Just then, the door swung open, and Thorn strode into the room, two guards flanking him. He surveyed the scene with a casual air. His eyes flicked between Elora and the Al’teran. “I’m surprised he didn’t hurt you.”
The Al’teran’s golden eyes snapped to Thorn, and before anyone could react, he shifted, his body contorting in a split second into the form of the massive nightglider. With a powerful leap, he launched himself at Thorn, his jaws wide, fangs gleaming as he aimed for Thorn’s throat.
Elora gasped, her mind instinctively hoping that he would make contact, save her from this nightmare they were both in. But before the Al’teran could reach him, one guard standing near the mechanism that controlled his chains yanked the lever. The chains jerked violently, tightening in an instant, pulling the animal back mid-leap. His claws slashed the air, a foot from Thorn’s neck.
The chains tightened further, dragging the Al’teran closer to the wall, forcing him to the ground as his muscles strained against the bonds. His growlsechoed through the chamber as he struggled, but the guards slowly returned him to where he had been strung up. Elora watched in horror as the nightglider shifted back into human form, his face twisted with rage, his chest heaving as he spat angry sentences at Thorn in his native tongue.
But Thorn didn’t so much as flinch. He acted as though a deadly mystical beast hadn’t just tried to tear his throat out. His calm, superior demeanor remained completely intact as he ignored the Al’teran’s furious words, not even sparing him a glance.
Instead, Thorn turned his attention back to Elora. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I’ll have to cut this session short.” He spoke as if she’d been enjoying herself, as though she actually wanted to be here and become this beast.
Before Elora spoke—before she processed the sheer madness of what just happened—Thorn placed his hand on her shoulder. In an instant, a jolt of electricity surged through her, lighting her nerves on fire.
Elora screamed, the pain ripping through her body with a force that made her vision blur. She could feel the magic being stripped away, her fangs retracting painfully into her gums, her claws shortening back into her fingernails. The sharpness of her vision dulled, the world around her returning to the muted blur of normalcy.
Through her haze of agony, she saw the Al’teran straining against his chains, his eyes burning with desperation as he tried to get to her.
Finally, Thorn stopped the current, and the pain ebbed away, leaving Elora trembling and gasping for breath. Her body seemed fragile, as though it had been broken and then pieced back together.
She blinked through the haze of exhaustion and realized that her body was once again her own. The claws were gone. The fangs weregone. She wasnormalagain, or as close to normal as she could be after everything that had just happened.
Thorn’s hand slipped off her shoulder as he turned away, his interest in Elora already waning. He motioned to the guard, his impatience clear. “Take thisthingaway,” he ordered dismissively. He was done with her, for now.
The guard stepped forward, grabbing Elora roughly by the arm. The sudden jerk sent a fresh wave of pain shooting through her already weakened body. She stumbled, her legs shaky from the transformation and the shocks of electricity that had ravaged her moments ago. The guard didn’t care. He tightened his grip, dragging her toward the door without so much as a second glance.
As the guards dragged her out of the chamber, her gaze flicked back over her shoulder. Through the blur of exhaustion and pain, she found the Al’teran’s golden eyes locked on hers.
For a moment, the world seemed to stop. His eyes—those bright, glowing embers—met hers, and in them, she saw the same despair, the same hollow resignation that had taken root in her soul since the moment she became Thorn’s possession. His anger from earlier had drained away, leaving behind only a deep, unspoken helplessness.
Chapter 35
Elora
Elora kept her eyes downcast, focusing intently on the pages of her book, hoping it would be enough to keep the others from noticing her. Her fangs and claws might be gone, her pupils returned to normal, but the faint golden ring around her irises remained, a silent marker of the magic that now simmered within her bones. She wasn’t ready to answer questions about the subtle changes in her appearance; she barely understood them herself.
The common room buzzed with conversation, the wards drifting in and out, exchanging gossip and reliving petty dramas. Elora had learned quickly that the wards relished any disruption to the routine of the Institute, whether it was a minor act of defiance, a budding romance among students, or a rare scandal between professors. The discovery that her relationship with Tehvan had been a popular subject of speculation for years, an enigma everyone seemed eager to dissect, shocked her.
“Hey!” Amara’s cheerful voice cut through her thoughts, pulling her abruptly back to the present. She looked up to find her friend dropping into the chair across from her. Amara, it seemed, had no reservations about interrupting her.
Elora gave her a small, forced smile, bracing herself. As much as she craved solitude, she’d come to appreciate Amara’s presence, her persistence, her warmth. There was a familiarity about it that reminded her of Arria, a painful yet comforting echo of the friendship she once had. She tried not to dwell on it, though; Amara was her own person, and holding on to what she’d lost would only make things harder.
“Guess what happened today?” Amara asked, barely containing her excitement, as if she’d been waiting all day to share this latest piece of gossip.
Elora closed her book with a resigned smile, feigning interest as she nodded for her to continue.
Amara was just launching into the latest bit of gossip when she paused, her expression shifting as her gaze lingered on Elora’s eyes. She leaned in, brow furrowing with curiosity.
Elora immediately looked down. “What are you doing?”
“Your eyes,” Amara said, her own eyes widening in a way that reminded Elora of Rian’s large doe-like stare. “They look… different.”
Elora shrugged. “It’s nothing,” she muttered, hoping that would be enough to end it. She refused to let Amara know what Thorn had done to her. She didn’t know what he’d do to her or Amara if she told anyone. “Probably just the lighting.”
Amara studied her for a moment longer, reluctant to let it go, but finally she leaned back, conceding. “Fine,” she murmured, although her eyes lingered on Elora with a faint trace of worry.
As if remembering something, Amara perked up. “Oh! Professor Sadia wanted me to give you this,” she whispered, glancing around as she slipped a small, folded note from the inside of her dress.
Elora looked up at that, intrigued. She took the note and quickly unfolded it, scanning the delicate, looping handwriting. It was a Sylvanist prayer.
