ELYSSARA
The hallsof Elarion Castle breathe like they remember me. Or perhaps, theycall to me.
Each step echoes through high ceilings and history, the sound of my boots a war cry to the future. Because when I finally know the truth, I will wield it as a weapon to remake the realms and carve a new history into their ruins.A better history.
Dust swirls in shafts of morning light, dancing like ash and Starlight—relics of every secret the kingdom ever unburied.
Kael walks behind me in silence, his presence steady but distant—the kind of distance born of restraint, not disinterest. I can feel the weight of what he’s not saying, the parts of his secret he doesn’t understand yet.
The air grows colder as we ascend. Away from the fires, and up to the crisp mountain air that cuts through the library’s arched windows left slightly ajar. Lantern light flickers over endless shelves—ancient tomes, sealed scrolls, codices written in languages older than kingdoms.
“There you are!” Elandor’s hushed voice pierces through my thoughts. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d show.”
My gaze drifts to the horizon, the sun only just beginning her rise. “The dawn is barely upon us. Aren’t we early, if not right ontime?” I ask quizzically, as the older gentleman rushes towards us in a flap of robes and scrolls.
“Oh, you know people—words are but a means to get what they want. Books on the other hand…” he trails off, his eyes darting around in thought. “Well, let’s just say I trust books more than people. Pages never lie; they only reveal what you’re clever enough to read between the lines.”
He spins on his heel in a fluster, but I call out from behind him. “They sound an awful lot like people to me. In any case, one must become skilled at reading between the lines. Right?”
Elandor stops, holding a single finger up as if I’ve just said something profound. “Indeed. Reading is one skill with many applications, wouldn’t you say?” he asks, his face tilting in pointed curiosity.
I bite my lip between my teeth, desperate not to laugh at the peculiar fellow, but Kael snorts softly behind me and I can’t keep it in. I stifle it the best I can and settle on the only two words I can get out: “Yes, sir.”
But Elandor’s already spun around again, heading straight for his chamber, patting the top of his head to find the spectacles that dangle from the pocket of his robes.
I pass through the doorway, and Elandor heaves the heavy oak door closed behind us and bolts it. The rasping creak of the lock unnerves me, taking me back to the creaking cells of Kryntar Castle.
You’re safe. Kael’s words ripple down the tether in support, his eyes observant.
I suck in a grounding inhale, and allow my eyes to adjust to the dark chamber lit only by soft candlelight.
The air inside the chamber feels different somehow. Heavier. Loaded. Pregnant with secrets and revelations that Lady Sylvaine believes will change the fates.One in particular for me.
Teddy, Seren, Jax, Ronyn, Rubi and godsdamned Mavyrn stare back at me. Their faces still and apprehensive.They feel it, too.
And there, at the heart of the chamber, rests the book Thalmyr needs out of our hands: the Lunar Codex.
I don’t touch it yet. I just stand there, watching it flare in rhythmic pulses.
Whatever lives within this Codex has the potential to shift the tide of war.
We fucking need it to.
“Well, it’s about time you two showed up. I can’t eat the dawn meal until we’re done here, so let’s get a move on,” Ronyn quips, winking at me with a grin that’s all cheek and bait.
“Such altruism, Ronie. Your belly is obviously the most important thing here,” I retort.
“Oi! I ate fuckin’ scraps for years, so you’ll forgive a man for wanting to indulge in pastries before going to war in a decaying kingdom,” he bites back, and I have to admit, he has a point. “I gave up other indulgences last night, if you’ll remember,” he murmurs, though his glare is pointed.
“If I’m choosing between pastries and world-altering secrets,” Rubi drawls, “I’m choosing pastries.”
Ronyn nods victoriously, his smug grin spreading across the width of his face.
“The Codex!” Elandor announces, cutting off the conversation, his wiry gray hair poking up at odd angles giving him an unhinged image.
But the room stills in a heartbeat.
Not a whisper of parchment. Not a breath. Only the occasional crackle of a candle guttering.
