Chapter 24
Elaris lifts her hand, beckoning us behind the waterfall. The spray slicks our skin, the roar of falling water thundering like a heartbeat. Beyond, a dark cave mouth leading into the mountain waits, rimmed with moss and stone.
“The magic here is ancient,” she says, voice carrying easily over the din. “None may enter without paying its price. It will decide if you are worthy.”
I swallow hard, nerves tightening my chest. What if I am found lacking? At the threshold, Elaris gestures toward Lowan’s dagger. “Blood.”
His jaw tenses, but he does not hesitate. He slices the blade across his palm and presses his hand to the rock. A rune in the stone glows faintly, then swallows his mark as if drinking it down.
Elaris exhales, lids fluttering closed. “Welcome, Lowan Veynar. I have much to tell you.” She steps aside.
One by one, the others follow—Selene, Zillah, Remli. Each leaves a smear of blood; each is accepted. The stone glimmers, fades. Elaris names them all as if she had known them all along. Then I step forward. Elaris’s eyes sharpen, intent, almost hungry. She does not blink.
I lift the dagger, refusing to look away.
The cut stings brightly. I slap my palm against the rock.
The cave shudders. Whispers surge through my mind—Threads of the tapestry, old voices, secrets clawing at my magic.
The pull is fierce, ancient, almost tearing.
My knees nearly give, but I hold my ground.
Elaris’s lips curve into a dark smile. “And finally… Metra Donovan. How I’ve longed for your arrival. Welcome.” I draw a sharp breath, then step into the cave.
The passage is narrow and dark, damp stone pressing in on every side. My steps echo hollow, and unease coils in my gut. Have we made a mistake in coming here? A faint shimmer lights around us as Zillah locks her shield in place.
Elaris chuckles softly. “No need for that here, Zillah Veynar. I have no intention of doing harm.”
Lowan’s hand brushes mine, then laces tightly with my fingers.
The warmth steadies me in the dark. Within moments, the tunnel widens, and I stumble into a space I could never have imagined.
The cavern opens into a vast, warm, inviting chamber.
Woven rugs soften the rocky floor, and glowing orbs dangle from the ceiling, spilling light across piles of poufs and cushions.
Openings stretch off into the shadows, promising more rooms hidden beyond.
Elaris gestures for us to sit. We ease down onto the pillows and poufs.
Remli flops onto one with a grunt, only to sink so far into it that her legs fly upward.
A laugh bursts out of me before I can stop it.
Remli shoots me a glare sharp enough to cut stone.
I clap a hand over my mouth, but it’s too late.
Elaris lowers herself gracefully onto a cushion, moving far more easily than someone her age should. Her skin is etched with lines, her hair silver-white, her body frail. She looks to be in her nineties—yet I know she must be so much older.
Without a word, she reaches for the copper tea service on the tray in front of her and pours herself a steaming cup. It was waiting there, ready, as though she knew we’d arrive.
“I knew you’d arrive,” she says, her voice matter-of-fact, as though she plucked the thought straight from my head. “I’ve made accommodations, as you’ll be with me for a while.”
Her hand drifts toward the dark archway beyond. “The caves are notorious for carrying sound. Please remember to set a barrier around your rooms before you enjoy each other’s company.”
Her gaze flicks to me, then to Lowan, then to Zillah and Selene. Zillah smirks. I squirm under the weight of it, cheeks heating as though a grandmother has just scolded me.
Elaris pours each of us a cup of tea, the scent of herbs strong and heady.
I lift the cup, but even before I sip, the heat that had been dragging me down is gone, replaced by a chill I can’t explain.
I glance at Lowan. His knuckles are white around his cup, and the unease in his eyes mirrors my own.
“Drink,” Elaris states, “and let the magic heal those impressive wounds you gave yourselves. A drop from your fingertip would have sufficed.” She chuckles to herself while Lowan glares.
The air in the cave hums with an energy I can’t name, something that prickles along my skin and makes the hairs at my neck stand on end.
Elaris stirs her tea slowly and studies us, one by one.
“You should know,” she says softly, “the magic here requires worthiness. The cave itself admitted you. That is no small thing. But admittance is not the same as answers. For me to speak, for you to hear, there must be honesty. Openness. An unguarded heart.”
Her gaze sharpens. “Secrets are a poison to this place. If you want truth from me, you must first speak truth yourselves.”
A heavy silence falls. None of us wants to be the first to break it.
