Page 44 of Eluvonia (Rift of Ages #1)

KAIDA

H ours have slipped by in silence, the only sound in the room is the rustle of paper and the occasional mutter under our breath.

The desk is cluttered with stacks of documents—some yellowed with age, others crisp and freshly written.

My father’s study has always felt like a fortress of knowledge, walls lined with bookshelves, each one packed with endless rows of dusty tomes.

But the books seem less inviting today, their secrets eluding us as we shuffle through endless reports, hoping for a breakthrough.

I sit at the desk, leaning my head on my arm, the weight of fatigue dragging my gaze lower and lower with each passing page. The paper feels cold against my fingertips as I flip through another pile, my eyes barely registering the words anymore.

Across from me, Declan sits cross-legged on the floor, a pile of papers beside him.

He’s flipping through them at a pace that’s almost too fast—there’s urgency in his movements.

His brow furrows slightly as he reads, his lips twitching every now and then as if he’s on the verge of saying something but holds it back.

After a few minutes of silence, Declan breaks it. “Hey, why didn’t your father do an investigation?” His voice is casual, but I can tell he’s genuinely curious. He sets aside the document in his hand and picks up another, squinting at the text.

I grunt in response, my attention still on the pile of documents in front of me. “Because Aeris is a Fae,” I reply simply, not bothering to lift my head.

Declan’s eyes flick up to me, his expression a mix of disbelief and confusion. “So, she doesn’t deserve a proper trial?”

I finally lift my head, giving him a sidelong glance. “Not in my father’s eyes,” I mutter. My fingers drum lightly on the desk, the sound a faint rhythm against the silence. “Especially with what’s happening right now in Eluvonia.”

Declan stands, stretching with a grunt. I watch him move to the bookshelf on the right side of the room.

He runs his fingers along the spines of the books, then pulls one out.

It’s old, simple—just a brown leather-bound tome with gold designs along the edges.

The cover is worn, as if it’s been through fire, and there are stains on it—old blood, maybe.

I sit up a little straighter, curious. “What’s that?” I ask, my eyes narrowing as he carefully flips through the pages. The ends of the book crack and fray, like the pages are barely holding together.

Declan doesn’t answer immediately. His gaze drifts over the pages, brow furrowed in concentration. After a moment, he looks at me, his voice low. “It looks like a journal of some sort,” he says, his fingers delicately tracing the paper .

I stand and move toward him, peering over his shoulder as he turns the pages. The faint scent of leather and ink fills the air as I watch the pages flutter under Declan’s touch.

He stops at a section dated a little over three thousand years ago, but it’s in old Elarien, a dead language that very few can read today. I glance at Declan as his eyes scan the page.

“Can you read this?” I ask.

He nods absentmindedly. “My translations might be a bit rough, but I can understand enough of it,” he says, his voice low as he begins to translate the words in front of him.

Entry: 1st of Thalia, 2975 AE

The king’s pressing harder on the destruction of the Arboriscyne forest, insisting that a military base be constructed there.

The ancient woods, sacred to our people, hold not only life but secrets from the old magics.

But his obsession with control blinds him to these truths.

He believes that if the forest is razed, Eluvonia will be fortified for the coming storm.

The king believes the reports of an impending invasion by the demons of Eldrathir, but there is no concrete proof to support his claims. The demons remain locked in their realm, and there is no evidence to suggest they’ve breached its borders.

I am starting to believe that the king has lost his grip on reality.

He uses the threat of these demons as a convenient excuse to justify the destruction of Eluvonia.

These demons, these fiends from beyond our realm, are said—-by the king—to be planning an invasion, a campaign to claim the very land that pulses with magic through her veins.

Their leader, veiled in secrecy, is rumored to have whispers of a new weapon that could control Eluvonia’s heart.

If such a weapon exists, it could turn the balance of power between our realms into dust. Despite these dark tales, nothing solid points to these ‘reports’.

I fear the king is fabricating an excuse to destroy our lands.

The forces he is rallying, the militarization of Eluvonia—it all feels like the prelude to a war that need not be fought. I cannot ignore the growing tension, the dark clouds gathering on the horizon, but I still wonder if they are merely the king’s creation.

I feel the winds changing, the forest growing restless, its ancient roots trembling beneath the surface. The balance is teetering, and I am certain the time to act will soon be upon us.

I stare at him, my mind spinning.

“The demons from Eldrathir?” I ask, my voice betraying none of the shock I feel.

Declan looks at me, his face blank for a moment. “I’ve never heard of that realm,” he says, clearly as confused as I am. He flips through more pages, his eyes scanning quickly.

He looks up at me, his expression thoughtful. “Looks like this belonged to a council member before the war started. Why would it be in your father’s study?”

I take the book from him carefully, my fingers brushing against the worn leather. As I flip through the pages, a strange sense of unease settles in my chest.

I close the book gently and glance at Declan, who’s watching me with quiet expectation. “This doesn’t help Aeris, though,” I say, my tone firm as I set the journal aside. “I’ll keep this, but we need to focus on her for now. We’ll look through it another day.”

Declan nods, his lips pressed together in a thin line. Without a word, he goes back to the pile of documents on the floor, sifting through them with renewed focus.

I settle back at the desk, my eyes flicking over the scattered papers in front of me. The weight of everything presses down on me again—the investigation, my father’s attitude, Aeris’s fate. There’s no way I’m going to let her suffer because of some old grudges.

I tap my fingers against the wood, the sound sharp in the stillness. Declan’s voice breaks the quiet once more, his words sharp but filled with quiet determination.

“We’ll get her out of this,” he says, not looking up.

I don’t respond. Instead, I stand up, stretch the tension out of my back, and then return to the piles of documents.

The day drags on, the hours slipping by unnoticed as we work. But something tells me that we’re getting closer.