Chapter 32
The door creaked open, revealing a young woman with short blonde hair that stuck up on one side, as if she’d just woken up. Her steel-blue eyes flicked over Elara and the Hunter in one quick glance. Barefoot, her toes curled against the cracked wooden floor as she gave him a questioning look.
The Hunter crossed his arms. “I need a favor, Sybil.”
The girl—Sybil—didn’t hesitate. She moved to slam the door, but the Hunter's boot had already wedged in the gap, stopping it cold. Elara shot him a look, one brow lifting. His jaw tightened in response.
“You really do have a knack for showing up when you’re least wanted,” Sybil muttered, glaring at him.
“Charming as ever,” the Hunter shot back, a slow smile curling his lips. “I’d hate to think you’ve gotten too fond of the quiet life.”
Sybil's gaze flicked to Elara—curious, wary—before settling back on him. "The last time you needed a favor, I nearly lost my life, my home, and my sanity."
He leaned against the doorframe, completely unfazed. “And yet, here you are. Still standing. Stronger. Wiser. Really, you should be thanking me.”
Sybil snorted but finally swung the door wide, allowing them in. “I’ll be sure to send you a thank-you note when I’m buried under the rubble of your next disaster.”
Elara slipped past the Hunter, eyes immediately drawn to the cramped hallway cluttered with odd trinkets, dusty books stacked haphazardly to the ceiling. The place reeked of ether—old, layered ether, the kind that settled into the very walls.
Sybil shut the door with a click before her eyes slid over to Elara, sizing her up like she was something to be toyed with. "And who’s the little stray you’ve picked up this time?"
Before he could answer, Elara straightened her spine, and forced the words out, refusing to let her nerve falter. "I’m Elara. And I wasn’t aware we were handing out pet names already. Should I come up with one for you?"
Sybil’s smirk deepened, her eyes flickering with amusement. "Well, aren’t you a little firecracker?"
Elara’s glare hardened as the Hunter’s mouth twitched.
“She’s tougher than she looks.”
Sybil glanced between them, eyes narrowing slightly before she nodded. “Good. You’ll need to be if you want to keep up with that one. His idea of help usually ends with half a city burning or a knife at someone’s throat—most of the time, mine.”
“And yet,” he replied, stepping down the hallway, “you always let me in.”
"Call it morbid curiosity," Sybil sighed, leading him past a maze of piled books. "I keep hoping natural selection will catch up with you."
His smile widened. “Always knew you cared.”
Elara's hand darted out before she could stop herself, fingers gripping his arm—a solid band of muscle that tensed instantly under her touch.
Heat flushed her cheeks as she released him just as quickly, the brief contact leaving a tingling imprint on her skin as she leaned in. “This is your friend?”
The Hunter’s eyes closed for a beat—just as Sybil started cackling. “Is that what he told you?” She stopped and crossed her arms, facing him head-on. “Embarrassed of me, cousin?”
Cousin?
“Sib—” he started, but she waved a hand dismissively.
“Forget it,” she muttered, rolling her eyes again. “I don’t care either way.”
Sybil turned the corner and disappeared, leaving Elara standing there, awkward and out of place. The Hunter sighed, rubbing the back of his neck before trailing after her.
Elara shifted on her feet, her skin prickling. She didn’t know where to look, what to do with her hands. It felt like she was intruding, witnessing something she had no right to see. But what else was there to do?
She followed, her steps slow as she took in the narrow hallway that opened into a cramped cottage.
The walls were a patchwork of peeling plaster and splintered beams, some barely holding on as if a strong gust could send the whole place collapsing.
Sybil and the Hunter’s voices drifted back, their bickering a constant hum in the background.
Elara still couldn’t wrap her head around it—the Hunter like this. The man she’d seen in the alley, who cut soldiers down without a second thought, without hesitation… that was the man she knew. Cold. Calculated. Deadly. Not this… almost normal, interaction with a... cousin.
Her fingers twitched at her sides, restless. The entire dynamic left her feeling off balance, like she’d missed a step, and now she was waiting for the fall.
Sybil led them into a crowded living room that was barely that—a space swallowed by shelves crammed with jars of strange ingredients: dried herbs, twisted roots, and bones that seemed far too large to be human.
Broken furniture was shoved into the corners, abandoned and forgotten.
The massive wooden table in the center dominated the room, covered in scattered vials and instruments, more a makeshift lab than a living space.
“Sit,” Sybil commanded, waving lazily toward the two stools at the table. Elara hesitated, her gaze flicking to the Hunter. He gave a slight nod, and she followed his lead, perching on the edge of the stool.
