quiet.
Instead of sleeping, she’d spent the last hour reaching for that invisible thread between her and the Hunter, tugging at it gently, feeling that faint, familiar pull in response. She could sense him moving through the house—his presence a steady beat she’d grown accustomed to.
A soft creak of floorboards drifted to her ears, followed by wind whispering through the curtains. She inhaled, cool air filling her lungs, her awareness split between the thread and the quiet hum of night.
Then—from the grounds below—she felt him call the wind. The air shifted, trembled, and a rift opened. When he slipped through, the thread dulled, thinning to little more than a faint hum at the back of her mind.
She sighed, curling into herself, knees pulled tight to her chest. Sleep wouldn’t come tonight—she knew that. She didn’t evenwantit. Hours dragged on as her mind kept circling back to what Sybil had said.
“There’s a faster way. A cleaner way.”
The words rang in her mind, over and over, creeping into every quiet space until she couldn’t escape it. What if Sybil was right? What if she’d been wasting her time all week? Who knew how far they could have come by now, the strides they might have taken if she had some of her memories back...
Elara pressed her forehead against her knees, her thoughts drifting to Thane, trapped somewhere in the Void, reaching for her through that endless veil. The image of him there, lost, sending scraps of memories like scattered pieces of a puzzle—it twisted something deep in her gut.
And the Sidhe.
What horrors had they endured this week while she had been away?
But the Hunter would never go along with it. She knew he wouldn’t even consider the idea. The bitterness he carried—the resentment he still felt toward Thane for trying to send her through the veil in the first place, still tainted his voice whenever his brother’s name came up.
So, instead, she had thrown herself into the work, into their research. But the anxiety that had been gnawing at her had only grown. It drove her. Made her restless, made her push harder—too hard, if she was honest. She thought of theparasitestill festering inside her, the one they were trying to understand, the hours spent practicing with theDraoth Cara,pushing herselfbeyond every boundary, past every limit. The obsession that had driven her these past days was beginning to feel familiar. That drive, that compulsion—it was part of her, had always been part of her, lying dormant. But now, with so much on the line, she felt consumed by it.
A faster way.
It was reckless, stupid even, but ithadworked before.
Summoning a spirit.
Offering it whatever it craved until it momentarily took her own soul beyond.
Ever since the Hunter had mentioned theCailleach, the idea had been lodged in her mind, no matter how many times she told herself it was madness. But if they needed answers quickly, wasn’t this the best way to get them? She had called on the spirit of the Cillareen so many times it had practically become second nature. But here, she wasn’t sure if she could do it. This place, this lake—it wasn’t hers. It didn’t know her, didn’t call to her the way her river had.
Still, that itch in her bones wouldn’t stop whispering:just try.
Elara’s pulse quickened, exhaustion fading as something ignited inside her. The Hunter would be livid—she had no doubt about that. After what she’d put him through last time, she had no illusions about his reaction.
Elara pressed her lips together, her mind running through the possibilities. But if this was to help his brother, would he really bethatopposed? She couldn’t be sure. But now—while he was gone, doing whatever it was he disappeared to do every night—now was her chance. If she acted quickly, she might get it done before he even realized, before he had a chance to stop her.
She shoved herself off the floor, snagged a thin blanket, and slipped from her room. The manor lay dark and silent as she crossed it, pushing through the front door into the brisk night.
Fog skimmed the dew-damp grass, curling around her ankles as she headed for the lake. Her breath came in short, uneven bursts—but she refused to dwell on what she was about to do.
Shecouldn’t.
If she gave herself even a moment to think, to second-guess, she’d turn back.
The lake shimmered under the faint light of the moon, its surface still and glassy. Elara lingered at the shore, cold air prickling her bare legs as her heart thundered. She whispered the ancient song, her voice unsteady at first, but the words still held their power—threading through the air, drifting across the water to mingle with the mist above its surface.
Without giving herself time to hesitate, she shrugged off the blanket and stepped forward. The cold bit into her the moment she touched the water, the shock of it jolting through her body. She sucked in a breath, watching it fog in the freezing air, but forced herself to keep moving. One step. Then another. Each one sinking her deeper, the icy water crawling up her legs, her body trembling uncontrollably—but she didn’t stop—kept going until the lake consumed her.
