Chapter 8
Elariya
“Where Time Fractures”
Idrifted through an endless expanse of gray. Neither light nor dark but something caught between worlds, suspended in the liminal space where reality frayed at its edges.
My feet touched nothing solid, yet I moved forward with purpose, pulled by invisible currents that whispered secrets I couldn't quite grasp. The air was thick as honey, viscous and oppressive, clinging to my skin with phantom fingers that traced patterns I didn't recognize.
Each step forward—if they could be called steps at all—felt both weightless and heavy, as though I was moving through a liquid dream.
Dream?
No. This wasn’t a dream.
I was here again.
At that… place of grayness that stretched infinitely in all directions, a colorless void that seemed to pulse with its own heartbeat. Or perhaps that was mine, echoing strangely in this place where sound had no meaning.
Something lurked at the edges of my consciousness, a presence that watched from the void with ageless patience.
I could feel its attention like a cold breath on the back of my neck, calculating and hungry.
It didn't move closer, didn't reveal itself.
It just observed with the stillness of a predator that knew its prey had nowhere to run.
It was the sensation of being studied, dissected by unseen eyes. My skin crawled like a million spiders marched beneath the surface.
Then the pull grew stronger.
The pang in my heart flared, and the tingling in my wrist spiked and spread through my body.
“Ziyka.”
“Ziyka.”
That name again. That voice. It whispered on the edge of the wind.
And now… I could pick out the faint depth of the voice.
It was a man.
It was him.
Wolfe.
I was sure of it now.
It was him.
I allowed the pull to take me.
“Ziykaaa!”
A swarm of darkness drifted over me, opened its gaping maw of desolation, and dragged me inside.
Pain erupted all over my body, pulling at my soul.
Scritch, scritch, scritch.
It was like fingernails scratching against wood.
Scritch, scritch, scritchhhhh.
I bolted upright, out of sleep, out of… wherever I’d been.
My heart hammered against my ribs, and the phantom taste of ash coated my tongue.
The vision of grayness and darkness clung to my mind, its tendrils wrapping around my consciousness even as I fought to clear it.
For one terrifying moment, I couldn't tell if I was still trapped there, within the gripping claws of darkness. Then the fog cleared as my awareness returned, and I realized I was bathed in daylight. And in a bed chamber. One I didn’t recognize.
I dragged air into my lungs, forcing my racing pulse to slow as reality began to bleed back in and I realized I was safe.
I was safe, but in my sleep, I’d gone to that place again where I’d heard Wolfe calling to me.
A deep breath helped me steady my mind. I remembered Arielle, Bastian, my family, and the golden light that surrounded me as I went to sleep.
Did the spell work?
Was I back in the magical realm?
Or somewhere else.
I looked about me and took in my surroundings.
The bedchamber was grand and beautiful.
Stone walls rose around me, veined with threads of silver that caught the sunlight filtering through tall, arched windows. Tapestries in deep jewel tones hung between carved pillars that spiraled upward like elder trees.
A fire crackled in the hearth, its flames an impossible shade of blue-white that cast no ordinary shadows.
The bed I was in dominated the center of the chamber, its frame carved from what looked like petrified wood, all flowing curves and organic lines.
Gossamer curtains in shades of twilight hung from the canopy, stirring without any breeze I could feel.
A writing desk sat near the windows, its surface inlaid with mother-of-pearl constellations.
The scent of jasmine and magnolia tickled my nose. I turned, following the scent to find a vase of beautiful flowers on the table by the door.
Then I felt it.
Old magic in the air.
I breathed deeper, allowing it to flow into my body and clear my mind.
A rush of energy pulsed through me, and I realized with certainty that the spell had indeed worked.
I was back.
Back in Galaythia.
Back to the place I was going to make my home.
I swiveled around, placing my feet on the floor. They were bare of the shoes I’d been wearing.
My toes sunk into plush carpet as I stood.
I spotted my shoes next to the bed, so I slipped them on and moved across to the window.
As soon as the scenery outside greeted me, descriptions from my journal flowed back to my mind like a wave in the tide, and I knew exactly where I was.
This was Vyrenth Hollow, Wolfe’s estate. And this was my room.
