Chapter 12
Rell
Rell leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs toward the crackling fire.
The flames cast a warm glow across the room, dancing over the mismatched furniture and the slumped figure of Elora.
She had barely lasted two minutes in the armchair before her head lolled to the side, her arms crossed loosely over her chest.
He flipped to a fresh page of his journal and lifted his charcoal, beginning the rough outline of her profile.
He liked to draw people, capture them on the pages of his journal like tiny glimpses into his memories.
He didn’t want to ever forget a face. The first person he drew was a young girl from a northern village that he vowed to save one day.
Drew her up so he’d be able to find her. He never did.
He already had Elora cataloged in his journal, he had no reason to draw her again.
He just needed to keep his hands busy. But as the soft lines took shape on the page, something made him pause.
The exhaustion was etched deep into her features.
Even now, she looked like she was bracing for something, her hands curling loosely over her forearms, her shoulders too stiff for someone who was supposed to be resting.
He stared at the half-finished sketch, then at her sleeping form. Drawing her while she worked was one thing—just passing time, nothing more. But this felt... different. Wrong somehow. Too vulnerable. Too intimate for what she was to him.
Some random alchemist he hardly knew.
Rell erased the lines with his thumb, leaving smudged charcoal residue across the page.
He closed the journal and set it aside, shifting his weight as his other hand fidgeted with the hilt of his dagger.
He needed to start getting ready for their mission tonight.
But something kept him rooted to the spot.
What is it about her?
Maybe it was the history she shared with Symond.
He didn’t know yet what happened between the two, but he knew the tension ran deep.
Rell hadn’t been able to stand the guy from the moment Violette introduced him, and seeing someone else who clearly shared his opinion was.
.. satisfying, in a way. Or maybe it was something else, something that tugged at a part of him he didn’t like to acknowledge.
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he watched the fire flicker. He knew what nightmares looked like, what they felt like. Years ago, they’d torn through his sleep, leaving him shaking and drenched in sweat.
Only Vye knew about his restless nights.
The memories came less often now, but when they did, they hit just as hard. Faces he couldn’t save, decisions he couldn’t undo. He’d learned to live with them, burying the fear and guilt under layers of charm and sarcasm. That’s what the world expected, and he was all too happy to oblige.
But Elora...
Her walls were thinner. She tried to hide it—he’d give her credit for that—but she wasn’t as good at it as she thought.
Rell leaned back again, his eyes drifting to her face. The faint line between her brows softened as she exhaled, her body shifting slightly in the chair. There was something about her that reminded him too much of people he’d lost.
“Don’t start caring, Rellius,” he muttered to himself.
He fidgeted with his dagger again, spinning it between his fingers in a smooth, practiced motion.
The door to the common room creaked open, and Symond strode in, his boots scuffing loudly against the floor. “Are we doing this or not?” he barked.
Rell winced. Elora stirred slightly in the armchair but didn’t wake. He shot a sharp glare at Symond. “Keep it down,” he hissed. “She just fell asleep.”
Symond’s gaze flicked to Elora, his lip curling into a faint sneer. “Oh, sorry.” He sarcastically cupped his cheeks with both hands like he was staring at a cute kitten. “Didn’t realize we were running a nursery.”
Rell groaned, rubbing his temple.
Violette stepped in behind Symond, leaning casually against the wall with her arms crossed. Her sharp eyes glanced between them, but her expression remained neutral, her posture relaxed as though she wasn’t fazed by Symond’s antics.
“This is your fault,” Rell said, pointing an accusatory finger at her. “You’re the one who wanted to keep him. Like some stray dog.”
Violette raised an eyebrow. “You know he has his value.”
“He’s a headache,” Rell shot back, leaning forward in his chair. “You should’ve just gotten an actual dog. It’d probably listen better, and I guarantee it’d be more useful.”
Violette rolled her eyes and pushed off the wall, settling on the arm of a nearby chair. “Oh, come on. He’s not that bad.”
“Right here,” Symond interjected dryly, motioning to himself. “Can hear everything you’re saying.”
“Good,” Rell said, glaring at him. “Then maybe you’ll take the hint.”
Symond bristled, his jaw tightening as his hands flexed at his sides. “You don’t know what I’ve been through,” he said, his voice lower now but no less heated.
Rell didn’t know. But he, mostly, didn’t care.