Sybil leaned back, crossing her arms. “So, what kind of calamity are you dumping on me this time?”
The Hunter scratched at his neck almost absently. “The kind that needs your… unique expertise.”
Sybil let out a long, weary sigh. “Of course it does.” She tilted her head, studying him for a moment before gesturing for more. “Elaborate.”
"I need you to test us for a Draoth Cara."
Elara froze. That word... she knew it. Draoth. He had whispered it to her once... in a dream. She blinked up at him, confusion knitting her brow. “What’s a Draoth Cara?”
Sybil’s gaze swung toward her, brows raised. "You don’t know?" She looked back at the Hunter, her eyes narrowing. "You haven’t told her."
The Hunter’s expression darkened. He tapped his foot on the ground. "I was getting to it."
"When?" Sybil challenged. "Before or after you put her through the test?"
He sighed, dragging a hand down his face before turning to Elara. “What we’ve been… experiencing, it isn’t normal.”
Elara rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I figured. I’m well aware it’s not every day someone gets a bind with three seals slapped on them.”
Sybil’s eyes widened, her expression one of pure disbelief. “Rhiannon’s fucking tits, you did what now?”
The Hunter focused on Elara. “It’s not the bind,” he said, voice quiet. “But I think it’s why the seal I was supposed to place on you didn’t work.”
Sybil’s eyes gleamed, interest sparking as she glanced between them.
“Oh, this just keeps getting juicier.” She ignored the Hunter’s glare and turned to Elara.
“Draoth Cara is an anomaly with casters. Normally, one bonds with earth, another with fire—simple, right? But sometimes, for reasons we don’t fully get, their powers connect.
They start feeling each other’s heartbeats, emotions, even sensations.
A touch on your skin feels like it’s happening to both of you.
” She paused, eyes cutting back to the Hunter, daring him. “Go on. Try it.”
The Hunter’s entire body went rigid, his eyes narrowing to slits. “That’s not necessary—”
Elara pressed her finger deliberately against a piece of splintered wood she had been playing with the entire time to calm her nerves, feeling the sudden bite as it cut into her skin. Blood welled up almost instantly.
The Hunter sucked in a breath, his right hand—the same side as hers—suddenly clenching against the table.
“You felt that—”
The words had barely left her lips when Sybil’s hand shot out and closed around her wrist, the speed stealing Elara’s breath. With a sharp yank, Sybil pulled her forward, vials clinking across the table.
The Hunter was there in the next instant—too fast to follow. His hand clamped over Sybil’s, the force making her grip falter.
“Release the Hallowed,” he said, his voice low and cold as ice. “Now.”
The air felt ready to shatter, pressure drawn so tight it might snap with a single breath. They stood frozen, breaths shallow, the room deadly still save for blood dripping from Elara’s finger down her palm.
“It’s just a drop.”
Sybil’s voice was low, almost a murmur, but her blue eyes… they darkened, shifting to black like a cloud swallowing the sky. Elara jerked her wrist, trying to pull away, but Sybil’s hand didn’t budge.
"Sybil!" The Hunter barked her name and his cousin’s gaze shifted, locking onto him as if sensing something beyond the present, beyond them. “I see it. The hunger. The need. You’ve been carrying it, hiding it, but it’s there, waiting.
You want that drop, Hunter. So badly. I can feel it—the pull, the craving to make it right.
Why fight it when it’s right in front of you?
Take it. A single drop, and all is undone. ”
Elara’s pulse spiked as she looked between them. Sybil wasn’t Sybil anymore. The snarky, playful girl had vanished, replaced by something… darker. Consumed. Something that made the hairs on the back of Elara’s neck rise.
“And you,” Sybil said, turning to Elara. “Your past will return, but not in the way you expect. What was once a memory will walk again, flesh and bone, and you will have to face it." Then Sybil smiled—a feral, twisted thing—and it seemed to snap the Hunter out of whatever spell he’d been under.
“Let go, Syb,” he growled.
The girl blinked, and the darkness in her eyes faded, returning to their familiar icy blue.
She looked down at their entwined hands, almost as if seeing the blood for the first time, her lips parting in confusion.
Quickly, she released Elara’s wrist and stepped back.
Her face was unreadable. She crossed to the hearth and set a kettle over the flames with a clang, her movements quick and jerky.
“Tea, anyone?”
Is she serious?
Elara grimaced, wiped the blood on her cloak, then shoved her finger into her mouth, coppery and sharp. Her gaze snapped to the Hunter, wide with disbelief.
"Sybil."