But the winter solstice was creeping closer with every breath—and with it, her plans with Calista. Elara hadn’t breathed a word of them to Ivan or Tristan. From the way they spoke, Calista hadn’t either. Keeping them in the dark was a gamble, but she couldn’t risk even a single misstep.
Alone in her cell, she had nothing but time—time to run the plan over and over, dissecting every detail, accounting for every possible failure. She’d calculated the margins so precisely she could recite them in her sleep. It would work. It had to.
She would free the Sidhe. Save Thane. Kill Osin. Fulfill every promise, every vow. Help as many as she could.
But then… what about her?
The thought crept in uninvited. She hadn’t let herself think about it before—hadn’t dared. It was almost laughable. Here she was, plotting the liberation of an entire people, orchestrating the downfall of a regime, and yet she couldn’t even begin to picture her own life beyond it.
What did freedom even mean for her? What came after the dust settled?
The thought refused to leave, clinging stubbornly. She hadn’t planned for herself, hadn’t even considered where she fit into the future she was fighting so hard to create. And she wasn’t ready to ask herself why.
Chapter 54
The morning of the winter solstice began like any other, the faint rustle of movement tugging Elara from sleep. Her eyes fluttered open, and through the haze of drowsiness she spotted Reynnar on the other side of the bars. He was already awake, his broad back caught in a thin spill of light filtering into the Pit.
He stretched, arms lifting overhead, muscle shifting beneath his skin. His dark hair hung loose, brushing his shoulders as he rolled them. A soft crack broke the quiet when he tilted his head, then he sank into a deeper stretch.
By now, it had become almost comical—watching him repeat the same ritual each morning. It reminded her of the elder Druids at the Sanct, rising with the sun, bodies weaving beneath the early light as they coaxed warmth back into stiff limbs.
But Reynnar’s routine was nothing like that. There was nothing gentle or meditative about it—it was calculated, every movement controlled, like he was gearing up for combat.
His stretches flowed into motion, seamless as he dropped into push-ups, then planks, muscle rippling with the effort. Most mornings he made her join him, insisting she keep her body active. It had irritated her at first—the idea of exercising whiletrapped in a cell—but soon enough she’d begun to enjoy it. To crave the movement.
Since she’d been spending her nights at Ivan’s, Reynnar no longer dragged her up with him. Still, she woke just to watch.
It was hard not to.
There was strength in the way he carried himself, a grace that masked the power in every motion. He was beautiful in a way that made him impossible not to notice, no matter how hard she tried.
Elara squeezed her eyes shut and curled tighter on her cot, trying to push past the ache in her body and the fog of exhaustion weighing her down. Her limbs felt heavy, her thoughts slow, as though she were moving through molasses. She’d barely managed an hour of sleep—if that.
The night had stretched on with her, Ivan, and Tristan working until they were bleary-eyed and swaying on their feet. But they’d done it—they’d finally perfected the indicator and reactor spells. It had taken every ounce of their energy, and just when she thought they might collapse from sheer exhaustion, they’d cracked the final piece.
The rush of relief had been like a jolt of lightning, energy surging through them just long enough to test the spells—a brief dive into the Void. To know they worked.
She had been the one to say it, her voice hoarse from lack of sleep. “Tonight,” she’d told them, “after the solstice, we’ll search for Thane.” She’d said it with conviction, and she’d meant it. They were so close now.
Get the blade. Kill Osin. Free the Sidhe.
And then find Thane.
Elara willed her heart to slow, forcing herself to take steady, measured breaths in a futile attempt to coax her body back to sleep. She needed those extra hours. Slowly, her muscles beganto relax, her body sinking back into the stiff cot, her mind drifting somewhere between the haze of dreams and reality.
But then, a sound cut through the quiet.
Footsteps.
Heavy boots on stone, closing fast.
Elara was awake and moving in the same instant, tension snapping through her as the noise surged down the tunnel.Hertunnel.
Across the cell, Reynnar spoke in low, urgent tones to the Sidhe nearby. Elara edged closer, trying to catch his words over the advancing march—Legionnaires, pouring in like a flood.
“What’s happening?” Elara shouted over the clatter. No one looked at her—eyes fixed ahead, faces empty.
Cold crept over her skin, tight across her chest, crawling up her spine. Then the soldiers split off, groups of five peeling toward each cell. Locks snapped open. The Sidhe were dragged out.
