The Greenheart picked up a tub of salve and began rubbing it into Elara’s cut. “Wounds tampered with by ethereal means?—”
“I know,” Elara interrupted, her voice flat. “They take time to heal and always scar.”
The Druid paused, then dipped her chin in acknowledgment. “Of course you do. My apologies.”
Elara winced as the woman worked the salve in, biting back a hiss. She fixed her attention anywhere else, her gaze lifting to the Greenheart’s face.
She looked to be in her late thirties, faint threads of gray slipping from beneath her hood. Exhaustion lined her eyes, yet there was an enduring grace to her features, a quiet beauty worn thin but not erased. Her eyes caught Elara’s attention most—deep, rich brown, steady despite the fatigue.
Elara’s gaze drifted to the woman’s totem. A familiar tree wrapped in a scroll. Aewora.
A southerner.
“What’s your name?”
The healer had thrown her earlier, those cryptic words still echoing in her mind.
What hides in shadow does not remain so forever.
A hint, clearly. But at what?
The woman paused, fingers stilling at Elara’s wrist, her mouth pressing into a thin line as she looked up. “Saria,” she said at last.
A sharp knock broke their gaze. Saria set the salve aside and went to the door. The moment her back turned, Elara’s trembling fingers darted out, snatching the jar and slipping it into her underthings at her hip
Sweat formed on Elara's palms. The odds of her having access to a healer again were slim, and in a place like this, any advantage, no matter how small, could make all the difference. Better to be prepared, just in case.
Saria cracked the door, murmuring, “Two minutes. That’s all I can give you.”
Elara’s stomach tightened as she looked up. Avis stood in the doorway, expression composed as she nodded to Saria. But her eyes were fixed on Elara, pinning her in place.
Saria slipped out, the door closing with a soft click that rang too loud in the sudden quiet.
As Avis stepped closer, a faint trace of oíche blossoms reached Elara—delicate, sweet, painfully familiar. The scent struck deep, stirring a pang she wasn’t ready to face. Her throat tightened. It was the smell of safety once. Of softness.
“El—”
“Don’t,” Elara snapped, shoving herself off the slab. Her heart thundered, but she kept her gaze cold. “I don’t want your excuses. I know about Dario.” The name scorched her throat. “Who is the third?”
“Edgar,” Avis said, not missing a beat. She edged closer, eyes softening, brows knitting in a silent plea. “I won’t pretend I will mourn him, but you have to see—we didn’t have a choice.” Her voice stayed gentle, as if that might blunt the impact, make the knife in Elara’s back twist a little less.
Elara shut her eyes, but the memory struck anyway—Edgar’s neck snapping, sudden and final. Her eyes flew open, nausea rolling through her. “I don’t want to hear it,” she said, reaching for anger and finding only exhaustion. “I’m done playing this game.”
Avis shook her head. "If only it were that simple. The game doesn't end until youstartplaying it."
"What the hell does that even mean?"
"It means that pretending you’re not involved won’t save you. It means the rules were set long before you had a choice."
Elara wanted to scream, to rip the room apart, to let the fury inside her explode and consume everything in its path. But all she could do was stand there, seething. Avis's words were meaningless. More crypticbullshit. She bit the inside of her cheek, tasting blood, her fists clenched so tightly her nails dug into her palms.
Avis stepped forward cautiously. “I did what I had to. Dario did too. Edgar forced us to place the seal on you. It was before we knew you—before we understood what it would mean. Edgar... he couldn’t handle you anymore. He was getting older, and you, Elara, were getting stronger. Too strong for him to control.”
“So you helped him cage me?” Elara’s voice was ice, sharp enough to cut. “Every time you were near me, touched me…” The ghost of Dario’s kiss pressed against her lips, the sensation lingering as if it had just happened. The pressure of his hands, the way he’d cupped her face with such tenderness.
“We did it to protect you,” Avis said. “Edgar assured us that by tempering whatever power lies within you, we were safeguarding you from a greater danger.” She paused, her hands tightening into fists at her sides. “We never sought to cause you pain.”
Elara’s chest tightened. Every memory, every touch, every word from them felt tainted now, twisted and poisoned. Theache inside her was unbearable, a raw, burning throb that made it feel like her ribs might crack under the pressure. She ground her teeth, forcing the words past the fury choking her. “Where is Dario?”
