Chapter 40 #2
The Hunter tilted his head. “Did the Druids teach you ritualized control?” She nodded and he continued, almost—almost—smiling.
“I thought so, considering how fast you used the Draoth Cara’s link against me.
This is good news. Much of this process is about maintaining control over your own mind.
You’ll need to sink deep into your consciousness and stay anchored there while I work.
The calmer you stay, the easier it will be to sunder the sigil. ”
Her stomach tightened, but she inhaled deeply. “Okay.”
The Hunter extended his hand, and for a moment Elara only stared at it, memories flooding back—how many times she’d slapped it away, shoved him back, resisted. She’d fought him at every turn. She’d even stabbed him once. Bit him, too.
And now…
She took it.
His hand was warm as he led her to an empty spot in the room. They settled to the floor across from each other, knees nearly touching. She felt what was coming settle deep in her bones.
Tristan stepped forward, vial in hand. Elara watched as he poured its contents onto the ground, ash tracing a circle around her and the Hunter—just as Avis had done in the throne room.
When the circle closed, she felt the shift.
She’d read enough to recognize it now: protection.
The ash wasn’t merely a boundary, but a weave of spells—stabilization, balance, containment.
A shield meant to keep the volatile energy they were about to unleash from spiraling out of control.
Elara closed her eyes and let her mind sink inward, following the familiar path she’d walked countless times before. It led her straight to the Hunter’s seal, as though it had been waiting. His heartbeat met her there—slow, steady, a rhythm she matched with her breath.
That was the key. The cadence. The vibration. Not just physical, but resonant—something he could feel, looping between the seal and the power buried deep within her. She focused on each inhale, each exhale, letting the rhythm spread through her body and outward toward him.
Elara felt Tristan settle beside her, just outside the circle of ash.
His presence was grounding in its own way, but then he began chanting, that rough, guttural tongue she’d heard only from the Druids.
Her concentration wavered, trying to grasp the foreign sounds even though she didn’t know their meaning.
There was something wrong about the way those words fell from his lips, something unsettling that made her skin crawl.
But it wasn’t just the words—it was the resonance they left behind, humming through the air and settling deep in her chest. The Hunter’s pulse thudded into her awareness, brushing against her own heartbeat—and then she realized it wasn’t aligned at all.
It was wrong. A dissonant note cutting across an otherwise steady rhythm.
His seal pressed harder now, no longer distant, but insistent, as though burrowing into her.
“Good, Hallowed,” the Hunter said, his voice low and smooth. She didn’t hear it so much as register it, the sound rolling through her like distant thunder.
“Now—hold your breath.”
Elara’s focus slipped. “Hold my brea—”
A rush of ether slipped into her like a wisp of smoke, threading through her veins and sinking deep. Ether had always been an intrusion—painful, invasive, foreign. This was different. It moved slowly, almost gently, as if testing her.
The resistance she expected never came. Instead, curiosity sparked where fear should have been.
His ether wound around her bones, seeped into her marrow, heat trailing in its wake like a hand brushing old scars.
Her muscles tensed, a shudder rippling through her as the warmth spread, building higher and higher until it bordered on too much.
She could feel it—him—moving through her with unhurried intent.
Then he lingered near her heart.
The seal on his chest flared—a faint glow—followed by a sharp sting in her own.
Then it faded, vanishing as though it had never existed.
Elara held her focus as he turned to the remaining seals.
These were different. More stubborn. His had never fully formed after the Draoth Cara’s interference, but Avis’s and Dario’s were solid, complete.
Sweat trickled down her temple. The strain set in almost at once, seconds stretching as her muscles began to protest. Her hands tingled; her legs went numb from holding still.
She ignored it, forced herself to concentrate, to keep her heartbeat steady and aligned with his.
Every inhale. Every exhale. Perfectly matched.
Heat flashed across her chest—then the sting. One seal. Then the other. Gone.
Relief loosened her knees, just enough to feel it. She waited for the surge—for ether, for power—but nothing came.
The Hunter went utterly still. Through their connection, she could almost sense it—his confusion rippling across the link like a flicker of static.
“There’s something else here,” he murmured, and with the softness of a feather brushing against her skin, his ether touched a spot deep inside her—light, so light.
A scream tore from Elara’s throat, ricocheting off the walls.
Fire surged through her veins—searing, all-consuming—obliterating every thought, every sense but one.
Agony.
Heat and light slammed against the barrier, whipping through the circle, energy rebounding wildly as if searching for escape.
Elara squeezed her eyes shut, fingers splayed against the ground, bracing.
It felt like something was being ripped from her—not imposed from without, but erupting from her core.
Even through the chaos, she felt his strength falter. His ether frayed. A grunt escaped him, and his trembling hands slipped against her thighs. He was losing control—fighting to hold on as something inside her resisted.
The tether snapped.
The impact slammed through her, a violent recoil that shook her to the bone as he tore himself free.
Elara’s eyes fluttered open, the world blurred through tears clinging to her lashes. Her cheeks were wet, hot from sobs that had torn free without her realizing.
Tristan stood beyond the barrier, his ether surging—tendrils of water crashing against it, straining to break through. Inside, though, she and the Hunter were locked within a circle of fire, crackling and fierce, close enough to scorch but never quite touching them. Contained. Controlled. Barely.
Her gaze found the Hunter. His breaths were ragged, loud in the charged air, head bowed, dark strands of hair veiling his face. But his hands—his hands were still on her, fingers pressed into her skin, burning through her like live embers. A shiver tore through her, muscles tensing.
Then he jerked back, as if burned.
For a heartbeat he went still, shoulders rigid. Slowly, he straightened and lifted his head. When his eyes met hers, Elara’s breath caught.
Darkness coiled through his gaze like smoke, pulsing, swallowing the amber at its center. Panic flared—then just as quickly, the darkness slipped away, retreating into the depths and leaving his eyes clear… but haunted.
“Let the ether go,” he rasped, his voice raw.
Elara blinked, the words barely cutting through the haze of fire and power coursing through her. Let it go? She didn’t have access to her own ether—only his.
The realization hit hard. She was drawing from it, shaping the fire around them, and he—he was holding it back, keeping it from devouring them both.
"How?" she whispered, as heat surged through her veins, molten fire pulsing with every heartbeat. But it wasn’t just heat.
It was power. Unimaginable power. She felt invincible, infinite, untouchable—and so very dangerous.
He reached out, his hand finding the nape of her neck. She didn’t flinch as his fingers threaded into her hair, gripping tightly. His forehead pressed against hers, their breath mingling in the thick heat. “Feel.”
Elara’s eyes slid shut in understanding. She reached not outward, but inward—through the bond, the thread that tethered them together. It blazed between them, coiled tightly, draining them both, entwining them in a way that made her feel as though they were fused into one entity.
Elara inhaled slowly, focusing on the connection, and eased away from it—piece by piece, letting go, retracting her grasp from his ether until she wasn’t feeding from it anymore. Until they were separated as much as two bound souls could ever be.
A sharp breath rushed out of him, warm and unsteady, ghosting across her lips. Then a low, almost bitter laugh rumbled from his chest, hollow in the sudden quiet—so out of place it made her flinch.
“Well,” he said at last, lips curving into a crooked grin that held no warmth, “I don’t know what I was expecting. But it wasn’t that.”