28. TWENTY EIGHT
TWENTY EIGHT
STERNLIT HALLE
A s I approached the Manor, I forced myself to look at Seraphina, her aged face exuding tragic beauty. She looked like a princess locked in a tower, waiting for a prince who would never come. But maybe she was. That didn’t make her innocent.
Her eyes followed me with a sadness I didn’t trust and a weariness I didn’t care for. I had heard her voice with Fionn days ago, whispering to him about the Seance and how they’d used it to hunt me down and track me like prey.
“Come with me to the Sternlit Halle,” she said, turning toward the manor.
The awkwardness between us was palpable. Donte and her betrayal hung between us like a curse. I couldn’t help wondering what she thought when he was sent to seduce me. Had she cared and agreed to it? Of course she did. It was probably her idea.
Maybe they deserved each other, the deceitful witch and the man from the stars who played along. I watched her walk, and I didn't trust her, not one bit. She moved with a grace that was too perfect, like she would glide over anyone who got in her way and destroy them without a second thought.
Was she so desperate to reclaim her youth that she’d offer up the man she loved like a bargaining chip?
This just showed how sick they were and how low they would go for the Prophecy of Vareth. I couldn’t understand it. I would never forget how they’d lied to me and manipulated me with Donte, that is just a different level of messed up.
And now she wanted me to follow her into the Sternlit Halle. I couldn't stop the paranoia rising.
A darker thought came to me. There were ornaments on the side tables, heavy enough to break bones. I could grab one. I could strike first, like I had done before, with Torin, when he tried to get too close.
She wouldn’t expect it. Except… she would.
Seraphina always expected everything. She’d probably already calculated how fast I could move and how quickly she could react.
That was what made her so dangerous. And the worst part?
The thought of hurting her didn’t horrify me. When had I started thinking like this?
My anxiety was rising. Breathe, I told myself, even as my fingers twitched with the urge to arm myself. I followed Seraphina’s lilac form through the west wing corridor, I felt my pulse quicken as a cold draft slid across the back of my neck, I looked around, there was no window open.
For the first time, after hearing her speak earlier, I finally understood their plan and their willingness to sacrifice anyone, even themselves to save themselves from what?
I followed Seraphina down the corridor, past the Ecliptuari that lined the walls in both directions. They didn’t flinch. They stood like mannequins. I ignored their freakish, unblinking stares as I stepped into the magnificent Sternlit Halle.
** *
When the door closed behind me, I felt a sense of finality, as though I’d left part of my previous self-outside.
The air vibrated with a tension that crawled under my skin.
All three brothers were there, their presence made the large room feel small and suffocating.
The sight of them together in one place made my stomach clench, not out of fear but from a curiosity mingled with unease at their combined presence.
So here we were. Three brothers. Three different kinds of danger.
Despite my initial hesitation, I couldn't resist looking at the portraits. The sunlight flooding the room seems to cast them in ethereal light. But I realised that regardless of the time of day, sunlight never failed to illuminate each room.
Torin had claimed his spot near the grand gilded mirror, his reflection holding his attention more than the room itself. He ran a hand lazily through his copper hair, the movement casual, but his smirk was sharp and cunning.
His eyes caught mine, and his grin widened.
“Careful, Tilly,” he said lazily. “If you stare any harder, my brothers might start to think I’m your favourite.” he uttered, his voice dripping with mockery.
I swallowed back a sharp laugh, biting the inside of my cheek to keep my composure
Torin wasn’t someone you wanted to humour, not unless you wanted to feed the fire of his ego. Instead, I tore my gaze away from him.
My eyes landed on Fionn, standing in the corner like he didn’t want to be here.
His arms were crossed, his jaw clenched, and his blue eyes were fixed on the floor.
He didn’t acknowledge me, his stillness a stark contrast to Torin’s arrogant theatrics.
He was the quiet calculating force in the room that both intrigued and unsettled me.
Cillian sat casually in the velvet armchair, his shirt buttons undone resembling a king comfortably settled in his court.
His gaze followed me with an intensity that felt like sunlight piercing through a magnifying glass.
A soft, disarming smile curled on his lips, the kind designed to make you forget the cracks beneath the surface.
