Page 13

I slip through the jagged pass at twilight, heart battering my ribs as I make my way back to the coven’s hidden sanctuary.

The air here is noticeably colder, the high altitude chilling the sweat on my skin.

My legs ache from days of near-constant travel, and a dull throbbing haunts my shoulder—a souvenir of the last monstrous battle and my frantic clash with Vaelin.

Just thinking his name tightens my chest with conflicting emotions I’m not ready to face.

Rounding the final bend, I spot the narrow path that leads to the coven entrance, half-concealed by boulders and creeping vines.

Dim orbs of arcane light glow along the corridor, illuminating the damp rock walls.

Exhaustion claws at me, but I push forward, ignoring the roiling tension in my stomach.

This was once my refuge, a safe haven from the violent world below.

Now, every step pulses with dread.

In my travels, I found out something.

I have to return despite the dangers.

The Red Purnas have turned on their own, I remind myself grimly, and if I don’t warn the Matriarch, we could all be doomed.

I pause just outside the main cavern, straining my ears for any sign of trouble.

The usual hum of practicing spells and quiet chatter is conspicuously muted.

My breath plumes in the cold air.

I brace a hand on the rock, swallowing my nerves.

For days, I’ve been on the run.

I never dreamed returning home would feel so terrifying.

Summoning a thread of courage, I move inside.

Arcane torches embedded in the walls cast shifting patterns on the smooth stone floor.

The corridor opens into the Grand Hall, supported by thick pillars carved with ancient runes.

Normally, I’d see groups of Purnas discussing their craft or preparing meals in communal areas.

Tonight, the space is almost deserted, the hush ominous.

My footsteps echo as I edge past the central dais.

Movement flickers at the far corner—a cluster of younger purnas glancing my way, their faces drawn with fear.

One of them, a girl named Mirena, clutches her staff protectively, as though expecting an attack.

The moment our eyes meet, she turns and runs, disappearing down a side passage.

A hollow feeling spreads through me.

They’re afraid. Of what?

Me? I know rumors of my disappearance must be swirling, not to mention the prophecy—and now the Red Purnas’ betrayal.

My chest feels tight with the weight of everything I must convey.

I head toward the Matriarch’s private quarters, navigating halls illuminated by gentle spells.

My mind spins with what I must tell her: the Red Purnas are orchestrating attacks, Vaelin’s desperate pursuit, the monstrous creatures prowling near the Wildsponts, and the creeping rumors that the gargoyles stir beneath Protheka’s crust. I recall the fervor in Nerissa’s eyes, how the Red Purnas believed I should be exploited or destroyed.

They’ll move against us soon if they haven’t already.

At the threshold of a familiar archway, I find two older purnas standing guard—Talima and Bessare.

Talima’s gaze narrows the instant she sees me.

“Elira,” she says stiffly, blocking my path.

My throat constricts.

“I have to see the Matriarch. It’s urgent.”

Talima exchanges a wary look with Bessare before stepping aside.

“She’s in council with the elders.” Her glare suggests she doubts whether I should be allowed through.

But Bessare gently touches Talima’s arm, and they both shift to let me pass.

A swirl of unease tightens my gut—I sense suspicion radiating off them like a tangible force.

I slip into the Matriarch’s chamber, a circular space lined with shelves of weathered tomes and jars of magical ingredients.

A large brazier occupies the center, its coals glowing a low red, casting dancing shadows on the carved walls.

At the far side, Matriarch Lumeria stands with three elders—Yvara, Quelina, and Sarene.

Their voices hush the moment I enter.

The Matriarch lifts her head, silver braid draped over one shoulder.

Her gaze pins me in place.

Relief flickers across her features, then wariness bleeds in.

“Elira,” she greets, voice even.

“You’ve returned sooner than expected. We told you we will contact you when it’s safe.”

My pulse thrums. I step forward, ignoring the dryness in my throat.

“Matriarch, I have critical news. The Red Purnas—they’ve escalated their attacks. I’ve seen evidence of their brutality firsthand. They’re planning a betrayal that could harm the coven.”

Lumeria’s lips press into a tight line.

“We feared as much. But your disappearance caused alarm. Many believed you’d cut ties with us entirely. We couldn’t tell everyone about what’s happening, that we had to send you away.”

Heat sparks in my cheeks.

“Never. I only left to avoid endangering the coven further. You asked me to leave.” I swallow, summoning calm.

“The Red Purnas intend to lure me into a trap. They’re openly assaulting our kind and humans and possibly forging alliances with the Overlord’s enforcer to capture me.”

A tense silence follows.

I notice the elders exchange anxious glances.

Yvara, known for her stoic wisdom, arches a brow.

“You speak of alliances with a Dark Elf. Are you certain?”

I breathe shakily.

“Yes. There are rumors of them wanting to harness my power—force me to lead a war. They won’t rest until they succeed.”

The Matriarch nods, her gaze flicking to Quelina.

“We suspected the Red Purnas might turn brutal. But forging alliances with Dark Elves? That’s news to us. We’ll consider how best to protect the coven.”

