"Sybil."
The girl’s shoulders sagged at his tone, her hands hovering over the kettle. She hesitated for a second, her back to them, before slowly turning around, her face blank.
“Have your souls searched for each other in the dreamspace?” she asked, voice flat.
The Hunter dipped his chin in a slow nod and Elara’s world tilted. The strange dreams—they had been sharing them.
The Hunter wouldn’t meet Elara’s gaze as Sybil’s expression tightened. “Then it’s farther along than I would like if you’re here to sever the connection.”
“Not sever—test it.”
Sybil’s eyes narrowed. “What are you thinking?—”
“Are you both really going to keep talking as if I’m not sitting right here?” Elara cut in, slapping a hand on the table. “And not once has anyone thought to ask if Iwantto be tested—especially after you nearly snapped my wrist not five seconds ago.” She turned her glare on Sybil. “Forgive me if I’m not exactly eager for more ofthat.”
The Hunter’s lip twitched, barely concealing a smirk. “Excuse my cousin. She’s a seer, prone to bouts of insanity.”
Sybil scoffed, but Elara’s attention was on the Hunter. “You brought me to aSoothsayer?” she said, incredulous. The very word sent a cold shiver down her spine, dragging up memories. The Soothsayers in Verdara had been relentless in their attention, drawn to her in ways that felt invasive, even predatory. If anything, they had been the most unsympathetic and detached of all the Druids, their methods bordering on the cruel. The mere thought of them made her teeth grind. She hated them—hated what they saw in her.
A harsh, mocking laugh cut through Elara's thoughts, pulling her attention back to Sybil.
“Please. I’m nothing like the Druids you grew up worshipping.” She leaned in, eyes gleaming. “What I do... let’s just say it’s not exactly lawful. Druids cling to their precious order and balance, but me? I thrive in chaos.”
Elara didn’t flinch, didn’t look away, but she pressed her trembling hands into her lap, out of sight.
“Can you do it?”
Sybil broke eye contact first, turning to the Hunter with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “Of course I can do it.” She bent down, rummaging beneath the table, and pulled out a large mirror, placing it with a heavy thud. Her eyes flicked up, keen and expectant. “I’m going to scry. But I’ll need something from both of you.”
The Hunter slipped off his ring, the four stones catching the dim light as he placed it in the center of the mirror. Elara hesitated. She had nothing—no possessions, nothing of value. Not since being thrown into that prison. All she had left was her blood, and she wasn’t about to offer that. Her mind raced, then landed on something else. She reached up, twisting a single strand of hair around her finger before pulling it free with a sharp snap.
She handed it to Sybil.
“That’ll do.” Sybil said, placing it beside the ring.
The girl hovered over the mirror, her eyes narrowing in deep concentration as she waved a hand above the ring and strand of hair. The surface of the mirror rippled like water disturbed by a single drop, then slowly darkened, as if the glass had swallowed the light in the room.
Elara leaned forward, as the mirror began to shimmer, three faint glowing threads emerging like veins of light, weaving and curling around one another. They stretched between thering and the strand of hair, coiling as if seeking each other out. Elara’s heart thudded in her chest as she watched them, entranced by the way they seemed to move with purpose.
“Do you see it?” Sybil’s voice trembled, her usual snark frayed with something close to fear. Her form flickered, like a candle’s flame caught in a sudden gust—part of her vanishing, only to reappear a heartbeat later. “Your connection—it’s unstable.”
As she spoke, the threads in the mirror trembled violently, no longer smooth and fluid but jagged. The mirror itself shuddered, the glass warping as if it were trying to contain something it wasn’t meant to hold. Sybil’s body flickered again, losing substance, and the room swayed.
Elara gasped as a sharp pull tore at her chest, an invisible force dragging her toward the mirror—like her very soul was being wrenched free and drawn into the dark, vibrating void.
Sybil slammed her hand down on the table with a crack, and the world snapped back into focus. The room stopped spinning, the wild pull vanished, and Sybil’s form stabilized. The mirror fell still, though the twisted, trembling threads remained. Her brow furrowed, her expression shifting, and she let out a quiet “Huh,” as though the storm of moments before had barely grazed her.
Tension coiled tight in the Hunter’s frame. “What?”
Sybil didn’t respond immediately, her fingers tracing the surface of the mirror like she was reading a map. She tapped near three distinct threads, the soft glow reflecting in her eyes. “You see these?” she murmured, her voice unusually quiet, almost reverent. “These are the connections. This one here,” she tapped the strand of hair, “is yours,” her finger shifted to the ring, “and this one belongs to him.” Her eyes flicked briefly to the Hunter. But Sybil’s eyes darkened with something like confusion as she leaned closer, studying the third thread. Herlips twisted into a frown. “This one... this doesn’t belong to either of you.” She tilted her head. “It’s someone else’s. But I can’tseewho.”
Elara’s stomach twisted. She glanced at the Hunter, hoping for answers, but his expression was locked in that stony mask he always wore, his eyes flickering with something she couldn’t name.
Sybil shook her head, her finger still tracing that third thread as if it might reveal more if she pushed hard enough. “I’ve never seen this before."
“Can you sever them?” Elara didn’t want this—this connection, this tether. Not to the Hunter, not toanyone.
The Hunter shifted beside her, his gaze steady on the mirror. Elara knew that if she wanted to, she could search for his heart and would feel it pounding.
