Chapter 48 Elowen
ELOWEN
For a moment, I can’t breathe.
I don’t know what I expected when the door opened—something monstrous, perhaps. Something hulking and terrible and barely contained. But the being standing before me is…refined, almost elegant.
And infinitely more frightening because of it.
He is shaped like a man—tall and slender, with long limbs and a straight, aristocratic posture.
His clothing looks like something out of a noble court, though not one I’ve ever seen.
Velvet breeches cling to his long legs, the fabric a deep, wine-dark red that seems to drink in the light around it.
His waistcoat is richly embroidered with intricate gold thread, the pattern curling and twisting like flames caught in motion, and at his throat is a cascade of fine white lace, pristine and untouched.
Untouched—that’s what makes my stomach twist.
Because his skin is on fire.
It’s not just glowing—it’s actively burning.
Flames crawl over him in a constant, shifting dance—licking up his arms…
curling along the line of his jaw…flickering through the dark strands of his hair as though they belong there.
The fire does not consume him or damage his clothes—the velvet does not char, the lace does not blacken.
It simply…exists, as though the fire is part of him. As though he is the fire.
But the fire isn’t the only strange thing about him. His face is beautiful in a way that makes me uneasy. It’s too perfect…too symmetrical. High cheekbones…a sharp jaw… sensuous lips that are curved in the faintest suggestion of a smile that never quite reaches his eyes.
And speaking of his eyes, Goddess, they’re not like any I’ve ever seen before.
They glow from within, like banked coals stirred suddenly to life.
Deep orange at the center, fading to molten gold at the edges, with no visible whites at all.
When they settle on me, I feel as though I am being seen through—every thought, every fear, every secret laid bare.
Alarm bells go off in my mind as I feel his magical pull. Fire isn’t this being’s only power—I need to be careful here.
“Er…hello,” I say weakly and then wish I could take the simple, banal greeting back. Couldn’t I come up with something better to say to this powerful being? Apparently not.
He doesn’t answer at once but only tilts his head slightly, studying me with a kind of idle curiosity, as though I am something mildly interesting that has wandered into his domain.
Then his gaze flicks past me to Theron and the faint smile on his lips sharpens.
“Ah,” he says, his voice smooth and cultured, carrying a faint crackle beneath it like the sound of burning wood. “This will be…interesting.”
My heart tightens in my chest because I have the sudden, terrible feeling…
He already knows exactly why we’re here.