My throat closes. I think of the dungeon, the iron shackles biting my wrists, the runes etched into the metal.
And I hear myself saying, “There was a moment when I looked down at the cuffs binding me in that dungeon, and I recognized the patterns. They weren’t random.
They were the same as the mark I have hidden in my hair. ”
I push my curls forward, fingers brushing the spot at the nape of my neck.
“It’s a tattoo. My mother gave it to me.
I was angry when she tried to explain it to me.
I thought it was a strange piece of her eccentricity.
But in that cell, I understood. It was a binding.
A way to hold back power.” Elaris leans forward, her eyes bright.
“I realized that my mother had the same mark,” I continue, my voice shaking.
“Which means she had power too—Bound, like mine. I was always bitter toward her—angry at the secrecy, the moving around, the feeling that she kept me from knowing who I was. But now… I can’t stop wondering if, that night, she was finally ready to tell me everything.
And I was ripped away before she could.”
I swallow hard. “I don’t know if she’s still trapped in the mortal realm. Is that why everyone thinks she is dead? I don’t know, is her power still bound? I have many questions, but for the first time, I can see her differently. Not secretive. Not cruel. Merely waiting for the moment I was ready.”
The silence that follows is deep, thrumming with magic.
And for the first time, I feel like I’ve spoken something that the cave itself was waiting to hear.
My heart is still hammering from saying it out loud, from admitting how bitter I was toward her, but Elaris’s eyes glimmer with something like recognition.
“So that’s how you’ve been hidden all this time. ”
I blink. “What do you mean?”
Her voice lowers, reverent and sorrowful all at once. “We knew Elin had fled. We knew she had opened a portal. But when she never returned, and her power was never felt again, we feared the worst.”
The cave seems to hum with her words, pressing them into me. Hidden. Bound. My pulse skitters as it all collides in my mind. “She was hiding us,” I whisper. The truth is so clear now I can hardly breathe. “She bound her own power. She bound mine. To keep us from being found.”
Elaris smiles, calm and unshaken, then looks to Lowan and Zillah. “Before I hear your truths, you should know that I knew your father, Tobias.” Both of them go still, glancing at one another.
“I trained him,” Elaris continues, “many years ago, to use his ability.”
Lowan frowns, his head tilting. “Explain.”
Elaris nods knowingly, as though she expected that. “Of course. Forgotten. Forgotten so much—thanks to the Illusion.”
We all look at each other, startled, uneasy. Illusion?
“The Illusion holds sway over many,” Elaris says, her voice grave. “But not over me, nor your father. He had the Sight, as I do. And the truth could not be hidden from us.”
I glance toward Lowan. His brows knit, confusion shadowing his face—but then I see it. A flicker of recognition, clearing like fog burned away by sunlight.
“That’s right.” He exhales through his nose. “I had forgotten. How is that possible?”
“Because of an Illusion,” Elaris answers. “An old magic, sometimes woven with malice. One was crafted to make this realm forget the truth.”
Zillah leans forward, desperation breaking through her calm. “But what did our father have to do with that?”
Selene lays a gentle hand on Zillah’s knee, steadying her, and Elaris exhales as though she is about to unspool an ancient thread.
“Let me start there—with Tobias Veynar. A truth for a truth.” She tilts her head in my direction.
“He worked closely at one time with the royal family. The Queen often called on him to read the Threads, to share his Sight. And then one day, he walked away. He didn’t return.
He spent his days on the far side of the Knollwood, tending his people there.
” The room seems to hold its breath. The orbs overhead flicker like candle flames, throwing long shadows across the rugs and stone.
“Tobias knew he was in danger. He had seen it,” Elaris says.
“So he cast his own Illusion—on his family, on those closest to him. He made you all forget his ability. He knew the Queen’s guard would come, and he was right.
There was a child. A baby was born to Queen Calidora.
But the Queen needed a girl, another Donovan, not a boy.
She ordered her guard to kill the boy. Yet Tambrose faltered, struck by weakness for the child.
He sought out Tobias and begged for help.
And Tobias took the child. Hid him in a safe home, far from court. ”
Her voice drops, sorrow laced in every word. “After he returned, Tambrose came calling. He stabbed Tobias in the back and killed him. But the secret was still not safe. Not then, not ever.” She looks to Lowan, eyes sharp as a blade.
Lowan’s lips part, trembling. “All this time…”