Chapter 14
Elara
Sleep didn't come easily that night. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw that hand pressing against the glass, heard the whisper echoing in my bones. But by morning, I was determined not to let fear pin me down.
If I was going to survive here, I needed answers.
The palace library was quiet when I slipped inside.
Dust motes swirled through the slanted light, and the scent of leather and parchment wrapped around me like a cocoon.
My pulse slowed as I trailed my fingers along the shelves.
Books always had been my safe place, and now. .. maybe they could be more.
I didn't know what I was looking for, only that I'd know it when I saw it.
Halfway down the row, I stopped.
An old tome bound in midnight-blue leather practically hummed beneath my touch. Its title was faint but legible: "The Bonds Between Realms."
Heart quickening, I carried it to the long table and carefully opened it. The pages were brittle, the ink fading with age. I skimmed until my eyes caught on a passage written in sharper, darker script — as if the writer had pressed harder when recording it.
There are rare souls who tether two worlds together.
Chosen not by chance, but by fate.
When one such soul encounters a Keeper of Death, their bond is not of blood nor vow, but of essence.
These souls are bridges — fragile yet unbreakable.
The Keeper cannot sever them without losing a part of himself.
And should the bridge be destroyed, the balance of realms will tremble.
My chest tightened. A bridge? Was that... me?
I read it again, slower, my hands trembling as though the ink itself knew my name.
The sound of pages turning, the scratch of my breath, the glow of light through the high windows — I was so absorbed that I didn't hear him until the air shifted.
Shadows stirred at the edge of my vision.
I looked up, startled, to find Hades standing in the archway. His eyes weren't on the book. They were on me.
For a long moment, he didn't move closer. Just watched. His gaze was not the cold, assessing look I had grown used to. It was softer, heavier, like he was memorizing me.
Heat rose in my cheeks. I shut the book halfway. "I didn't hear you come in."
He stepped forward, each movement deliberate, shadows curling faintly at his heels. "You were... occupied."
Something in the way he said it made my breath catch.
His eyes flicked to the tome, then back to me. "That is not a book mortals often find."
I swallowed, fingers brushing the embossed cover. "And yet it was waiting on the shelf."
His expression was unreadable, but his voice dropped — low, quiet, like a secret meant for only us.
"Perhaps it was waiting for you."