Page 66

The Hourglass Turns

T he firelight in Cordelia’s hidden chamber cast long shadows across the stone walls, flickering softly against the worn tapestries and ancient sigils carved into the floor. The room still smelled of dust and old ink, the air thick with the weight of secrets that had waited centuries to be found.

The warmth of the ballroom was a distant memory now. The music. The candlelight. The facade of safety.

Here, there were no illusions. Only truths waiting to be unearthed.

We had gathered in silence, still dressed in the remnants of celebration—lace, velvet, trailing ribbons and undone hair.

The remnants of joy clung to us like ash.

It almost felt wrong, standing in Cordelia’s chamber wrapped in the silk of the ball, but none of us had wanted to waste time. Not after what I’d seen.

Bethany sat perched on the edge of a low stone bench, still in her forest green gown, her expression uncharacteristically serious.

Lydia stood beside her, arms folded, eyes sharp with focus.

Samael leaned against the far wall with his arms crossed, the firelight catching the faint shimmer of his tattoos.

And Leander—Leander hadn’t moved from the entry.

He lingered just past Cordelia’s portrait, one hand braced against the stone arch, watching Samael like he expected him to draw a blade at any moment.

“You’re telling me we’re trusting him now?” Leander’s voice was low, but firm. His sharp blue eyes cut toward me. “After all the games? The secrets?”

Samael didn’t flinch. “You’re welcome to leave if that makes you feel safer.”

Leander’s hand twitched at his side. “Oh, don’t tempt me.”

“Enough,” I said, the word harsher than I intended. The chamber fell still. “We don’t have time for pissing contests. If Samael wanted to sabotage me, he’s had plenty of chances to do it. He didn’t.”

Leander didn’t look away, but he gave a sharp nod and stepped further into the chamber. Tension still clung to him like a second skin, but for now, he was silent.

I turned back to the group, heart thudding.

“There’s another portal,” I announced. “Like the one that led here.”

Bethany straightened, her brows knitting. “Where?”

“In the hallway,” I explained. Bethany’s eyes grew wide at the news.

“Do you remember the hidden passage I told you about? It’s how we discovered Cordelia’s chamber.

I wasn’t imagining it. It showed up for me that day on my way to Divination class, but when Sam said something, the passage vanished. ”

Lydia tilted her head slightly. “A silencing ward?”

“Exactly. As soon as there is noise, it disappears. The enchantment is tied to silence. Tonight, it reappeared—just for a moment.”

Samael’s jaw flexed slightly, but he said nothing.

Leander huffed. “So, we’re chasing invisible doorways now. That’s the plan?”

Bethany gave him a look. “We’re chasing portals to relics, Leander. If Elvana is right—and she usually is—we’re one step closer to what Cordelia wanted us to find.”

“The same kind that led us to Cordelia’s chamber. This isn’t guesswork—it’s real.”

Leander didn’t budge. “Is it? Or are we grasping at ghosts again? We’ve gone down these trails before. The journal, the letters, the cipher in the map—we’ve followed all of them, and half led to nothing but locked doors and fading ink. How do we know this isn’t just another dead end?”

I stepped forward, letting the weight of his doubt settle before I spoke. “Because this one moved.”

Their gazes turned to me.

“It shimmered, right in front of us. The same way the entrance to Cordelia’s chamber did, but this one reacts to silence—total, undisturbed silence. That’s why it vanished before. Samael spoke, and it closed.” I paused. “Now I understand how it works, exactly like the letter told us. Silence.”

Lydia folded her arms, brow furrowed. “You’re certain it was the same kind of enchantment?”

“I am. The way it flickered. The way the stone distorted. It’s identical. And you all remember the letter—the one I found that first night in the library.”

“The one that mentioned the relics,” Bethany said, quieter now. “Four still remaining.”

I nodded. “Seven relics of the Vale. Two destroyed by the sisters. One—Raven’s Echo—is the one I carry.” I touched the amulet lightly beneath my collar. “That leaves four. Four still out there. Four still vulnerable.”

A long silence settled between us, stretching out like the shadow of what lay ahead.

