Sybil waved her hand, and the glowing threads vanished, dissolving into nothing. “It can be done,” she said, her voice thoughtful. “Normally, if two casters are linked like this, they can destroy their rings—break the connection—and start the Convergence all over again. A tedious process, yes, but for those who refuse theDraoth Cara, it’s worth it.”
Elara’s fingers twitched involuntarilyas Sybil’s gaze darkened, her lips pressing into a tight, grim line. “But you…” she shook her head. “For starters, you’re not linked to any element at all. And him…” She glanced toward the Hunter, her eyes filled with something close to pity. “He’s bound to four.”
The Hunter’s gaze finally broke from the mirror, his jaw flexing as he looked at Sybil. “And what does that mean for us?”
Sybil’s gaze didn’t waver. “YourDraoth Cara—whatever it is—doesn’t follow the same rules. It’s something else entirely.”
Elara bit her lip, then quickly let it go, a fleeting idea creeping in—could the Hunter feel that, too? She shoved it aside and straightened.
“So break the ring. All four stones. That solves it, doesn’t it?”
Sybil raised an eyebrow, her eyes gleaming with something between amusement and pity. “Sure,” she said slowly. “But nothing’s ever that simple. Breaking a bond with an element isn’t clean. It’s bloody, painful work.”
“You said it’s done all the time.”
“I said itcanbe done,” Sybil corrected, her voice cool. “Doesn’t mean it’s common. When it is attempted, it’s agony. Could kill weaker casters. But yes, in theory, it’s possible.” Her gaze turned harder, more pointed. “But our Hunter here? He might not survive it.”
The Hunter stood abruptly, the force of it jarring Elara from her thoughts.
“I can’t break the bond with the stones,” he ground out, voice low and taut, fists flexing as though fighting to stay in control. “They weren’t chosen at random. The Lord Sovereign picked each one. If I destroy even one, he’ll know. He’ll feel it.”
Elara felt a cold weight settle in her chest. “Then whatcanwe do?”
Sybil sighed, crossing her arms as she leaned against the hearth. “There are rituals,” she said, her tone cool. “Old ones. They can lessen the symptoms, soften the link. But nothing will sever theDraoth Caraentirely. Not without risk.”
“What about my bind?” Elara asked, not caring that the Hunter stood right beside her. “If I break it, could that change things?”
Sybil raised an eyebrow, her tone almost bored. “If you manage to break the bind, you’d be stronger, sure. And maybe—maybe—you could force the link into a dormant state. It wouldn’t sever it, but it could weaken the hold.”
For a heartbeat, hope flickered inside Elara. But Sybil’s sharp laugh cut through it, snuffing it out as quickly as it had come. Elara’s her gaze shifted between Sybil and the Hunter. “What?”
Sybil’s eyes gleamed, almost pitying. “Only the Lord Sovereign knows how to break that bind. It’s aTírríshspell—ancient, forbidden, and wiped from every record. Unless you plan on charming him into handing it over, there’s nothing you can do.”
A cold sweat prickled at the back of her neck as Sybil’s words sunk in. It was as if a stone had lodged itself beneath her ribs, sinking deeper with each breath, the air growing thick and stifling. The flicker of hope she’d held onto slipped through her fingers, leaving behind the hollow ache of dread that crawled into the spaces it left behind.
She swallowed, trying to push back the growing sense of helplessness. But then, like a thread being pulled free, a thought unraveled in her mind. The spell....
The Hunter had the spell.
She’d seen Osin give it to him, watched the exchange herself.
The tension thickened, almost tangible, tightening around her lungs as her gaze found him.
He was already looking at her.
For a moment, everything else fell away—the room, Sybil, the stakes—until only the two of them remained, caught in a silent exchange. A muscle jumped in his cheek, something dark flickering across his face, but he didn’t look away. He didn’t need to. The truth was already there.
Elara felt the corner of her mouth twitch as her fingers rose to the necklace at her throat, curling around it. She didn’t need words to know what lay beneath his silence. He had the answers she wanted—and she would draw them out of him, one way or another.
Chapter 33
Elara had to force down the last two vials of Stonebrew just to make it to Mordenhall on her feet. The journey back had been unsettlingly quiet. But beneath the silence, under the layers of early morning thick with sleep and the hush that followed too many drinks, there was a hum, an odd, steady pull. The streets were nearly empty now—most who had been out drinking had stumbled back to wherever they belonged. Even the troublemakers had tucked themselves away. Only a few stray Legionnaires remained, forcing Elara and the Hunter to veer off course every now and then.
But that wasn’t what lingered in her mind. It was him. The restraint in his stride, the way he walked beside her stiff and unreadable, as if something had been folded inward and locked away. Whatever he wasn’t saying worked at her nerves despite the peace of the empty streets.
The sky was blushing with the first hues of dawn, pale ribbons of light chasing away the stars. The chill in the air cut to the bone, but deeper still, something warmer, and far more unsettling twisted in her gut.
Pity.