My stomach tightened at the memory of the last time I had seen him, he was perched beside me on my bed, his voice low and gentle, his body close to mine.
I had tried to pretend it hadn’t affected me, but the memory struck me now with humiliating clarity, the way I had almost leaned into him, the way I wanted him to lean into me and make me feel safe.
I hated that part of me that longed to feel that way again.
Cillian leaned forward slightly in his chair.
“Are you all right, Tilly?” he asked, his tone warm and concerned but was it a calculated kindness that was fooling me.
Torin huffed a quiet laugh from across the room.
“How touching.” He said. I ignored his words. My attention was on Cillian. How could he appear so genuine in the chaos of this house, under the curse that bound us all? Was it a role he played as easily as breathing.
Where had he been over the past few days?
Why had he ignored me and why did it matter to me at all?
Why did I care how he sounded or whether he meant it?
I shouldn’t. Not when I didn’t know which version of him I was looking at.
The gentle one from my bedside or the one related to this dark bloodline?
It had been days since I’d last seen him, days of silence, of absence, of wondering whether he stayed away because of how close we got, or because he wanted me to feel the distance after the rejection .
And Gods, it worked. His absence caused curiosity within me that I hated acknowledging. But maybe that was something I could use. Maybe I needed him to feel the absence from me too.
“I’m fine, Cillian,” I replied, injecting a strength into my voice. “Thanks for asking.”
I needed him on my side. I needed him to want me alive. And if that meant playing the part he expected, soft, grateful, reachable, then so be it. Survival wasn’t about honesty anymore. It was about choosing wisely.
My paranoia whispered in my ear:
The voice rose from the depth of my mind. “ He’s pretending. They’re all pretending. You’re the prize in their sick game, and they’ll do whatever it takes to win.”
His green eyes, once warm, now burned with an intensity that made my stomach tighten. He watched me as though I were prey he needed to guard fiercely.
“Sit down, here next to me, Tilly,” he said, his tone low and commanding. “You’re exhausting yourself.”
Across the room, Fionn leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his jaw tight.
“She doesn’t need you hovering over her like a damned shadow, Cillian. Let her breathe.”
"Oh, and you’d know what she needs?" Cillian shot back, his voice was calm and cutting. "You’re too busy sulking in a corner to notice anyone else."
“They aren’t arguing because they like you. They don’t like you. They only wish to use you.”
“Enough!” my voice rose, startling them both. Did I just shout that out loud. My heart raced, but I forced myself to stand tall, meeting their stares with as much bravo as I could muster. Their attention snapped to me, and for a moment, I saw genuine surprise.
Torin’s grin faded slightly .
Cillian leaned back in his chair.
Fionn’s expression, he didn’t smile or move. But his attention locked onto me fully for the first time since I entered the room.
Seraphina stepped forward, her commanding presence pulling the room’s attention. She was the only one who wasn’t watching with curiosity or calculation. Instead, she was studying me, picking me apart with her faultless gaze.
“We brought you here today for a reason,” she said, her tone smooth, yet commanding. “You need to understand what’s happening to you. You need to meet the Elorium.”
“They’re tricking you. Don’t do it. Don’t fall into their trap. They wish to break you.”
Torin, lounging near the window, let out a low chuckle. "She’s got more fight in her than I gave her credit for," he muttered, though whether it was an insult or a compliment, I couldn’t tell. I turned to him, my mind racing.
“They’re all cracking, all unravelling.”
The realization struck me with chilling clarity. The curse was working through them, manipulating their emotions, driving wedges between them.
But how could I trust any of them? Cillian’s possessiveness, Fionn’s rage, Torin’s spite—they were all dangerous and Seraphina… her calm reassurances felt more like manipulations every day.
Don’t trust them.
They’ll use you.
Twist you.
You’re nothing but a pawn in their game.
Thay are monsters.
"Stop!" I muttered, trying to silence them, but the voices only grew louder.
They’ll destroy you.
Do you really think you can play this game and win?
Run! Run before it’s too late.
“Did you say something, Tilly?” Torin asked, his smirk fading slightly as he leaned forward. “Or did I imagine it?”