Kael’s gaze snaps back to mine, his expression softening. “I’m sorry.”
I nod, swallowing hard. “It was a long time ago, as well.” The words slip out before I can stop them, though I don’t give much away. I can’t. Their names have vanished from the lips of everyone in Virellin—as if they never existed. Ghosts of the past that live on crumpled parchment in my pocket. No. I won’t say more—this is safer.
His hand moves slightly, as if he’s about to reach for mine, my breath hitches, but he stops himself. Instead, he leans closer, his voice quieter now. “That's why I need to find my sister. She’s all I have left.”
His words settle over me like a weight, heavy and raw. For the first time, I see the cracks in the armor he wears so well—the pain, the determination, the desperation that drives him.
“You’ll find her,” I say, and for once, I mean it. “If anyone can, it’s you.”
Kael’s lips press into a thin line, but he nods, the faintest flicker of hope sparking in his eyes. “I have to.”
Silence stretches between us, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s a shared understanding, a fragile connection forged in the quiet of the night.
I lean back against the cot, exhaustion tugging at the edges of my consciousness. “You should sleep. You can’t protect me if you’re dead on your feet.”
Kael smirks faintly, his expression softening. “I’ll rest when you’re strong enough to keep yourself out of trouble.”
I roll my eyes, the faintest smile tugging at my lips. “Bossy.”
“Always,” he replies, and there’s a warmth in his tone that makes my chest ache in a way that has nothing to do with pain.
As my eyes drift closed, I let myself believe, just for a moment, that maybe, just maybe, I can trust him. But the secrets I keep remain locked away, their weight a reminder that trust is a luxury I can’t afford—not yet.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
ELYSSARA
The morning airin Mavyrn’s cottage feels heavy, charged with an energy that prickles against my skin. I rouse to the scent of herbs. Something faintly metallic fills my lungs as I watch Mavyrn work, her long fingers moving with precision as she arranges vials and stones on the worn table. Every now and then, she mutters under her breath, words I can’t catch but that seem to carry weight, nonetheless.
Therion, of course, is pacing. His boots thud softly against the wooden floor, his frustration practically vibrating off him. “Are you sure this thing won’t send us into the side of a mountain?” he grumbles.
Mavyrn doesn’t even glance at him, her sharp gray eyes fixed on the glowing circle she’s been crafting in the center of the room. “If it does, it’ll be because you’re too sour for the Gateway to tolerate.”
Kael snorts quietly from his place against the wall, arms crossed, his lips twitching as though fighting back a smile. “Careful, Therion. She’s known to curse people for less,” he croons.
Therion growls, muttering something I can’t hear, but Mavyrn cuts him off with a wave of her hand. “Oh, hush, you grump. Youact like I’ve never met someone with a guarded heart before. Let it go, or the Gateway might just spit you back out.”
I stifle a laugh and glance at the shimmering circle etched into the floor. I’ve never seen—or heard of—anything like this in my lifetime. This is magic that goes beyond the constellations. This is sorcery of legend—something I’d hear whispered in fever dreams or half-burned books. Threads of light twist and weave through the air above it, glowing faintly with a rainbow hue that shifts as I move closer. The magic pulses softly, the hum low and melodic, like the strings of an unseen instrument. It’s mesmerizing and a little unnerving, as if the threads have a mind of their own.
“What... is it?” I ask, my voice quieter than I intended.
Mavyrn finally looks up, her expression softening just slightly. “This,” she says, gesturing to the circle, “is a Gateway of Threads. A passage spun from the fabric of magic itself. Gateways can take you anywhere, so long as you have a piece of the place with you. This one will take you to the foot of Lyssar Temple—I had a little something in my jars from there. But be warned, it’s not without its risks.”
Her words hang in the air, and I can’t tear my eyes away from the Gateway. The threads seem to shimmer more brightly as I stare, drawing me in. I almost cannot believe that I am looking at the very essence of magic.
“Risks?” Ronyn asks, his tone light, though his eyes are sharp.
“The Gateway is bound to only take you to the temple. It listens to intention. If you think of anywhere else, even for a heartbeat, it’ll spit you out—or worse. The Gateway demands your trust and focus. Think solely of Lyssar Temple, step clearly into its center, and free fall,” Mavyrn explains.
“Great,” Therion mutters, crossing his arms. “A magic doorway with a fucking attitude.”
Mavyrn shoots him a sharp look. “Be glad I can sense the purity of your heart, Therion. I’d have cursed that scowl off your face years ago.”
Ronyn chuckles, and even Kael allows himself a small smile. I can’t help but feel a flicker of warmth toward the older woman.She might be jarring, but there’s an undeniable care in her sharp words.
Then her gaze shifts to Kael, and her expression softens further, though a shadow passes over her face. “And you,” she says, her voice quieter now. “You carry too much. You always have. Be careful, Kael. You can’t have it both ways.”
Kael stiffens, his jaw tightening, but he doesn’t respond. The silence feels heavy, weighted by something unsaid.