Bethany spoke first, her voice laced with fear she didn’t bother to hide. “If this portal leads to one of them—what happens if someone else gets there first?”

“Then we lose more than a relic,” Lydia said grimly. “We lose the chance to stop them.”

Samael straightened from where he leaned against the wall, the firelight catching on the silver cuff at his ear. “Then we don’t let that happen. We know where one is now. We go after it before anyone else can.”

Leander laughed once, bitter and short. “Easy for you to say. You’ve never been the one with everything to lose.”

Samael’s jaw ticked, but he didn’t respond.

I stepped between them. “Enough. No one’s pretending this is safe.

Or simple. But we don’t have the luxury of comfort anymore.

The relics aren’t just myths—they’re real.

We know that. We’ve seen one, held it, heard its voice.

Now the rest are calling. Cordelia left a path.

We either follow it or we let someone else reach the end first.”

Bethany exhaled slowly, drawing her knees up on the bench. “Whoever left that letter knew they needed to be destroyed; they knew history would repeat itself.”

“She lost her life trying to locate them,” I said, “and she knew it couldn’t be stopped unless someone picked up where she left off.”

Lydia’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Then we start preparing. Tonight.”

“But if we’re wrong,” Leander said quietly, “and we walk through that corridor chasing a ghost—what’s left of us then?”

No one had an answer. We only had firelight and the sound of our breathing.

“I’d rather chase ghosts,” I said finally, “than wait in the dark while the world burns.”

Leander looked at me, long and hard—then nodded once. It wasn’t trust. Not yet, but it was enough.

That word hung in the air, heavy and sharp, like a warning bell tolling in the distance. We couldn’t afford to waste a moment.

Four crucial relics remained, each possibly leading to disaster… or salvation.

Bethany glanced at the glowing sigils etched into the floor. “Then we need to move. Fast.”

Lydia stepped forward, her expression already calculating.

“We’ll need to replicate the conditions of the riddle—complete silence, emotional control, focused intent.

Samael, we practiced it in this very chamber before.

It was incredible. Are you comfortable with your ability to construct the silencing bubble? ”

Samael ran his fingers over the stubble on his chin, a smirk forming on his lips. “Don’t underestimate me, Miss Westcott. I promise you—I won’t be a burden to your plan. On the contrary, I will be an asset in every feasible way.”

Before Lydia could say anything, Bethany glanced down at her gown, then back at me with a grimace. “Also, we can’t exactly chase relics while tripping over floor-length silk.”

I looked at her—at all of us. Wrinkled velvet, lace sleeves, tangled hair and smudged liner from hours of dancing and danger. We were still draped in the finery of celebration, but it hung off us now like an old skin. One that didn’t belong to the war we were about to walk into.

“We need to change,” I agreed. “We’ll split up, go to our dorms, gather what we need—clothes, spell books, crystals, anything you can carry quietly. Then meet again outside the dormitories in an hour. No one speaks when we get there. Not a word.”

Samael looked toward the hall, frowning slightly. “The halls will be watched, even this late. The enchanted armor patrols the floor through the night.”

“There’s still time,” Lydia said. “Today’s the last day of reprieve before classes resume. No professors on early rounds. We have a window—narrow, but real.”

Leander gave a low whistle. “You’ve really thought this through.”

Lydia shot him a look. “Some of us don’t rely on charm and winging it.”

“We’ll keep to the shadows,” Samael added, stepping to my side. “I’ll make sure Elvana gets there safely.”

Bethany made a noise at the back of her throat. “We’re not splitting up like we’re in a horror story. Pairs, minimum.”

“We go together,” I said. “All of us. We don’t separate again until the portal is open.”

The room fell quiet for a moment. Not from fear, but focus.

We were no longer a gathering of curious students chasing a mystery.

We were a unit. A force. A line between what was hidden and what waited to be found.

“Okay, it’s a plan. Get what you need,” I said. “We meet back in the courtyard in an hour.”

As we turned toward the painting that would lead us out, the Raven’s Echo stirred faintly beneath my collar, a whisper brushing my mind like a breath:

"The door opens only for those who move without voice—and without fear."

This time, I didn’t flinch.

I was ready.