Chapter 34
Elira
I am in a dark, sparse room. Someone is brushing my hair and singing me a little song—soft and low, a lullaby about a girl who fell in love with the moon.
The brush pulls too hard sometimes, catching on knots. It should hurt.
But I don’t mind.
Because I like the way she sings to me.
The voice is cracked around the edges, like the singer hasn’t spoken in days—or years—but it wraps around me like wool.
The room is both familiar and not. The wallpaper is faded, peeling in the corners. Pale silver vines twist across the surface, and though I’m sure I’ve never been here before, I feel like I know every line of those patterns.
Like I once traced them with tiny fingers and counted the leaves to fall asleep.
There’s a single window, but it’s tiny and covered in thick velvet curtains. Moonlight leaks around the edges, soft and blue.
The woman behind me hums as she works, her breath warm against my scalp.
“Such pretty hair,” she murmurs, her tone lilting. “Just like your mother’s. But your eyes… oh, your eyes are older.”
I open my mouth to speak, but no sound comes.
Her fingers brush against my neck, cool and gentle. I shiver.
Then the brushing stops.
The lullaby dies mid-note.
Her hands freeze.
And I feel it—
the shift in the air.
The wrongness.
Her breath is too still. Too close.
Slowly, I lift my eyes to the mirror in front of me.
And the reflection is wrong.
It’s not me.
It’s a girl with my face—but younger. Barefoot. Dressed in white. Her mouth is smiling.
But her eyes are black.
And behind her—no one stands at all. I am alone. I look for her, but there is no one.
The dream changes, and I am in a garden. It is dark out, like rain is coming. I am rolling a ball on the grass and I am lonely. I roll the ball too far… then suddenly. Something is different.
Someone rolls the ball back.
My eyes shot open, and for a moment, I couldn’t remember where I was.
The air reeked—blood and mildew thick in my lungs. I blinked into the dark, cold cell. A groan drifted from the other side of the wall—Finn. He was sobbing in his sleep again, low and broken.
Mother had given me the choice to stay in a room upstairs, but I couldn’t take Finn with me. They were keeping him—leverage to keep me compliant.
I’d walked straight into her trap. And gods help me, I couldn’t even bring myself to care.
I belonged here.
A rusted grate between our cells let us reach each other. We’d fallen asleep holding hands through it, and I could still feel how brittle he was now—skin stretched thin, strength barely there.
My thoughts drifted to the Shades. Would they be looking for me? Or hunting me—just to drag me back and lock me up again?
It wasn’t like I didn’t deserve it. I had betrayed them. They probably hated me now.
Good. They should hate me. I hope they do.
Down here in the darkness, I didn’t have to play pretend anymore. I didn’t have to fake softness or strength or hope.
I wasn’t noble. I wasn’t powerful. I was worthless. Just blood and shadow and bad decisions. Just another lost thing waiting to be swallowed whole.
And still—
Leo’s damn smile lingered. Slade’s silent loyalty. Phoenix, always trying to understand me.
I hated that they tried.
I hated that part of me still missed them.
At least here, no one would make that mistake again.
No one would look at me like I was someone worth saving.
Because I’m not.
I never was.
I was a weapon. And if they wanted to use me until I broke, I’d let them—if it meant Finn might live.
He was worth more than me. They all were.
The only way out was through the bars in front of me. Earlier, someone had shoved a tin plate through with stale bread and chewy stew. I ate it fast. It was disgusting, slimy and full of gristle. But it was food.
Then—I heard the door.
It opened at the far end of the corridor. Someone was humming as they approached, a tune I remembered.
Each step was deliberate, echoing against stone. My breath hitched. My shadows reacted before I could. Coiling around me. Bristling.
A presence. Heavy. Familiar. Foul.
I backed away from the bars. The corridor was thick with shadows—I pulled them up, wrapping them into a dense veil across the cell front, sealing myself behind a barrier of living black.
Then he stepped into view.
Tall. Cloaked. Draped in black robes that clung to him like smoke. He radiated violence—leashed, barely contained.
