Chapter 39
Elora
Elora slipped quietly into the storage room. The moment she entered, Tehvan stopped pacing, his anxious energy freezing as his gaze locked onto her. Even in the minimal light, she could see the worry etched deep into his face, his normally composed demeanor cracked by her lateness.
Tehvan crossed the room, clutching her shoulders.
His fingers dug in slightly, as if he were trying to steady himself as much as her.
His eyes flickered over her face, her sharp pupils, then down to her hands, where her claws, stained red, glinted faintly in the light.
He hadn’t seen her like this yet. His expression—shock, confusion, and something close to helplessness—made Elora’s feel the need to apologize.
He didn’t know how to help her. He didn’t understand what Thorn had done to her, and the pain of that realization was evident in his eyes.
Tehvan shook his head quickly, forcing himself to focus. “Are you okay?” He looked over her more thoroughly. “What took so long?”
Elora swallowed hard, pushing back the images of Gerard and Viliam from her mind.
She wasn’t ready to tell Tehvan everything, certainly not about releasing a massive, winged predator into The Institute.
She knew Tehvan wouldn’t approve. It was a risk, an unnecessary complication to their carefully laid plan.
“I’m fine,” she said, a little too quickly, brushing his concerns aside. “It was... Gerard.” The name tasted bitter in her mouth, and she saw Tehvan’s eyes darken with understanding. “He cornered me. I… dealt with him,” she added.
Tehvan frowned, his gaze searching hers. “Dealt with him?” He didn’t press for more, yet his eyes were drawn to the dried blood on her claws.
She glanced away. “It’s nothing we have to worry about now.
We need to go, Tehvan. We don’t have time.
” Her words came out sharper than she intended, her nerves frayed from the encounter with Gerard and everything else.
It was impossible for her to slow down now, not when they were so close to leaving.
Tehvan clearly sensed that she wasn’t telling him everything. But whatever doubts he had, he brushed them aside, nodding tightly. “You’re right. We need to move before anyone else catches on.”
He released her shoulders, and Elora exhaled, grateful that he hadn’t pressed further. The weight of her choices lingered, gnawing at the back of her mind. She couldn’t shake the image of Viliam’s golden eyes or the dark pleasure she experienced when she had left Gerard to die.
But none of that mattered now.
Tehvan hurriedly slung a satchel over Elora’s shoulders. He gave her no time to open it, no time to explore what it contained. Every second was precious now. She shoved Thorn’s recipe into it and climbed down a ladder into the chilly, moist tunnel below.
The darkness swallowed them whole, the air growing thinner with each suffocating step.
Tehvan stumbled slightly, his hands brushing the walls as he struggled to find his balance.
The tunnel was almost completely black, but for Elora, it was as clear as day.
Her enhanced senses allowed her to see every crack in the stone, every turn and bend ahead.
She moved to the front, taking the lead. Her ears perked, listening for the faintest sign of movement, her instincts sharpening with every step.
Tehvan hesitated behind her. She sensed his unease.
He didn’t understand what the magic had done to her, didn’t fully trust this version of her.
This new version, twisted by Thorn’s experiments.
He was weary of the changes. She knew he wanted to lead, wanted to protect her, as he always had. But it wasn’t the time to argue.
Tehvan slipped in front of Elora as they rounded the bend, his hand pressed lightly against a door.
He opened it cautiously; the hinges creaking softly as it swung outward.
The room beyond was hazy, its air thick with the salty scent of the ocean.
Crates, cargo, discarded tools, and equipment lined the space.
This had to be the warehouse by the docks.
Elora and Tehvan moved silently, crouching against the wall beneath a small window. Just beyond the warehouse, the docks stretched out before them, bathed in silver moonlight. Their escape sat anchored nearby, its dark hull bobbing gently with the tide, sails slack and waiting.
The rhythmic creak of the ship and the hushed whispers of the waves against the dock almost felt reassuring. Almost.
Then an alarm split the night. A shrill wail. Elora and Tehvan locked eyes, shock mirrored between them. No one spoke, but she knew. Someone had found Gerard.
“The Institute is going on lockdown.” Tehvan muttered, already turning toward the dock.
Lantern light sliced through the darkness, swaying beams cutting across the planks.
The once-empty dock teemed with movement.
Guards scattered like ants, shouts overlapping in the wind.
Some stormed onto the ship, forcing the crew back with sharp orders, while others knelt by the mooring lines, ensuring the vessel remained anchored.
Their escape was gone.
The guards moved in pairs, one carrying a lantern, the other with a drawn coil, the perfect tool to snatch up a runaway.
Elora’s breaths grew shallow. Her fingers twitched at her sides, her claws unsheathing on instinct. What now? What now? There was no way out. Not anymore.
Panic clawed at her throat. She forced herself to think—to find something, anything. Could she swim? No, the current was too strong. Fight her way through? Impossible. They were surrounded. Then what? Was this it? Would she die here?
Tehvan was silent beside her, his gaze locked on the ship, his fingers tugging at the graying hair of his beard.
“There’s no other way,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “You know that, don’t you?”
Tehvan didn’t look at her.
She gritted her teeth. A low, animalistic growl rumbled in her throat, barely contained.
“I won’t be taken back,” she hissed. “Not to him.”
