Page 14

I drop the crimson tome onto the table with a heavy thud, the sound echoing like a proclamation in the quiet room. Elara flinches at the noise, but her gaze remains fixed on the book.

“Is this place yours?” she asks, finally breaking the silence. Her voice is soft but edged with exhaustion.

“For now,” I reply, unbuckling the straps of my cloak and tossing it over the back of a chair. “It’s hidden well enough. No one ventures out this far.”

She nods faintly and walks closer to the table. The moonlight filters through narrow windows, illuminating the tome’s crimson leather. It captures her attention like a beacon, or a curse.

“This thing,” she murmurs softly, almost to herself. “It changes everything.”

I move to the hearth and start working the old kindling, needing something to occupy my hands.

Sparks crackle to life beneath my blade, and soon, a small fire flickers, illuminating the room.

“It changes nothing yet,” I correct her.

“Right now, it’s just knowledge. Dangerous, yes, but powerless without action. ”

Elara looks up at me, her eyes sharp despite her weariness. “ Then we act. You said the Council’s power has cracks in its foundation. This, ” she gestures to the tome, “is the first one we can pry open.”

I let out a low, approving hum. “We will, but not tonight.”

She scowls at that, her frustration evident. “We can’t afford to wait. You said it yourself, every day that passes, the Council becomes stronger. And Kaelen, ”

I raise a hand to stop her. “And if we go after them half- prepared, we’ll lose everything, including the chance to save Kaelen. I know you’re ready to fight, but rushing in blind is exactly what they want. The Council thrives on recklessness.”

Her fists clench at her sides, and I see her defiance flare for a moment.

But she bites back her protest, turning to gaze into the fire.

I can see the tension in her shoulders, the weight she’s carrying pressing down on her like a heavy shroud.

She cares for Kaelen; that much is clear.

I can’t blame her for it, even if that bond complicates everything.

I step closer, my voice softening. “We’ll tear them down, Elara. Piece by piece, brick by brick. But we’ll do it wisely, and we’ll win.”

Her gaze flickers towards me, doubt and resolve to battle in her expression. “Are you sure?”

I meet her gaze. “I’ve spent years studying the Council, waiting for a chance like this. And you, ” I pause, my lips curling into a faint, dark smile. “They have no idea what you’re capable of yet. That’s our advantage.”

For a moment, neither of us speaks. The fire crackles softly, enveloping the space between us with its warmth. Finally, she exhales, releasing some of the tension from her frame. “Fine. So what’s the plan?”

“Rest,” I reply succinctly. Her brow furrows, clearly unim- pressed, but I continue before she can argue. “You’re no use to anyone if you’re dead on your feet. Tomorrow, we’ll determine our next move. But for tonight, you need sleep. ”

She gazes at me momentarily, as if trying to decide if I’m serious. Then, with hesitation, she nods.

“Where?” she asks.

I gesture toward a small room adjoining the hall, its door slightly ajar. “There. It’s not much, but it’s better than the ground.”

She gives me a sceptical look but doesn’t argue. As she leaves, I speak again, this time with a softer tone.

“Elara...”

She halts, glancing back at me.

“You performed admirably tonight,” I say, maintaining her

gaze. “Most people would have faltered under less.” Something flickers in her expression, perhaps surprise or something she isn’t ready to name. She doesn’t reply but slightly dips her head in acknowledgement before vanishing

into the room.

Once she’s gone, I let out a slow breath and sink into one

of the worn chairs by the fire. The crimson tome rests on the table, its presence a dark promise. I stare at it, the flames casting shifting shadows across its gilded edges.

The Council’s secrets belong to us now, a weapon they never anticipated losing. When the time arrives, I will make them regret ever underestimating us.

The fire dims further, shadows swallowing the room as the night deepens. I glance towards the room where Elara is. She’s already changing, becoming something they’ll regret ever provoking.

But even though she’s behind the door, I can’t ignore my gaze. A part of me wants to follow her, to say something, reassure her, and stop her from carrying even a sliver of this weight alone. Another part of me knows better. No matter how much I wish I could, I can’t fix this for her.

I lean back in the chair, my eyes drifting to the embers in the hearth. For a moment, I let my mind wander to a dangerous place, a place I rarely allow myself to go .

It terrifies me.

I’ve spent my life standing on the edge of war, dancing with danger as if it were an old friend. I’ve lost good people to this struggle, and I vowed never to let anyone matter enough to become a weakness.

Elara is not a weakness. She is something much worse.

She is the fire I have spent years searching for, the one spark that could reduce the Council’s empire to ashes. However, I also wish to protect her, something I cannot bear to see consumed by the flames of this war.

I think about how her lips parted when she spoke earlier, her voice low yet steady.

The way the firelight caught the delicate curve of her jaw, with shadows softening the edges of her expression.

The thought of her hands trembling in exhaustion makes me want, need me, to pull her close, press my lips to her forehead, and whisper that I would fix this and carry the burden for her.

