Chapter 5 #3
He spun toward the door just as it cracked open, Cassie starting to slip inside. The Book bellowed.
Instinct, protective, possessiveness roared through him. Trik thrust out his hand and a wall of shimmering force slammed into Cassie, sending her stumbling back into the hall as the doors snapped shut with explosive finality.
“NO!” Her voice cracked on the other side. “Trik!”
The echo of her hurt tore through him, but the surge of darkness recoiling from her presence was worse. He pressed both palms to the door, shaking.
Myrin cursed softly. “Trik, you should open it. Let her—”
“No.” Trik cut him off, his voice was raw. “The shadow in the Book reacted to her. To her magic. I won’t risk it touching her.”
“She is your Chosen,” Myrin said sharply. “Her presence steadies what you fear.”
“Or it destroys her,” Trik snapped. “I won’t gamble with her life. I will not lose her!”
Myrin’s stare was unforgiving. “You already are.”
Those words hit harder than the Book’s magic.
In the hall, Cassie’s voice rose again, angry, wounded, desperate, and Trik shut his eyes, jaw trembling. “I can’t,” he whispered.
Myrin’s expression softened with deep, elder sorrow. “Then you may lose her anyway.”
His bond to Cassie trembled, then shuttered closed, leaving Trik hollow. The silence after Cassie’s voice faded was worse than her shouting. Much worse. It pressed into Trik’s ribs, sharp and insistent, like something cracking from the inside.
Myrin stood beside him, gaze fixed on the doors Cassie had been thrown from. “She shouldn’t be out there alone,” Myrin murmured.
“She’s safer out there than in here,” Trik said, breathing unsteady. “The Book, it reacted as if she were a threat.”
“Or as if she were the answer.”
Trik spun on him. “What does that mean?”
But the elder didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he walked, slowly, to the Book’s edge. His fingertips hovered over the page without touching.
“The Chamber of Dark and Light,” Myrin said quietly. “You remember, yes?”
Trik swallowed. His pulse thudded too fast. “Fragments.”
“Fragments become a full picture,” Myrin murmured. “Let them return.”
He didn’t want to. Damn, he didn’t want to. But the memories came anyway, ripping through barriers that had kept them dormant for centuries.
A cavern of impossible brilliance. A void of living shadow.
Magic writhed between them, devouring everything in its path.
The ancient war, light elves and dark elves tearing the realm apart.
Screams. Blood. A child sobbing. Warriors burned to bone.
And at the center, a rift. A womb of magic that birthed something new, something neither side meant to create.
“The shadow elves,” Trik whispered, the words torn from his throat. “Children born from the war’s residue—born from the clashing of a light warrior with a dark warrior.”
Myrin nodded. “Not created by intention. Created by imbalance. Dark and light clashed in a resounding battle, and the shadow elves were its echo. They hid in a large opening in a mountainside, unsure of what would happen to them. Unsure of what their own powers were. But the Chamber they lived in took on a life of its own because of the shadow elves.”
Trik stared at the Book, the dark in its glow twisting in slow, hungry shapes. “We sealed it. You, me, the elders . . . We sealed it because the Chamber began pulling at the realm, at us.”
“And because if it stayed open,” Myrin added softly, “the shadows would have consumed everything.”
Trik squeezed his eyes shut as another shard of memory jabbed behind them—him standing at the edge of a vortex of light and shadow, the elders chanting the Seal, magic ripping through his body.
“I remember . . .” He swallowed hard. “I remember screaming.”
Myrin’s jaw tightened. “You bore the brunt of the Seal. It was your magic, light and dark both, that closed it. And I believe it was then that some of those shadows were attached to you.”
Trik opened his eyes slowly, his heart pounding harder with each word. He didn’t acknowledge that last statement. Not yet. “We sealed it so no one could access the Chamber again and release the shadow elves.”
“Yes,” Myrin said grimly. “But closing the shadow elves inside didn’t kill them. They slept, causing the power of the Chamber to sleep. And now—”
“It’s waking.” Trik finished, voice raw.
A pain flared through his chest so sharp he stumbled. He gripped the table with both hands, cursing under his breath.
Myrin’s head snapped toward him. “The bond.”
Trik tried to speak, but his breath was gone. The ache burst outward, agony sweeping from his sternum to his spine, down his ribs, into his very blood. The mate-bond’s pain. Cassie.
She wasn’t far, but she was hurting. She was furious. And she was shutting him out.
Trik gasped, choking on air that wasn’t enough. “She’s tightened down the bond.”
“Because you slammed a door in her face,” Myrin said sharply. “Trik, you must go to her. Now.”
