Chapter 28 Elle #3
“I can survive if it means you don’t walk into a trap,” she said, reading my hesitation. “I can hold on if it means breaking this never-ending cycle.”
“You’re asking me to trust that this time will be different when sixteen other versions have failed.”
“No.” She pulled me closer, her forehead pressed against mine. “I’m asking you to trust me. Not the pattern, not the prophecy, not some cosmic fucking wheel—me. Elle. The woman you’ve gotten really attached to and would burn both worlds for.”
Despite everything, the rage, the fear, I almost smiled. “That’s not what you said before.”
“I’m paraphrasing. The point stands.” Her hands slid up to frame my face. “I’m not the same Elle from the other iterations. I know about them now. I know what fails. And I’m too stubborn and too pissed off to let Auradelle win just because sixteen other versions of me couldn’t figure it out.”
I studied her face—exhausted, marked, but absolutely fierce. She was right. This Elle wasn’t like the others. And I did. Trust her. Completely.
Even though it meant five days of travel with her pain echoing through the bond.
Even though it meant feeling every moment of tomorrow’s torture session and the next day’s, unable to reach her, unable to help.
Even though every instinct I had screamed at me to leave now, to close that distance as fast as physically possible.
“Just don’t lose yourself before you get there,” she whispered.
“I won’t.” I kissed her forehead. “You’re my anchor.”
“And we’re both alive,” she added.
“That too.”
The space around us was starting to destabilize—her physical body pulling her back, exhaustion and pain too deep to maintain this connection much longer.
“Wait,” I said. “I’ll make sure our assault is different from the other timelines.” I pulled her close for one last desperate kiss. “No charging in blind. No walking into obvious traps. No repeating the same mistakes.”
“Good.” She kissed me back fiercely. “Because I’m tired of dying in other timelines. This one needs to stick.”
“It will.” I made it a vow, a promise, a threat to reality itself. “This iteration breaks the wheel. Or I’ll tear through time itself to make sure it does.”
She was fading faster now, her form becoming translucent.
“Stay alive,” I commanded. “Whatever happens tomorrow, whatever he does to you—stay alive.”
“You too. Don’t let the corruption—”
But the connection shattered before she could finish.
One moment she was in my arms, solid and real. The next, I came back to myself standing in the middle of the rebel camp, my corruption having carved a perfect circle of destruction around me. Trees were dead within twenty feet. Grass turned to ash. Even the stones looked scorched.
The others stood well back, watching me with the usual mix of fear and wariness. But my eyes found Eltrien immediately.
He stood at the edge of the group, mycelial marks pulsing with that infuriating calm, watching me with eyes that held too much knowledge.
“You knew,” I said, and my voice came out more growl than speech. “About the iterations. About the sixteen failures. You’ve known the whole fucking time.”
Silence fell over the camp like a shroud.
“Sixteen what?” Thrak asked, confused.
“Timelines,” I said, not taking my eyes off Eltrien. “Sixteen times this story has played out. Sixteen times Elle and I have tried to stop Auradelle. Sixteen times we’ve failed and the cycle resets. And our dear healer has been carrying that knowledge like a dirty little secret.”
Eltrien’s marks pulsed faster, but his expression remained calm. “Yes.”
Just that. Yes. No denial, no explanation, just flat admission.
“You want to elaborate on that?” Vashael demanded, her voice sharp. “You want to explain why you’ve been guiding us through a pattern you knew was doomed to fail?”
“Because every other time I tried to change it actively, we failed faster.” Eltrien’s voice was steady, but I could see cracks forming in his composure.
“Sixteen iterations, and I’ve tried everything.
Warning you early—you don’t believe me. Telling you the prophecy—you try to fight it and fail worse.
Hiding information—you make the same mistakes.
No matter what I do, the wheel keeps turning. ”
“Except this time?” I took a step toward him, and he actually stepped back. Smart of him. My corruption slithering across my body like serpents ready to strike.
“This time is different,” he insisted. “Can’t you feel it?
The way reality responds to you both? The impossible flowers, the creatures following you, the way the Convergence itself is behaving?
This time, Elle knows about the pattern.
That’s never happened before. And that might—might—be enough to break it. ”
“Might,” I repeated, ice in my voice.
“I don’t have certainties!” For the first time, Eltrien sounded desperate.
“I have sixteen timelines of failure and one that’s finally, finally diverging from the pattern.
Do you want me to risk that by interfering more than I already have?
Do you want me to become the thing that makes us fail again? ”
“I want you to stop playing games with our lives!” The words came out as a roar, backed by corruption that made everyone except Eltrien step further back. “I want you to tell us the truth so we can make informed decisions instead of stumbling through someone else’s cosmic fucking joke!”
“The truth?” Eltrien laughed, and it was a terrible sound.
“The truth is that we’re trapped in a story that’s been told sixteen times.
The truth is that no matter what Elle chooses—save you, save the realms, sacrifice herself—we all die.