Through the windows, the gardens stretched before me, lush and alive with colors that had no names in the mortal realm.
Trees with bark that shimmered between blue and gold and copper swayed in the breeze, and flowers bloomed in impossible spirals of crimson and electric pink, their petals glowing from within.
In the distance, the forest rose like a wall and the crystalline sea shimmered beneath the mountain ridge, the sun touching the water's surface, painting it with fragments of color.
This was the Fae realm in all its beauty.
A soft smile tugged at the corners of my lips, and warmth spread through my heart.
I leaned forward and gripped at the window pane as I inhaled the air.
For a moment, I got lost in the sensation, and the darker parts of what brought me here drifted to the back of my mind.
But just for a moment.
The tingle in my wrist pulled me back. Then it spread to my heart, faint at first, like the ghost of a pulse that wasn't quite my own.
I pressed my palm against the window glass, watching my breath fog the surface as the sensation in my heart grew stronger, more insistent. It was magnetic, primal, the way iron shavings must feel when drawn to a lodestone.
It wasn’t the shackle. This was a distinct stirring flowing through my core. It reminded me of that pull I felt from Gryffyn Forest. It was stronger here. Perhaps because I was in the magical realm.
I stepped away from the window and moved toward the door.
I opened it and went out into the hallway.
There were marble floors out here. Paintings on the walls on either side and candles floating in chandeliers lining the way.
I took careful steps, each one making my very bones hum with the sensation to keep going. By the time I reached the end of the hallway, every nerve ending in my body was alive with the certainty that something was drawing me forward.
The pull tugged at my ribs, wound itself around my spine, until I could barely breathe past the desperate need to go, to follow whatever invisible thread had wrapped itself around my soul.
My pace quickened. It wasn't a choice anymore. Instinct, raw and undeniable, sang through my blood like a siren's song I couldn't ignore.
I found myself at the base of a spiraling staircase, its steps carved from the same luminous stone as the walls.
I went up, my hand tracing the banister as I climbed. Each step seemed to echo with a resonance that went deeper inside me, a vibration I felt in my bones.
That pull grew stronger with every step I ascended. By the time I reached the upper landing, my breath came in short gasps that had nothing to do with the climb and everything to do with the desperate need clawing at my chest.
A long corridor stretched before me, lined with doors of dark wood, but my focus narrowed to a single point. The door at the very end of the hallway.
My feet carried me forward, past door after door, until I stood trembling before the one that called to me like coming home.
I gasped when the door clicked open and swung wide.
The bed chamber beyond was all dark wood and rich fabrics that spoke of masculine power. A fireplace carved from midnight marble dominated another wall, cold now but bearing the scars of countless fires.
A bed carved from black oak, twisted into spiraling patterns that reminded me of thorns. Deep burgundy curtains hung from the canopy made of heavy velvet that absorbed light rather than reflecting it.
When I stepped inside, the scent of sandalwood and leather hit me, along with something darker. Primal.
Something that made my pulse skip and my skin flush with recognition, even though my mind couldn’t catch up.
That scent wove into every fiber of the air…
And the truth came to me like it had with everything else.
This was his room.
The realization crawled up my spine like ice water, raising every hair on my body until my skin felt too tight and too aware.
The mark burned now as recognition bloomed, pulsing in time with my thundering heartbeat. Knots twisted my stomach, and cold sweat broke across my skin. Yet it almost, eerily, felt natural to be here.
The room seemed to breathe around me, watching, waiting, as if the very walls held memories of what happened within them.
What happened between him and me.
The man I couldn’t remember.
No. Not a man. Wolfe was Fae.
Heir to the throne of Galaythia
I never imagined such a thing when I suspected my family keeping secrets from me. Though, to be fair, they didn’t know about Wolfe.
I drew in a breath and crept inside the chamber, moving over to the table by the window. I picked up a pen holder and admired the intricate designs of symbols.
“It’s nice to see you in here,” came a gentle voice from behind me.
I turned to find Arielle standing in the doorway, a small smile on her mouth, her eyes bright with something like hope.
I straightened and set the pen holder down. “I’m back.”
Arielle stepped closer. “You are.”
“How long have I been here? Feels like I slept for a while.”
