Her chest constricted; blood dripped from her nose, but she pressed on, each step guided by instinct and calculation. The riftlay close, yet the currents shifted, tugging at her, threatening to throw her off course.
She adjusted, felt theDraoth Carasteady her, and stepped through.
The silence broke. The Void’s oppressive stillness gave way to warmth?—
real warmth.
Her boots hit solid ground with a dull thud, the scent of aged wood and crackling fire curling around her. She blinked, adjusting to the faint glow of the Hunter’s hearth.
Her breaths came fast, fingers twitching at her sides.
She’d done it.
The rush crashed over her, pulse thundering, veins buzzing with something far beyond excitement. Validation. The theory, the practice—all of it had led here. She had commanded the Void, bent it to her will, and emerged exactly where she meant to be.
It was exhilarating. Almost overwhelming.
It didn’t matter that it wasn’t her ether guiding her, that she’d leaned on theDraothCarato navigate. The achievement felt no less hers. When the final sigil was broken—when theparasitewas gone—maybe she wouldn’t need the link at all. The idea burned in the back of her mind, a tiny, defiant flame.
Elara moved silently through the entryway, the familiar pull of the thread guiding her effortlessly down the corridor, a sensation so natural now it brought a flicker of smug satisfaction.
When she pushed open the library door, she wasn’t surprised to find him there, hunched over the desk with one hand tangled in his hair, rubbing his temple. A small part of her wanted to laugh—finally, she had the upper hand.
With a mischievous grin, she gave the thread a playful tug, her mental grip on his heart tightening just enough to senda flicker of sensation through him. He startled upright, nearly leaping from his chair, his wide, flashing eyes darting around the room until they landed on her.
His gaze softened, his mouth falling open as he stared, completely thrown. Her grin only widened, and slowly, as though he couldn’t quite believe it, his lips curved into a smile of his own.
“You did it.”
Elara rolled her eyes, doing her best to sound unimpressed. “Was that ever in doubt?”
He let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head as he stood. “If anyone could figure out how to rift in a day, it’d be you.”
Heat crept up her neck, settling in her cheeks at his compliment, but it wasn’t just that—it was what she needed to say next.
“I met with Calista tonight.”
His smile vanished, wiped clean as if she’d struck him. He froze mid-step, searching her face. “You did?”
Elara hummed, the sound softer than she intended. “She bought me for the night. That’s how I managed to get here.”
He nodded slowly, but she saw it—the walls he always built around himself creeping higher with every measured breath.
“And what did she want with you?”
“I asked Tristan to relay a message for me—to tell her I wanted to speak with her.” Elara watched his brow twitch, a subtle reaction that told her this was news to him. “I had a memory, something I needed confirmation on.”
He folded his arms across his chest, his expression still carefully guarded. “And? Did you get what you were after?”
“I did.”
Silence stretched between them, charged. Tension rolled off him, taut as a drawn wire, and she sensed how close he was to bolting. Elara steadied herself before continuing.
“She told me about us.”
There it was—the lurch in his chest, just as she’d expected. She’d braced herself for it, but somehow, it still struck harder than she could have prepared for.
“Told me how you used to read to me. How we shared books.” Her heart throbbed, a cutting ache. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
