Chapter 31 #2
I draw a long breath, forcing the tension from my shoulders.
“The Vorthari tried to erase themselves from history. We need to find out why. If it’s because of the gods, then finding out could lead us to clues about Elowen’s plans.
There are breadcrumbs scattered in every forgotten manuscript. If we can string them together—”
“—we might trace the trail,” Ravelle finishes. Her manicured fingers spread one of the maps across the table. “Here. And here. These sigils appear again and again across different centuries. Always faint, always tucked between unrelated notes. Yet, they connect.”
I bend over the map, tracing the symbols with a trembling finger. The same shape repeating, always pointing toward the same patch of land. My heart quickens, not with fear this time, but with the first real taste of progress.
Ravelle’s voice remains calm, steady as stone. “We catalog every piece. We chart the sigils. We match them to the lore. Only once we understand what they mean can we predict Elowen's next move.”
Dimitri gives a soft huff of laughter. “Never thought I’d find myself poring over history lessons again. But fine.”
“We can’t overlook anything. I only have a few days before I have to return to Syltheriel for the ball and final trial, but I will return immediately after the Divine Ceremony. While I’m away, you have to continue the search in my place. We can’t be careless, and we can’t waste time,” I say firmly.
Silence settles over the room, heavy, but not hopeless.
The three of us lean over the maps and scrolls as though willing them to give up their secrets.
And beneath the candlelight, despite the chaos of half-legible notes and scattered lore, hope begins to form.
A sense that, together, we might actually find the trail through the dark.
I exhale slowly, letting determination anchor me.
The scraps aren’t enough yet, not nearly. But they’re a start.
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The dining hall is quiet in the morning light. The scent of toasted bread mixes with faint incense, grounding me in a moment of calm I didn’t realize I’d been craving.
Across from me, Dimitri and Ravelle sit close together, their goblets of blood catching the light.
Ravelle is perched half-sideways in her chair, one leg draped lazily over Dimitri’s, her arm hooked on the back of his seat.
Her crimson lips curve in a sly half-smile as she picks at a plate of fruit.
I lift my teacup and sip, letting the warmth chase the quiet through my chest. The past month has been a blur of research, old ruins, and fragments of Roxnos’s forgotten truths.
Still, there has been laughter in between, banter traded over long nights, a sense of belonging I didn’t think I’d find again.
I’m going to miss this when I leave, even if it’s only for a few days.
Dimitri’s silver gaze slides to me over the rim of his goblet. “Sleep well?”
“Better than I expected.”
Ravelle tilts her head. “That’s because you finally slept on a bed for once, instead of that awful couch in the library.”
I give her a small smile, though I can’t quite stop the heaviness that lingers. “Maybe.”
Dimitri shifts, his arm brushing against Ravelle’s where it rests along his chair. “You’ll be leaving tomorrow.”
“Yes.” My voice is soft, almost hesitant. I pick at the edge of my cup. I’m going to miss it here, yes, but another feeling thrums beneath it. Anticipation. Relief, even. Finally, I will see him again. Finally, I might even begin to untangle the knot in my chest.
Ravelle narrows her eyes knowingly, lips curling into a mischievous grin. “You’re thinking about him.”
Heat rises to my cheeks before I can stop it. “I…might be.”
She slaps Dimitri’s arm triumphantly. “Didn’t I say it? She’s absolutely smitten.”
His smirk doesn’t reach his eyes as he swirls the blood in his goblet. “I believe I said it first.” His gaze slides back to me. “And she’s been fighting it every step of the way.”
I groan. “You two are insufferable.”
“Yes, yes, we know,” Ravelle says breezily.
I exhale slowly, the words spilling before I can stop them. “Can I ask something personal?”
Dimitri raises an eyebrow, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “Go on.”
I hesitate. I’ve never told anyone exactly how hard the past twenty-eight years have been.
Everyone knows I struggled with Kallan’s death, but they don’t understand the depth of the pain I have been carrying.