The truth is that I’ve watched everyone I care about die sixteen times, and the only thing keeping me sane is the tiny, desperate hope that this time might be different. ”
His marks exploded with light, bright enough to make people shield their eyes.
And in that light, I saw them—fragments of other timelines, ghosting through reality like afterimages.
Other versions of this moment. Other versions of me, confronting other versions of Eltrien, having this same argument sixteen different ways.
I watched as the rest of the crew looked on with horror. Their eyes shifting between the two of us.
“So yes,” Eltrien continued, his voice echoing across iterations, “I’ve been keeping secrets.
I’ve been playing games. I’ve been desperately trying to nudge this timeline in a direction that doesn’t end with all of you dead and me alone in the ashes, waiting for the cycle to reset so I can watch it all happen again. ”
The Sage stepped forward, and there was no look of concern on their face.
Almost as if they knew this was coming. Great, another fucking person keeping us in the dark.
“If Elle has remembered other iterations, then that means the second transformation is complete. All that is left is the final communion with the Bloom.”
Bryx, who had been unusually quiet said, “Gods, did everyone know but us? The people who are constantly dying? I for one, would like a heads-up next time if I’m about to be hacked into a million pieces. Oh my gods, what about Kevin! Poor Kevin!”
The Sage shook their head. “My child, you know not what you speak. As we have said, there are things that cannot be shared if we do not want to further alter the timeline. And this is where I must leave you. If I continue further, we risk resetting everything, again.”
We all stood there in the scorched circle, processing what they’d both just admitted.
“How do we know you’re not just making us fail in a new way?” Sarnyx asked quietly.
“You don’t,” Eltrien said simply. “You have to trust me. Which, given that I’ve been lying by omission for the entire time you’ve known me, is a big ask. I understand that.”
“You’re damn right it is,” Vashael spat.
Peeble landed on my shoulder then, their mental voice cutting through the tension. “He’s telling the truth. About the iterations. About trying to change it. I can feel the echoes too—all the times I’ve died, all the times Elle died, all the times we got this far and failed.”
“How long have you known?” I demanded.
“Since Elle’s marks started really spreading. The memories started coming back—fragments from other timelines bleeding through.” Peeble’s tone was somber. “He’s not lying about trying to change it, Kaelren. He’s just been doing it quietly. Hoping we’d find our own way to break the pattern.”
I looked at Eltrien—still furious at his admission.
“When do we move?” Thrak asked into the silence, always practical.
“Day after tomorrow at dawn,” I said, forcing my voice back toward something human. “That gives us one more full day to plan, gather supplies, and prepare. We have to know everything we can about those tunnels.”
“That’s cutting it dangerously close,” Vashael pointed out. “If anything delays us on the road—”
“Then we push harder.” My corruption flared.
“Why wait at all?” Sarnyx asked. “Why not leave now?”
“Because leaving now means arriving when he expects us. That’s the pattern.
” I looked at each of them. “Elle saw the other timelines. Saw how they failed. Every iteration, I charge in early, corrupted and desperate, exactly when Auradelle is ready for me. This time, we arrive right before. We catch him mid-preparation. We break the pattern.”
“And if it doesn’t work?” Sarnyx asked. “If we just fail in a new way?”
I smiled, and several people stepped back. “Then we try again in iteration eighteen. But I don’t plan on giving the universe that chance.”
“Alright, everybody, get moving. You heard the man.” Thrak said, already moving into command mode. “Check weapons. Review the tunnels. Gather supplies for five days of hard travel. Make ready.”
The others dispersed, some to prepare, some just to process what they’d learned. Within minutes, only Eltrien and I remained in the circle of death.
“I’m still angry at you,” I said.
“I know.”
“When this is over, we’re having a very long conversation about trust and honesty and not playing with people’s lives.”
“I look forward to it.” He actually smiled slightly. “It’ll mean we survived.”
“It’ll mean Elle survived,” I corrected.
Eltrien’s expression softened. “You’re doing the right thing. The strategic thing. The thing that gives you both the best chance.”
“I know.” I looked up at the stars. “Doesn’t make it any easier.”
He started to walk away, then paused. “For what it’s worth, I think she can do it. This Elle—your Elle—she’s different in ways I can’t quite articulate. Stronger. More stubborn. More willing to break the rules.”
“She’s perfect,” I said simply.
“Yes.” Eltrien looked back at me, and his expression was sad and knowing. “Let’s make sure she stays that way. Alive and whole and perfect. This timeline. Not the next one.”
He left me alone in my circle of death, standing under stars that were just beginning to appear. Somewhere beyond those stars, hundreds of miles away, Elle was waking in pain. Facing another day of torture. Another day of holding on.
“Hold on,” I sent through the muffled bond, knowing she probably couldn’t hear but saying it anyway. “I’m coming.”
Different. This iteration would be different.
It had to be.
Because I couldn’t survive watching her die again.