“I can’t.” Trik forced the words out between clenched teeth. “If the Book sensed her, if the shadow magic inside it is connected to the Chamber, if it touches her—” His voice broke.
“She is everything,” he whispered. “I will not risk her.” It was like those words had become a mantra to him.
Myrin stepped closer, eyes glowing with old power. “Listen to me. Chosen do not survive separation. Not if you two continue like this. You know what extended distance does.”
Trik did. He felt it now, every heartbeat burning, every breath scraping. The ache was only the beginning.
“She needs you,” Myrin said. “And you need her, Trik. You always have.”
Trik squeezed his eyes shut again, sweat beading at his temples. He felt Cassie’s pain like knives beneath his ribs. Felt her walking away. Felt her fury rise in a storm strong enough to bring down the walls of this very castle.
“Go to her.”
“I can’t,” Trik whispered again. “Not until I understand what the Book wants. Not until I know she won’t be—” He couldn’t finish the sentence.
Myrin exhaled slowly, as if exhausted by him. “You are making the same mistake so many males make. The darkness in you is not what will destroy her, Triktapic. The distance will.”
Trik’s hands trembled on the table. The Book’s pages pulsed again, hard enough that the air rippled.
Myrin’s expression darkened. “The Chamber of Dark and Light is calling to you.”
Trik’s breath locked.
“And Cassie heard its name,” Myrin added. “Do not think she didn’t. You may have shoved her out, but she was listening.”
Trik swore violently under his breath, guilt twisting like a blade.
Myrin’s voice softened. “If she goes seeking answers on her own . . . the Chamber will sense her. And that, Trik . . . that would be dangerous for you both.”
“She wouldn’t do that,” Trik said, not sure if he was trying to convince himself or the elder of it. “Cassie knows I’m just trying to protect her. She's many things, but foolish isn’t one of them.”
“And I’m sure you’ve never heard the saying ‘we are all fools in love.’”
Trik wanted to hiss at his long-time friend, “Are you seriously getting philosophical on me?”
Myrin shrugged. “Desperate times call for painful truths.”
“Tell me what you really think,” Trik snapped as he whirled around to stare at the damn book that he was ready to burn.
“I think you’re an idiot and you need to fix the rift between you and your Chosen. Only then will you be able to face what is coming.”
“It was a rhetorical question.” Trik heard movement behind him and then a sigh. He turned to look at the elder. “What are you doing?”
“Getting comfortable,” Myrin said as he adjusted his robes around the chair he just sat in. “I have a feeling things are about to get even more interesting than a glowing book and whispering trees.”
* * *
Cassie didn’t realize she was shaking until the cool air in the corridor kissed her skin. She braced one hand against the stone wall, breath hitching, half fury, half pain, all tangled and sharp inside her chest.
Trik had thrown her out.
Not physically, no. He would never lay a hand on her. But he’d used his power on her.
The memory of it still vibrated beneath her skin: the invisible force slamming into her, the doors sealing shut like she was the threat. Like the danger was her. Her heart clenched hard enough to blur her vision.
He hadn’t meant to hurt her. She knew that. But intention didn’t erase the ache crawling through the bond, pounding against her ribs in waves. She felt him now, felt Trik’s pain like a drumbeat beating against her spine. Not just anger. Fear. Shame. Hurt.
And still . . . he wasn’t calling for her.
Cassie pressed her fist to her mouth and swallowed a broken sound. “Okay,” she whispered. “Okay, no. We’re not doing this. We are not falling apart in the hallway.”
She pushed off the wall and walked, quick, stiff steps down the corridor and into the moonlit courtyard. The world felt tilted, off-balance. Even the magic in the air hummed differently, like it was listening to her heartbeat and trying to match it.
She found Elora near the rose hedges, pacing like she was trying to outrun her own shadows. Sweat slicked her temple; her braid was coming undone. She looked like she’d been punching things all evening.
“Elora.”
Elora spun, eyes flashing. “Remember how we always told each other that if ever one of us needed to bury a body, there would be no questions asked? We’d just get a shovel, grab a couple of bottles of water–because digging graves has got to be thirst inducing–and open up the trunk for transport of said carcass. Remember that?”
Cassie tried to laugh. It came out wrong.
Elora’s expression shifted instantly. “Cass, what happened? Is there actually a body? Because I was being facetious, in a mostly not serious, but sort of serious fashion. But, if there’s really a body, I’ll bury it for you.”
Cassie opened her mouth, but the words tangled, knotted, burned. Anger and humiliation surged, tight and hot behind her ribs.