I want to protect her from the Council, bond, and cruel, merciless world that shaped me into who I am.

From everything.

But I can’t. I know that. She wouldn’t let me, even if I tried. Maybe that’s what draws me to her even more. She’s not a fragile thing to be saved, she’s a storm, ready to tear through whatever stands in her path.

And yet, despite all I know, everything I’ve vowed, I still picture pressing my lips to hers, just once. Not as a promise or a distraction, but as something real. A reminder that we’re alive, that we’re more than pawns in someone else’s game.

The thought pierces through me sharper than any blade. I grit my teeth and pull my gaze from the ember-lit shadows. Focus, I remind myself. There’s no room for that here. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Elara is too important, too vital to this fight. I can’t let my feelings, these dangerous thoughts, interfere. I can’t afford to be selfish .

But even as I turn my attention back to the crimson tome, my jaw set, I can still sense the ghost of her presence lingering in the room. The fire, the resolve, the storm she carries with her. And deep inside, where I bury the emotions I can’t permit myself to feel, I make a silent promise.

Regardless of the cost or the transformation I undergo, I will protect her even if it costs me all.

The flames were barely more than a whisper now, soft embers glowing faintly, their warmth ephemeral.

I sat in the shadows, my hand braced against the crimson tome, my grip on the leather taut.

Not because of the book itself, but due to the weight of what it carried.

The truths within were damning, dangerous, and essential.

Yet, despite everything, my thoughts were elsewhere, focusing on something, someone, far more perilous.

Elara.

Her voice echoed in my mind, steady and defiant, the fire in her words unyielding as she vowed to dismantle the Council’s hold.

I had seen that kind of resolve before, but never quite like this, never coupled with the quiet trust she had placed in me.

It lingered, catching me off guard during moments like this, when the silence tempted me to dwell on it too long. Trust. I didn’t fully deserve it.

I exhaled slowly, running a hand through my hair as I pushed

the thoughts away. Elara was asleep by now, or at least she should be.

She needed the rest, and I needed to think.

To plan. To harden myself against everything that lay ahead.

I’d spent years burying my desires beneath the weight of war and duty.

I knew how to master the pull of temptation, the dangerous feelings that stirred when the world grew quiet and walls came down.

And yet.

My gaze shifted toward the darkened hallway where her room lay.

The thin wooden door was all that separated her from me, and I could see it clearly in my mind, her figure curled beneath the meagre blanket, burdened by too much for sleep to come easily.

Elara had held her own tonight and stood tall when most would crumble.

Elara, who shouldn’t have to bear the weight of this war.

I told myself firmly, she doesn’t need you hovering. She doesn’t need you.

And yet I rose to my feet, as if some invisible thread had pulled me there. My movements were careful and precise, each step silent as I approached her door. I told myself it was to check on her, to make sure she was safe, unharmed, and nothing more.

But deep down, I knew better.

I paused just outside her door, my hand brushing against the worn wood as I leaned in.

Through the silence, I could hear the soft rhythm of her breathing, steady, though not entirely restful.

I closed my eyes briefly, imagining her there in the dark, still weighed down by the night and the truths we’d uncovered.

I wished I could take it all from her, that I could bear the burden alone, so it wouldn’t haunt her anymore.

But more than that, I envisioned stepping through that door, crossing the line I had drawn so carefully between us.

I could see it, how I’d kneel beside her, how she’d turn toward me, her sharp gaze softening just enough in the dark.

I imagined touching her, brushing the hair strands from her face, my fingers lingering just a little longer than necessary.

I swallowed hard, my jaw clenching as the thought deepened.

How easy it would be to close the distance, tilt her chin up, and let my lips hover close enough to feel the warmth of her breath.

What would her expression be, surprise? Acceptance?

Something in between? I didn’t know, but the thought of it burned hotter than it should have.

Fool.

My hand fell away from the door, fingers curling into a tight fist as I pulled myself back from the edge of that thought.

I couldn’t do this. I wouldn’t. Giving in to temptation would shatter everything: her trust in me, my ability to protect her, the purpose we shared.

Elara needed an ally, not a man distracted by the sound of her voice or the way moonlight softened her sharp edges.

I turned abruptly, retreating into the shadows.

My steps were measured and deliberate, but my heart hadn’t yet syn- chronised with my resolve.

Back in the darkened room, I sank into the chair, the tome heavy again in my hand.

I stared at the faint embers in the hearth, their glow flickering like the ache I was trying to extinguish.

I couldn’t let it win. Elara deserved more than a man who let his feelings cloud his judgment. She deserved someone who could protect her without hesitation, someone stronger.

But as the fire’s final light faded, I couldn’t shake the thought that came uninvited: How long could I keep fighting this? How long before the pull I felt, toward her, toward something more, became too strong to resist?

The truth haunted me as much as the silence did.