“It took us about ten minutes to get back, but you’ve been sleeping for almost a whole day.”
I gasped. “What? I didn’t realize it was that long.”
“Time passes differently here and on the ghost roads. It takes a toll on the body, especially when you’re not used to it.” She watched me carefully. “Do you know where you are?”
“At Vyrenth Hollow.” I let out a slow breath and glanced nervously around the room. “But specifically… this is his room, isn’t it? Wolfe’s.” I said, needing the truth spoken out loud.
“Yes,” Arielle replied, simple and certain.
My gaze flicked to the door, to the corridor beyond it, and then back again, trying to piece together how my feet had carried me here. “How did I find it? Something came over me, a pull of sorts, and I came here.”
Arielle reached for my arm and turned my wrist, lifting my hand so the soul mark on the underside showed. “You’re drawn to him,” she said. “Through the Velastra mark he gave you.”
My stomach tightened, the pull answering her words before I could.
“And I suspect the Seer’s tethering magic is helping too,” she continued, her tone careful. “I’d like to think it’s guiding you back to each other.”
Heat flickered along my nerves at the intimacy threaded through Arielle’s words. She made it sound inevitable, as though this pull between Wolfe and me would draw us together no matter what I did.
I didn’t have the heart to tell her the hollow inside me might stop it.
In fact, I was certain it would.
The pull might be alive inside me, but so was the emptiness—the missing memories that kept me from feeling.
I shoved the thought away. There were more important things to discuss.
“I heard him calling to me, Arielle,” I said quietly.
Arielle went still. Her eyes widened. “You did?”
“Yes.”
“How?” Her voice sharpened with urgency. “Where?”
“In my sleep. It seemed like a dream.” The word felt flimsy the moment it left my mouth. “He called me Ziyka.”
Arielle’s breath caught, like that single detail changed everything. “Blessed Mother.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t a dream,” I added, my skin prickling as the memory surfaced. “Everything was gray, like fog and ash, and it felt like I was being pulled toward him.” I swallowed, forcing myself to keep going. “But then something stopped me. Darkness.”
“Oh, Gods,” Arielle whispered, the words breaking on a breath. “I pray he’s alive. He has to be.”
Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, eyes shining with fear she was trying and failing to hide.
“This is the first sign of anything we’ve had,” she went on, her voice tight. “We’ve been at our wits’ end trying to figure out what happened—beyond the attack. We don’t know anything.”
“My grandmother told me Thayden brought me home.” I held her gaze. “He tracked me to the magical realm and hired Scabbards to get in.” My stomach twisted. “I think he did something to Wolfe.”
Arielle went utterly still, as if my words had struck her across the face. “Are you certain?” she demanded. “Thayden? Your fiancé?”
I nodded. “Whatever magic he took into the realm… it gave him the power to do whatever he did.”
The color drained from her face in a single, brutal sweep. Her breath hitched, and for a heartbeat, she looked genuinely unsteady, like the world had shifted around her.
“It would take great power to go up against someone like Wolfe.” Her words were clipped with a juxtaposition of disbelief and shock. “And to win.”
“Thayden is…” I swallowed hard, his name tasting like poison.
“He’s a man of many tricks. He’s resourceful and ruthless.
A man without honor or heart.” My hand curled into a fist so tight my knuckles ached.
“That’s why I need to get back to Stormfell before he does.
He knows my powers aren’t bound. He saw me use them here, and he’s threatening my family with death if I don’t marry him. ”
Arielle’s eyes sharpened, shock snapping into something colder. “That bastard.”
“I know.” I bit the inside of my lip, an attempt to tamp down my worries. “The moment we’re done here, I have to leave. I can’t give him that kind of power over my family.”
She hesitated, her jaw tightening. “You won’t let him force you into marriage, will you?”
“What choice does that leave me?” I asked. “You know what he can do under the Accord. He won’t hesitate. He’ll slaughter them legally.”
Arielle studied me for a long moment, something fierce and protective flashing in her eyes. Then she nodded, slowly. “Okay… then let’s not waste another minute.” Her voice was lethal. “Let’s go downstairs. Everyone’s waiting for you. We’ll talk and plan.”