No one knows how numb I became before Koen showed up.
It’s hard for me to talk about my feelings, but I need their advice before I face him again.
"I’ve been struggling," I admit. "With Kallan...with myself. I loved him so much, and I still do. I never imagined loving anyone else. But now there’s Koen, and every time I let myself think about him, I feel like I’m betraying Kallan.
I’m so tired of carrying this guilt...of feeling like I’ll never be able to move on without forgetting him.
How do I move forward? How do I let myself consider someone new without feeling like I’m erasing him? "
Ravelle sets her goblet down with a soft clink, her tone gentler than usual. “You don’t betray the dead by choosing to live, Serenya. You keep what you had with him…it doesn’t vanish. But if you lock yourself away forever, you’ll betray yourself instead.”
Her words catch me off guard. My lips part, but no answer comes. I stare at my hands instead, fingers tracing the rim of my cup.
Dimitri’s voice is quieter when it comes. “You still love Kallan. That won’t change. But loving someone new doesn’t erase what was before.” He tips his head slightly, eyes narrowing. “And Koen…well, he doesn’t feel like a stranger, does he?”
The air shifts, heavy and fragile all at once. Ravelle doesn’t tease this time. She only watches Dimitri. Then her lips twitch into the faintest grin as she turns back to me. “Honestly? From what I’ve heard of Koen, you’d be a fool not to at least try.”
Dimitri gives me a small smile. “She’s right. Give him a chance. He might surprise you.”
I swallow hard, blinking down at the cup in my hands. Maybe they’re right. Maybe love doesn’t have to be a grave I bury myself in. Maybe…just maybe…I can make space for Koen.
For the first time in a long while, I let that fragile spark flicker in the corners of my chest.
The next afternoon, I’m in my chambers, shadows following at my feet as I prepare to leave. A nervous excitement hums through me. In a few minutes, I will stand in Syltheriel again, face my people, and finally see him.
A knock sounds at the door.
When I open it, Dimitri leans lazily against the frame, a polished wooden box in his hands.
“Going somewhere?” Dimitri drawls.
“You know I am,” I reply, rolling my eyes.
“Then consider this a farewell gift.” He extends the box.
Curious, I open it and draw in a soft breath. Black fabric spills into my hands, threads of gold running across it like constellations scattered across the night sky. It shimmers faintly, as if it drank in the starlight itself.
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper.
Dimitri smiles softly. “You’ll need something worthy of a ball, won’t you? Something better than any of those fae gowns you own.”
I lift a brow. “You’re giving me fashion advice now?”
He chuckles. “I wouldn’t dare.” Then he nods towards the dress. “It’ll look perfect on you. Regal, dangerous, and radiant. Exactly how a princess should look when she’s about to make the whole kingdom eat out of her hand.”
I laugh softly.
“I couldn’t let you go back to your people looking like some brooding shadowling skulking in the corner.” His eyes meet mine as he quietly adds, “You’re meant to own the room, Serenya.”
I clutch the gown tighter, shadows curling at my feet, stirred by the anticipation thrumming in me. “I’ll come back next week, after the ceremony.” The promise slips out before I can stop it—soft but certain.
Dimitri squeezes my arm, his voice low, almost protective. “You’d better. Don’t make me come drag you back myself.” Then, with a teasing little wink, he adds, “And when you do come back, make sure you bring Koen with you.”
Once again, heat rushes to my cheeks before I can stop it, my shadows betraying me by curling higher around my ankles.
I really hate how my body responds to the mere mention of him.
I duck my head, clutching the gown tighter. “I’ll think about it,” I mutter, though the quick flash of amusement in his eyes tells me he’s not fooled in the slightest.
He smirks. “Oh, you’re not going to think about it,” he drawls smoothly. “You’re already planning how to keep him all to yourself.”
“Shut up,” I snap, but my voice lacks bite, and his laughter follows me as the shadows rise to carry me away.