Chapter Eighty-Six
ELYSSARA
Ronyn’s question hangs in the air, and the silence stretches.
What is the fifth relic? Why doesn’t the prophecy speak of it?
No one has the answer.
Not yet.
We reach the gathering chamber once more, alive with Cindrali people cooking, cleaning, sipping tea together.
Though we’ve retrieved what we came for, it doesn’t feel like a victory. Not entirely. These people are still trapped—separated, lost, forgotten.
Tvira stands tall and stoic, holding my gaze for a long moment as if it were a silent farewell. She inclines her head slightly—the only sign she acknowledges that we won’t see her again, at least not until we’ve awakened the Flame-heart and restored Cindralis.
“This is where we part ways,” Nehvara says. “You have what you need. Now, the path is yours to walk.”
I clutch the necklace at my chest, remembering why we came. The pressure of the prophecy, impending war, Kael’s sister. All of it crashes down on me instantly. I squeeze my eyes closed, drawing in a long, steady inhale.
“The more you resist, the more difficult the journey,” Tvira croons, and though I’d like to bury one of my daggers into her thigh, she’s right. I can’t escape this. And deep within, I don’t actually want to. I owe this to my family. I owe this to my bloodline. I owe this to Aevryn.
I nod curtly. Our farewell is simple. No ceremony. No blessing. Just a sharp incline and the soft rush of water echoing from the narrow tunnel ahead.
We move toward it—toward the cold, bottomless abyss that brought us in.
Back to the world above.
“Swim down. The threshold does the rest,” Nehvara explains, though it barely feels like one.
“Swim down,” Ronyn repeats, laughing hysterically at the ridiculousness of the explanation. “Allow me, ladies and gentlemen... and Daelen, a god among men,” he quips before leaping head-first into the freezing waters, and swims down without another thought.
“He’s obviously a brilliant judge of character,” Daelen jokes, the grin on his face cocky and brazen. Then again, it almost always is.
“We’ll go,” Therion declares, reaching for Seren’s hand.
One by one, everyone leaps into the waters, and doesn’t return.
That has to be a good sign.
Kael kisses my forehead, “I know you need to do this alone, El.” He winks at me, “I love you.” Warmth blooms in my chest.
It’s just me. Me and these fucking waters and this godsdamned Gateway of Threads.
“What’s it going to be, Lightborne? Resist? Or free fall into the unknown?” Tvira probes.
I’ve waited for this prophecy for most of my life. I’ve starved in the streets of Virellin just to get a chance at doing precisely what I’m doing now. I’ve fought it at every turn—resenting the choices, the weight, the journey. But no more.
I walk to the water's edge, the chill from below licking at my feet. I stare into the dark chasm, and my own face stares back at me. My mother’s face. Her eyes. Her untamed hair. And her unbreakable spirit.
My unbreakable spirit.
I turn around, balancing delicately on the edge, and let myself go, free falling into the abyss. The waters rise to meet me like fate itself—cold, swift, inescapable.
I lock eyes with Tvira, and I swear I see her smile before the waters swallow me whole.