I exhale, a measure of relief slipping in.

At least they’re taking me seriously.

“We need to prepare defensive wards,” I continue, scanning their faces.

“Any illusions we have won’t deter them forever. They’re cunning, and they know our vulnerabilities.”

Quelina’s eyes drift over my travel-worn figure.

“You look exhausted. Have you encountered them directly?”

I hesitate.

How much do I reveal about Vaelin?

The memory of his lips on mine still scorches my mind, tangled with the recollection of our precarious truce.

“I… had a confrontation with one group,” I hedge.

“They’re ruthless. They attacked me, forced me to use dangerous magic to escape.”

Lumeria’s keen gaze doesn’t waver.

“Is that all that happened, child?” She steps closer, the brazier’s light flickering across her stern features.

“There are rumors swirling about you and a Dark Elf enforcer. We heard you’d been seen together more than once. Some say you’ve… allied with him.”

My stomach clenches.

I can almost taste the fear that saturates this space.

“It’s not like that,” I murmur.

“He pursued me—nearly captured me. But we… ended up fighting side by side against monstrous creatures in a Wildspont.” I pause, uncertain how to phrase the complicated reality.

“He let me go.”

A hush descends.

Sarene breaks it first, voice trembling with apprehension.

“Why would a Dark Elf enforcer let you go if his Overlord wants you so badly? Are you certain you haven’t been compromised? They excel at manipulation.”

My spine stiffens.

“I’d never betray the coven. The Overlord’s enforcer—Vaelin—was wounded, and we barely survived. It was a moment of necessity, not conspiracy.” My cheeks warm under their skeptical stares.

They suspect me of treachery, or worse.

Yvara’s lips pinch. “You appear… unsettled. We worry this Dark Elf might have influenced you.”

Anger and shame war within me.

The memory of that heated moment in the ruined temple flares again, stirring emotions I can’t fully name.

“He’s not controlling me,” I say sharply.

“I returned because the Red Purnas are the real threat. They could tear this coven apart if we don’t act.”

Lumeria exchanges glances with the elders, a silent conference passing between them.

Finally, she speaks, voice measured.

“We must trust in your intentions, Elira, but caution demands we verify. We’ll have wards placed around you—subtle spells to detect if any foreign magic lingers. If you truly stand clean of the Dark Elves’ influence, you won’t mind.”

My pride bristles, but I understand.

“Fine,” I acquiesce softly.

“Do what you must. I want the same thing you do—to keep our people safe.”

She nods, relief warring with lingering doubt.

“Very well.” She beckons me to approach the brazier.

“We’ll do the detection spell now. Yvara, prepare the incantation.”

I move closer, ignoring the hollow dread in my stomach.

Yvara steps forward, chanting under her breath, hands outstretched.

Gentle threads of arcane light swirl around me, warm yet probing.

I remain still as the magic tingles over my skin—an intangible brush searching for traces of Dark Elf enchantments or hidden illusions.

After a few moments, Yvara lets out a long sigh.

“I detect no overt spell tethering her to dark forces.”

I release the breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

Lumeria’s shoulders relax a fraction, though unease still shadows her eyes.

“We believe you, Elira,” she says.

“But you must be forthright with us about any further… entanglements.”

I clamp my lips together, uncertain how to articulate the messy swirl of emotions connected to Vaelin.

“There’s nothing else,” I manage.

Part of me feels guilty for concealing the physical aspect of our encounter, but I can’t bear their condemnation.

Quelina nods. “We’ll keep an eye on you regardless. Now, about the Red Purnas. Do you have a sense of their next move?”

I swallow hard, forcing my thoughts away from Vaelin.

“They might target outlying covens or human settlements rumored to harbor purnas. I heard talk of them sowing chaos to draw me out. They think I’d rush to defend anyone in danger. And they’re right—I can’t stand by if they slaughter innocents.”

Soft murmurs run through the elders.

The Matriarch’s gaze flicks between them.

“We’ll strengthen our wards and send envoys to warn other covens. Meanwhile, Elira, you should rest.” She lifts a hand to forestall my protest. “You’re exhausted. Your shoulder is obviously injured, and your magic must be nearly spent.”

I want to argue, but a wave of weariness slams me.

She’s right; I can barely remain upright.

“Fine,” I concede. “But only for a brief spell. Then I’ll help with defenses.”

The Matriarch steps closer, placing a gentle palm on my bruised shoulder.

A tender warmth seeps from her hand, easing some tension.

“We’re glad you’re back, child. We stand stronger together.”

A flicker of guilt courses through me for the secrecy and conflict that drove me away.

“I understand,” I murmur.

Then I stagger, dizziness making the room tilt.

Quelina rushes forward to steady me.

“Rest,” Yvara repeats firmly.

“We’ll wake you if trouble arises.”

With no further argument left in me, I let them guide me from the Matriarch’s chamber.

My legs feel like water, my mind spinning with unanswered questions.

Outside, the corridor is quieter than before—most purnas likely behind locked doors or in smaller gatherings, bracing for the possibility of an attack.