Everyone had gone through shit. He had. Vye had.
It doesn’t give Symond the right to be a dickhead.
He couldn’t say that to him, but only because he didn’t want to wake Elora.
Instead, he stored that rebuttal for later, sure that this wasn’t the last time Symond would say those very words.
But Rell now knew exactly what he would be filling that smudged page of his journal with.
“You’re right. I don’t. But I know how The Hive works, and if you can’t figure out how to channel all that anger into something useful, you won’t last.”
Symond opened his mouth to retort, but Violette cut in before the conversation could spiral. “Alright, enough,” she said, her tone carrying the weight of authority. “Symond’s rough around the edges, sure, but he’s got potential, and I’m not about to waste it. Besides, he’ll prove himself tonight.”
Rell tapped his fingers on the armrest of his chair, his eyes narrowing as he stared into the fire.
The flickering flames did little to soothe him, not with the weight of their mission pressing down on him.
The original plan had been simple: the three of them would handle the fieldwork, giving Symond the chance to prove he could be more than just an enchanter for The Hive.
But while Elora’s alchemy was essential, her presence had thrown a wrench into everything.
He glanced at her again, still fast asleep in the armchair. Her breathing was soft, her face finally free of the tension she carried when awake.
“What do we do about her?” Violette followed Rell’s gaze. “She’s already not supposed to be here as it is. If anyone finds out, it’ll blow back on us.”
“I think leaving her here is a great idea,” Symond said, his voice oozing with sarcasm.
Elora stirred slightly, murmuring faintly in her sleep. All three of them glanced her way before quickly returning their attention to the discussion.
Violette sighed, rubbing her temple. “Fine. She’ll stay here,” she said, her voice firm. “But locked up. I don’t want her roaming around and causing trouble.”
Rell exhaled through his nose, nodding reluctantly. They had no better option, and there was no time to argue. They had a job to do.
One by one, they moved to gather their gear. Rell slung his coat over his shoulders, checking the shards Elora had brewed earlier before tucking them safely into his belt. His knives were already in place, the familiar weight steadying him.
When he was all set to go, Rell stepped back into the common room and gently shook Elora’s shoulder. She stirred, blinking groggily as she looked up at him, her eyes half-lidded with exhaustion.
“Rise and shine,” he said lightly. “We’re about to head out.”
For a moment, she just stared at him, her confusion plain. Then, with a soft groan that kind of sounded like “okay”, she sank further into the chair, pulling her arms tighter across her chest as though trying to burrow back into sleep.
Rell sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, no. Can’t risk you snooping around while we’re gone. You’ll have to be locked in your room until we’re back.”
Her eyes flickered open again, the haze of sleep gone in an instant. “Locked?” she asked, her voice hoarse. “But... why?”
He crouched slightly to meet her gaze, offering a faint, apologetic smile. “Sorry, Elora. But you’re an outsider here,” he said. “We can’t take any chances.”
For a moment, she looked offended, her lips parting as though to argue. But then her expression shifted to under-standing, or at least the semblance of it. Reluctantly, she stood, her arms wrapped loosely around herself and followed him out of the room without a word.
At her door, Rell pushed it open, gesturing for her to step inside. “We’ll be back in a few hours. Just get some rest.”
Elora lingered in the doorway. Her gaze swept over the familiar, impersonal room, the same one she’d woken up in earlier, its stark walls and sparse furnishings offering no comfort. Finally, she stepped inside, her back straight, refusing to look at him.
“Fine,” she said curtly.
Rell lingered, watching as she moved toward the bed. She sat on the edge for a second, then laid down stiffly, her eyes fixed on the ceiling. Her silence was deafening, and he found himself searching for something to say, though no words came.
Why does this feel wrong?
He sighed quietly, raking a hand through his hair again. This was what they had agreed on, his protection in exchange for her cooperation. Leaving her locked up wasn’t ideal, but it was the only option. She wasn’t part of The Hive, and trust wasn’t something they gave freely.
Still, it felt like abandoning her. It didn’t sit well in his gut.
“Get some sleep,” he said finally. She didn’t respond, her gaze still fixed upward.
Rell stepped back, closing the door with a muted click before turning the lock. The sound felt heavier than it should have, like it echoed louder in his chest than in the hallway.
He exhaled and headed toward Violette and Symond, shaking off the unease curling in his gut. There was a mission to focus on now.