I couldn’t see his face. Just the shape of him. Like Death incarnate.
He stopped right in front of my ward.
“Who are you?” I forced the words past the tightness in my throat.
He said nothing at first. Just breathed in, slow and reverent.
“Elira,” he whispered.
The sound of it sent ice down my spine.
It wasn’t just the voice. It was what it did to me. Like insects crawling beneath my skin. My hands curled into fists. My shadows pulsed.
“I said—who are you?” I snapped, shadows surging higher.
He moved closer. Pale fingers—long and talon-like—reached through the veil to grip the bars.
“I forgot how beautiful you were,” he murmured.
Every instinct in me screamed run.
Flashbulb memories surged—ripped fabric, the slap of skin, blood dripping down pale tile. My stomach lurched. I tasted bile.
“I know you…” I choked out, breath hitching.
He reached up, slow and deliberate, and pulled back the hood.
Blood-red eyes locked onto mine—eyes I’d seen in nightmares too many times to count. His face was carved with cruel perfection, the kind that made angels weep and devils jealous. Long white hair spilled over sharp cheekbones and a finely boned jaw. His mouth curved in a reverent smirk.
Anyone else might call him beautiful.
But I knew better.
He was the face of death.
Vael.
The name slammed into my mind like a blade. Instinctive. Instant. Undeniable.
Pain radiated through my brain as the memories began to assault me. I collapsed back on to my cot. Finn, who had heard my distress was reaching for me through the grate.
“Elle! Elle!” He yelled. “Get away from her! Leave her alone!”
Vael peered at Finn’s ineffective movements, amused. “Still the devoted servant, I see, Finnius.”
Finnius?
Pain lanced through my skull—sharp, searing, brutal.
I staggered back, clutching my head as white-hot agony bloomed behind my eyes. My shadows flickered, faltered. The ward I’d held so tightly wavered, pulsing with instability.
Memories—no, visions—forced themselves to the surface.
A hand gripping my throat. A voice whispering promises meant to control. The crack of a whip. My own screams, muffled by cold stone and shame.
No. No. No.
I fell to my knees with a strangled cry, the cell tilting around me. Blood pounded in my ears. My nails dug into my scalp like I could claw the memories back down, bury them where they belonged.
His footsteps echoed again—closer this time.
“Elira,” Vael murmured, like he was tasting something holy. “I missed you so much. I dreamed of holding you again. Did you dream of me?”
His voice was soft. Loving. Deranged.
“I knew,” he whispered, “one day you’d return to me.”
Tears streamed down my cheeks as I clutched my ears, trying to block him out, to block everything out. I looked up—and saw it.
That same godsdamned devotion glowing in his red eyes. The kind that didn’t bend, didn’t break. The kind that destroyed.
He’s unhinged.
“Please…” I sobbed. “Please…” I didn’t even know what I was begging for—mercy, release, oblivion.
“The things I did to find you,” he said. “Six years. Six years of silence after that snivelling, broken shifter stole you from me.”
A metallic click echoed through the corridor. The door next to mine creaked open.
“NO!” Finn’s voice cracked, raw and terrified.
“Leave him alone!” I screamed, flinging myself at the bars. They rattled under my grip, the iron biting into my palms. “Don’t touch him!”
I heard the scuffle. The choking sound of limbs flailing. Finn gasped—and then it stopped.
Vael held him aloft by the throat, as effortlessly as if he were lifting a doll. His expression was serene, almost reverent, like this was a prayer.
“Stop! Please!” I screamed, shadows flaring in all directions, crackling with my panic.
Finn’s legs kicked weakly. His fingers scrabbled at Vael’s wrist. Then—his voice cut off. His limbs sagged.
“Let him go!” I sobbed, slamming against the bars so hard they rattled like bones.
A door further up the hall burst open. Heavy footsteps pounded toward us—several of them. Soldiers. I heard the unmistakable click of boots on stone, measured and controlled.
Mother.
“Enough, Vael!” Her voice sliced through the chaos like a blade. “That boy belongs to me!”
