Finally, her fingers brushed over something familiar. His latest findings and notes, along with the most important documents: The final recipe forVitalis Essence. She scanned the neatly written notes, the details of the process Thorn carelessly showed her now in her hands. She had no time to fully understand it, but this was it, everything he had worked for. Everything he had used her for. She shoved the papers into her pocket, crumpling them as she hastily tucked them away.
Elora was about to make her escape, but just as she took a step toward freedom, her mind flashed with images of the Al’teran man, the glow of his golden eyes, the way he had looked at her with understanding and sorrow, the rage he had shown when Thorn had tortured her. He wasn’t much different from her. Trapped, helpless, subjected to endless experiments. If she left him here, he would likely die.
I have to do something.
It wasn’t part of the plan, and she knew it was a risk. The Al’teran might turn on her the moment he was free. But she couldn’t just leave him here to suffer. Not after what she had seen in his eyes. He was like her, twisted by Thorn’s cruel hands and used as nothing more than a tool.
She crouched down beside Thorn’s unconscious body, her hands trembling slightly as she reached into his coat. Her fingers brushed against the cold metal of a key, and she quickly pulled it out.This has to be it. She paused, her eyes flicking to Thorn’s hand, where the shimmering enchanted ring still rested.
I might as well take it too, she thought, though the weight of it sat heavily on her conscience.
With a small sigh of resolve, she carefully slid the ring off Thorn’s finger. She tucked it into her pocket, pushing away the gnawing guilt. She had no reason to feel wrong about this. After everything he’d done to her, to the Al’teran, to Symond, and everyone else, he deserved nothing but suffering.
Even so, the act of stealing from him, even after everything he had done, made her feel... conflicted.
Elora shook the thought from her mind. Now wasn’t the time to second-guess her choices. She had a chance to help someone who wasjust as much a victim of Thorn as she was, and she would not let that opportunity slip away.
Chapter 38
Elora
Elora ran to the other chamber, her fingers struggling to grasp the key with her long claws. The door swung open, and she froze. A large, winged cat was curled up against the wall, its golden eyes half-closed in sleep. The sound of the door creaking made the nightglider stir, and in an instant, it was awake and lunging toward her, teeth bared and claws extended.
She stumbled back, her heart leaping into her throat, but to her surprise, she instinctively raised her claws into a defensive stance. But the winged cat stopped just short of reaching her. It stared at her, recognizing her. Slowly, the rigidity in its posture faded, and the nightglider’s form rippled, shifting back into the man she had met before.
Elora swallowed hard, forcing herself to steady her voice. “There isn’t much time,” she said, cautiously stepping forward. Her hands trembled, but she held her ground. “I’m going to unlock your chains so you can escape... but you have to promise you won’t hurt me or anyone else at the Institute. Not everyone here is a monster like Thorn.”
The Al’teran’s gaze softened, and he gave a small nod. Elora sensed his acceptance, though the distrust in his eyes lingered. It was clear he wasn’t used to trusting anyone.
With slow, cautious movements, she reached out her hand, inviting him to bring the cuffs closer. He hesitated, his sharp eyes watching her every move, but then he shifted his arms forward, allowing her to unlock the restraints.
With a quietclick, the chains fell away, and he stood fully free for the first time in who knows how long. He looked down at her, his golden eyes intense but not unkind. Then, in a gesture that startled her, he cupped her cheek with one large, rough hand, his touch warm against her skin.
“Thank you,” he whispered, his deep voice laced with a thick accent, the words coming out as if they were unfamiliar to him. His thumb gently brushed her cheek, the sincerity of his gratitude visible in his gaze.
He removed his hand from her cheek and placed it firmly against his chest, his fingers spread wide. His voice was a low rumble as he spoke in his native tongue, the word foreign but filled with meaning.
“Viliam,” he said.
She didn’t understand, not the language itself, but the gesture—the way his hand lay over his hearts—made it clear.
That must be his name.
Elora nodded, a faint, cautious smile touching her lips. “Viliam,” she repeated softly, testing the unfamiliar name on her tongue. It was strange but comforting to have something to call him, something other than “the Al’teran” she had known him as.
Tentatively, she mimicked his gesture and gave her name in return. “Elora.”
He gave her a small nod, acknowledging the connection between them. He cupped her face again, his touch gentler this time. “Thank you, Elora,” he repeated, her name rough on his tongue but spoken with quiet reverence.
As soon as the words left Viliam’s lips, he stepped back from her. In an instant, his body contorted and shifted, morphing into the sleek, panther-like form of a nightglider. Large, feathery wings spread from his sides, their dark plumage catching the dim light for just a moment before he bolted for the door. Despite his size, his paws made barely any sound as they hit the ground, his powerful form moving with an almost unnatural grace.
Elora blinked, momentarily stunned by the suddenness of his transformation. She ran after him, but as she entered the hallway, Viliam seemed to vanish into the shadows, his inky-black form blending seamlessly with the darkness. She caught brief glimpses of him only when he passed through the pools of light cast by the wall sconces, his wings briefly illuminated before disappearing again.
She hadn’t expected him to leave her so quickly, to vanish without so much as a backward glance. She had freed him, given him his chance to escape, and in return, he had bolted into the night like a ghost. He hadn’t waited for her, hadn’t even considered helping her with their mutual escape.
So much for gratitude, Elora thought bitterly. She shook her head. She didn’t know how long he had been a prisoner here, how many weeks, months, or years of torment Thorn had subjected him to. His desperation might have overridden any sense of obligation to her.
She tiptoed down the corridor, her footsteps careful, her heart still pounding. As she passed the lab, she hesitated, peeking insidebriefly. Thorn and the guards lay motionless on the ground, unconscious.