As I shuffle toward my old quarters, I sense eyes on me.

Glancing back, I spot Olyssia, my closest friend, standing at the end of the corridor.

She doesn’t rush forward.

Instead, she hesitates, studying me with a guarded expression.

My chest tightens. If even Olyssia is wary, how bad have the rumors grown?

Still, I approach her slowly.

“Olyssia… hey.” My voice cracks with a mixture of relief and trepidation.

She tilts her head, fiery curls framing her face.

“You’re alive. We weren’t sure. Word spread that you’d been traveling with a Dark Elf.” Her tone carries a trace of hurt.

“I didn’t know what to believe.”

My heart clenches.

“It’s complicated,” I admit.

“He’s tried to capture me, yes, but… we also ended up fighting side by side. It’s not some grand alliance. I swear.”

Her expression softens, though apprehension remains in her eyes.

“I never doubted your heart, Elira. Just worried he might’ve twisted your mind somehow.”

I recall Vaelin’s pained gaze, the brush of his lips.

My face warms involuntarily.

“He didn’t twist me,” I say quietly.

“It’s all a mess, but I haven’t forgotten who I am.”

Olyssia releases a breath, then steps closer to wrap me in a tentative hug.

I collapse against her, relieved by the familiar warmth of her embrace.

She smells of lavender and old parchment, a comforting reminder of better times.

“I missed you,” she murmurs, voice muffled by my hair.

I clear my throat. “I missed you too. I just… had to protect everyone by staying away.” Pulling back, I meet her gaze.

“But the Red Purnas are out of control. We have to be ready.”

She nods, eyes flicking around for eavesdroppers.

“Tensions run high. The Matriarch’s been dealing with internal disputes daily. Everyone’s on edge, especially after hearing that some purnas vanished, presumably taken by the Red Purnas or… worse.”

A tremor runs through me.

“We need a plan. Strengthening wards might not be enough if they come in force.”

Olyssia grips my arm.

“We’ll figure it out. Let me walk you to your room; you look like you can barely stand.”

I don’t argue.

Letting her guide me, I shuffle down the corridor until we reach the door to my old quarters—an alcove carved into the rock.

I push the curtain aside, stepping into the small space.

A worn rug covers the smooth stone floor, and a simple bed sits against the wall.

I never realized how much I missed this place until now.

Olyssia sets a hand on my shoulder.

“Rest. I’ll bring you a hot drink and maybe some stew. You need strength.”

My knees nearly buckle at the promise of warm food.

“Thank you,” I whisper, voice cracking with gratitude.

She offers a faint smile before slipping out, leaving me alone in the soft glow of a single arcane orb.

Collapsing onto the bed, I let out a shaky breath.

My body throbs in protest—my shoulder especially.

Rolling up my sleeve, I see purplish bruises spreading across the skin.

The memory of Vaelin’s blade pressing me to the ground flashes through my head, followed by his lips meeting mine in an unexpected rush.

My heart lurches. Even in the relative safety of my room, I can’t escape the storm of confusion he’s sown in me.

I try to still my mind, focusing on the hush of the coven’s ancient magic.

The walls here practically hum with protective wards carved over generations.

Once, I found solace in that comforting hum.

Now, I can’t quiet the swirl of guilt, longing, and dread over the revelations swirling outside these halls.

The gargoyles…

My eyes drift shut despite the worries.

I slip into a shallow doze, only half-aware of my breathing.

Time passes in a blur until a soft footstep rouses me.

My eyes flutter open, and I find Olyssia standing there with a steaming bowl and a clay cup.

The savory aroma makes my mouth water.

She hands me the meal without a word, then helps me sit up, adjusting a pillow behind my back.

I murmur thanks and dive into the stew, each spoonful fueling my battered body.

When the bowl is half-finished, Olyssia sinks onto the edge of the bed, studying me with concern.

“Elira,” she begins softly, “while you were gone, the Matriarch discovered more evidence the gargoyles are stirring. Minor quakes, strange howls near old battle sites. It’s no coincidence.”

My spoon hovers, a cold fear trickling through me.

“So it’s true. They’re really waking.” My heart pounds.

The prophecy I never asked for lingers over me like a curse.

Seal or free them. The Red Purnas thirst for that power, the Overlord’s forces likewise.

Everyone wants to harness or destroy me for it.

Olyssia sets a hand on my arm.

“We don’t know how soon or how many. But the signs are clear, and I’m afraid some… have escaped our detection. If all of them break free, they’ll be unstoppable. The coven is terrified.”

I swallow.

“Then we can’t just hide. We must find a way to stop them or… handle it. The prophecy—” My voice falters, memories of the Matriarch’s vision crashing into me.

I might be the only one capable of sealing them again.

Or unleashing them, if I’m not careful.

She squeezes my arm gently.

“The Matriarch wants to keep you safe, but some of the elders fear you’ll unintentionally free them with your chaotic power. All these rumors about your contact with a Dark Elf aren’t helping. People panic, suspecting you might be manipulated into unleashing the gargoyles.”

The stew sours in my stomach.