Still, he said nothing.
Her breath came faster. The beast inside her, the thing she had become, pressed against the edges of her mind, whispering, urging.
“I’ll run out there.” Her claws flexed. “I’ll tear them apart. I’ll make them kill me before they drag me back to Thorn.”
Tehvan’s head snapped toward her.
Her entire body was taut, wired for battle, aching to sink her claws into something soft. “At least,” she whispered, voice trembling with something close to madness, “I can take a few of them with me.”
It would be easy.
Just a few steps forward, and she would rip through the guards like paper. Tear into their throats, feel the hot spray of their lives slipping between her fingers. She wouldn’t even have to think. Just act.
Her body ached for it.
No.
The thought whispered through the chaos, small, fragile.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
She wanted to fight, but not because she was brave. It wasn’t courage pushing her forward. It was terror. The moment she let herself get captured, it was over. No death was worse than what Thorn had in store for her. If she ran out there, at least she could choose how she died.
But she wasn’t ready. Not to go back. Not to die. A choked breath rattled in her chest. She swayed, caught between the feral hunger screaming for carnage and the tiny, fractured piece of her that was still Elora—the girl who wanted to survive.
“Elora.”
She barely heard him past the pounding in her skull, past the sharp clawing of her own instincts. She blinked rapidly, trying to focus.
“Listen to me.” A firm hand gripped her shoulders. “There’s another way off the island.”
That made her focus. Hope flickered, but it was fragile. “How?”
“It’s riskier,” he admitted. “And I won’t be able to go with you.”
The feral instinct—the one that had been so willing to run out and die—suddenly vanished. He’s not coming with me? Didn’t she want that? Independence? To not have that reminder of everything he failed to stop. The lies he told her.
No. She needed him. He never prepared her for the real world and now he wanted to throw her into it blind and alone. What happened to making sure she was safe?
“But you promised me.” Her voice stammered. “You said you were coming with me to ensure my safety. Now you’re—”
“I am ensuring your safety. Staying here allows me to better protect you. I can sabotage Thorn’s efforts to bring you back.” He tilted her chin so she’d look at him. “I’m too recognizable in Adruimor.”
She twisted her head away. “You’re not staying here. Thorn will know you helped me,” she said, clutching his sleeves. “That’s—Tehvan, that’s stupid.”
“Don’t worry about that. I can handle my brother.
” He guided her back to the entrance to the tunnels.
“Go left at the fork and follow the stream of the water. There’s a hidden cove on the north shore, just out of sight from the docks.
There should be some discarded dinghies there.
Wait for my signal. I’ll cause a distraction, draw them away from your trail.
Get to one, and sail north until you reach Ravenpoint.
“I’ll meet you in Kilfaire. There’s a scholars’ conference in three weeks, one that should give me an acceptable reason to leave the Institute.” He gripped her hand, holding on tight. “Once I join you, we’ll head north. Together.”
But doubt coiled tight in her chest, a silent warning she was unable to ignore.
Her whole life, Tehvan had been there. The one constant in a world that wanted her broken, beaten, owned.
He had shaped her, protected her. He had made her.
Even now, even after all the lies, even after not stopping Thorn or Gerard, even after failing her, she still needed him.
“I... I don’t know if I can do this,” she stammered. She thought of Thorn, of Gerard, of Symond, of every nightmare she’d barely escaped from. “What if…”
Tehvan leaned in, cupping her cheek with his palm. “Elora, you can do this. You’ve survived so much already. This is just one more step. And when I meet you in Kilfaire, we’ll put all of this behind us for good.”
She didn’t want to let him go, but the intensity in his eyes reminded her that this plan was the only chance they had. This or death. She nodded. It wasn’t quite determination she felt, but something close.
Tehvan’s voice took on a steady, focused tone as he continued, his words coming fast. “Once you reach Ravenpoint, head straight for the Whispering Woods. It’s the quickest route to Kilfaire, but you’ll need to be cautious.
Stay out of sight, avoid the main roads.
And Elora…” He met her gaze with an intensity that made her throat tighten, “don’t trust anyone. Understand?”
Elora’s skin prickled with goosebumps at the mention of the Whispering Woods. The thought of passing through it left her with an unease that felt oddly familiar, as if something buried in her memory warned her against it.
Have I been there before? Perhaps before Tehvan had taken her in, back when her life was a fractured haze. It didn’t matter now. She couldn’t afford to let her mind wander or lose focus. Nothing in those woods was worse than the life she was abandoning.
Elora stepped forward, wrapping her arms around him. But it wasn’t just an embrace. It was desperate, clinging, as if holding on would stop time, would erase everything that had happened, would make her believe in him the way she once had.
She wanted to. Gods, she wanted to. But there was so much she wanted to scream at him—so much she wanted to demand. Why didn’t you stop Thorn? Why did you let me suffer? Why didn’t you take me away sooner?
But there wasn’t time.
She pulled back. Her throat felt too tight, her mind at war with itself, but her heart—the wounded, desperate part of her heart—won.
She had to believe in him. She had to.
“I love you.”
A faint, sad smile touched his lips. Not triumphant. Not relieved. Just… sad. He brushed a strand of hair from her face.
“I love you too, Elora.”