Vael didn’t drop Finn. Not yet. Instead, he turned toward the sound of her voice and hissed—low and feral. It wasn’t human. It wasn’t even animal. It was ancient. Wrong.
The soldiers slowed. One of them cursed under his breath.
I pressed my face to the bars, heart thundering. Finn still hadn’t moved.
Vael’s red eyes gleamed in the dark, still locked on Mother. He bared his teeth, unblinking.
“Do not forget, Mara,” he said softly, voice laced with venom, “he is only breathing because I allow it.”
“He is mine by right, Vael,” Mother said coldly. “And you will leave my prisoners alone.”
“For now,” Vael hissed.
He let out a guttural growl and turned, his cloak flaring behind him as he stormed down the corridor. The air shifted in his wake—like even the shadows were relieved to see him go.
For a moment, no one spoke. The silence was a collective exhale.
I scrambled to the grate between our cells, heart pounding, and shoved my hands through.
“Finn,” I whispered, voice cracking. “Grab my hand. Now.”
Seconds stretched. Then—I felt him. Weak fingers brushed against mine. I latched on and pulled him close, gripping tight like I could anchor us both with sheer will.
“If you want my power, Mother,” I said, glaring up at her through the bars, “keep that monster away from us.”
Mother clucked her tongue at me. “Oh, Elira. You do attract trouble, don’t you.”
She stepped closer, hands folded neatly in front of her. Her voice was smooth, but her eyes were sharp—cutting through me like glass.
“I offered you a room. A warm bed. Safety. But no, you chose this.” She gestured vaguely at the cell walls. “You always choose the hard way.”
“I chose him,” I snapped, tightening my grip on Finn’s hand. “Because I’m not a monster.”
Her smile turned soft—mockingly so. Pitying.
“No, darling,” she said. “You’re worse.”
I froze.
“You’ve been blessed with something magnificent, and yet you let that fragile little heart of yours keep you weak,” she said, voice like velvet over poison. “If I’d let him die…” She tilted her head, gaze sharp as a knife. “You’d be free.”
Her words cut deep, slicing through guilt and bone.
“And you know it.”
I didn’t flinch. I wouldn’t give her that. I just narrowed my eyes, fury coiling low in my gut.
“I loathe you,” I said, each word laced with venom. “Get out of my sight.”
Mother’s smile only deepened. “I just came to give you a little warning.” She smoothed a non-existent wrinkle from her sleeve. “You’ll be fighting again tomorrow. We’re going to make it a little… interesting.”
My stomach turned.
She leaned in slightly, voice a purr. “Thought you might like time to prepare.”
I gave her a smile of my own—sharp and cold. “Great. Can’t wait.”
Then my voice dropped to a growl.
“Now fuck off.”
She chuckled softly, like I’d just said something charming. Then she turned and walked away, heels tapping like a countdown.
The door clanged shut behind her.
And the silence that followed was somehow louder than her presence.
“I’m so sorry, Elle. This is my fault. It’s all my fault,” Finn muttered, again and again, his voice shaking.
Then came the thuds—sickening, rhythmic. He was banging his head against the concrete.
“Stop it!” I crawled back to the grate, pressing my hands through it, reaching for him. “Finn, stop! You’re hurting yourself!”
He didn’t answer. Just kept repeating, “It’s my fault,” like a prayer to a god that had never listened.
“I’m going to get us out of here,” I said, desperate, my voice shaking. “I swear it. I don’t know how, but I will. We’ll be free. Just you and me—like old times.”
But even I could hear how hollow the words sounded in this place.
“We can’t run, Elle,” Finn whispered, broken. “He’ll find us now. He’ll always find us.”
He let out a strangled sob.
“Oh gods,” he choked. “He’s going to take you back... No... no...”
Another sickening crack as he slammed his head again.
“Finn, please!” My voice cracked. “Don’t let him win. Don’t let him break you. Not you.”
I could barely feel his hand when it reached back through the grate. Limp. Cold.
I wrapped my fingers around his like a lifeline, even as my own hands trembled.
“I’ll fight for us,” I whispered. “Even if I have to burn this whole place to the ground.”