“Eilíara.”
She blinked, her gaze snapping up to meet Aoife’s piercing stare. “Let’s go.”
Elara forced her feet to move, falling into stride beside her. Each step felt heavy, the metallic scent of blood clinging thick in her lungs.
“They were monsters,” Aoife said, her gaze unwavering. “They do not deserve your gentle heart.”
“I know.” Elara swallowed and nodded, though her voice wavered. She told herself she did—she had to. But the truth felt tangled inside her, and she couldn’t stop shaking.
They moved in sync, their quick, quiet footsteps reverberating off the stone walls as they slipped down the narrow passage. The air grew colder until they reached a dim, hauntingly familiar lab. Shadows flickered across the stone, illuminated by the weak, dying light of a fire barely clinging to life.
“Rey!” Aoife’s voice broke as she rushed to the figure slumped against the wall, his wrists shackled.
Elara’s gaze locked onto him, catching the faint, uneven rise and fall of his chest, his skin deathly pale against the tangled raven-black hair matted to his face.
Her chest tightened, a sob rising in her throat, but she swallowed it down and sprinted forward, dropped to her knees beside him, and struck the shackles with her dagger in a swift, fierce slash. They fell away, and she grabbed him before he collapsed.
He’s alive. He’s alive. He’s alive.
A choked gasp escaped her as she clung to him, her fingers digging into his back, feeling the solid warmth of him. Aoife stood nearby, watching, unmoving, as Reynnar’s arms slowly wrapped around her.
“You gave up,” she managed through the broken words, though anger bled into her voice. She didn’t even know why—why she felt this tangled knot of relief, fury, and heartbreak all at once, an overwhelming, impossible storm inside her.
He pulled back slightly, his gaze unfocused, weary eyes flickering over her face.His eyes. That deep amber, so achingly beautiful. Looking into them felt like staring at a truth she’d missed, a puzzle she should have solved long ago. A surge of rage and devastation twisted within her, each emotion crashing into the next.
How had she not seen it? How could she have been so blind?
"Eilíara."
She watched the fog in his eyes retreat, clearing inch by inch. A single tear slipped down her cheek as she nodded, her trembling fingers brushing her face in their age-old code—a gesture etched into her very soul.
Reynnar's lip twitched upward. "There she is."
The sound of his voice—deep and teasing—broke something in Elara, a pang that rippled through her heart.
“Rey,” Aoife’s voice cut in, urgent. “Can you stand?”
He nodded, his jaw tight, and Elara slipped an arm around his waist. His legs shook with each shift of weight, a grimace carving into his features. Aoife stepped closer, her slender fingers grabbing Reynnar’s chin to tilt his face toward her. RapidTírríshspilled from her lips, too quick for Elara to follow. He grunted, giving a curt nod, and then they were moving, breaking into a staggered run.
The air grew colder, stinging Elara’s cheeks as they raced down the narrow, twisting passage. The shouting reached her first—faint echoes down the stone corridor—then grew louder. Voices.Sidhevoices. Clanging against the bars with a fevered pulse.
Then, as they rounded the corner, she froze, her breath stolen.
Hundreds of them. Freed from their cells, spilling into the corridor.How?—?
It clicked. The rings she and Aoife had destroyed—the three wisps ofDraothreturned to their rightful owners. Two fire, one air. She could almost feel their power coursing through the stone, shattering wards, breaking locks, clearing paths. They had reclaimed their strength, using it to tear down their cages and free their people.
Tears stung her eyes as she moved with them, her blade flashing as it cut through ward after ward. She moved from cell to cell without pause, her breaths ragged, the weight of the Wound of Light growing heavier with every swing.
Somewhere down the corridor, Reynnar’s voice rang out, barking orders, corralling them toward the sixth tunnel, toward theAelfhenge.
Dozens of Sidhe poured from the cells, a rushing tide darting through the darkened passageways, their footsteps pounding a thunderous tempo against the stone. Elara pressed forward, working alongside the three Sidhe, moving in near-perfect tandem as they wrenched open cell after cell. Finally, the last lock shattered, and the heavy metal door swung open with a groan.
Her chest heaved and her limbs trembled with exhaustion as the last of the Sidhe fled into the corridor. But Elara didn’t stop. She turned, forcing herself to keep pace with the others, Reynnar and Aoife close behind. Her legs burned but the stream of bodies pushing forward, the rush of movement, kept her going. As they neared the last stretch of the tunnel, distant shouts filtered in, growing clearer with each step. Elara cursed under her breath.
Reynnar drew up beside her, his breath uneven. “How many?”
“Too many,” she muttered, glancing at him. A vein throbbed in his temple, his expression strained, and she could see the way he pushed through, barely concealing the pain radiating from his injured leg.
