Dante's hands trembled as he tightened his grip on the ceremonial dagger. The cold steel bit into his palm, but he didn't flinch. Elara's photograph lay on the altar before him, her soft smile mocking him from a time when everything was simple, when life hadn't been reduced to ashes and despair.
"You're sure about this?" Liora's voice cut through the silence. She stepped into the dim candlelight, her crimson robes flowing like blood. Her expression was unreadable, a mixture of curiosity and caution.
Dante glanced at her but said nothing. What was there to say? He had crossed too many lines already, and one more wouldn't make a difference.
Liora sighed, moving closer. "This isn't just about bringing her back. You understand that, don't you? Each time you do this, you lose a piece of her. What's left may not be what you want."
"She's all I want." His voice was low, fierce.
Liora tilted her head, studying him. "Then let's begin."
Dante's heart pounded as she began the incantation. The room darkened, the air growing thick with power. He focused on the photograph, silently begging Elara to forgive him for what he was about to do.
A gust of wind swept through the room, extinguishing the candles. The shadows danced and shifted, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. Then, a sharp crack echoed, and a figure collapsed onto the floor, gasping for air.
"Elara," Dante whispered, dropping to his knees beside her. He reached out hesitantly, afraid she would disappear if he touched her.
She looked up, her eyes wide with confusion. "Who... who are you?"
His chest tightened, but he forced a smile. "I'm Dante. I'm here to help you."
Elara frowned, her gaze darting around the room. "Where am I? What's happening?"
Liora stepped forward, her presence commanding. "You'll remember in time. For now, rest."
Elara flinched at Liora's voice, pressing herself against Dante. Her fear sent a surge of protectiveness through him, and he shot Liora a warning glare.
"She's fragile," he said through gritted teeth. "Give her space."
Liora raised an eyebrow but said nothing. She turned and began gathering the remnants of the ritual, leaving Dante alone with Elara.
"I'll explain everything," he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Just trust me."
But the look in her eyes—equal parts fear and distrust—told him that trust was the last thing she felt.
As the night deepened, Dante couldn't shake the unease settling in his chest. This was only the beginning, and he knew the price for defying fate would be far greater than he could imagine.
Elara's lips parted, her voice barely audible as she whispered, "I saw... something. Before I woke up."
Dante froze. "What did you see?"
Her eyes filled with terror as she clutched his arm. "It was waiting for me in the dark. And it's coming for us.
Dante clenched his fists as the tension in the room thickened, his sharp gaze fixed on the flickering flame of the solitary candle on the table. It wasn't the candlelight that disturbed him—it was the faint whisper, a voice that shouldn't have been there.
"Elara…" he murmured, the name slipping through his lips as if it were a plea and a curse rolled into one.
Across from him, Marcus Thorne adjusted his gloves, his expression unreadable. "You've been hearing it more frequently, haven't you?"
Dante didn't answer immediately. His jaw tightened as his thoughts swirled. The voice wasn't just in his head. It felt alive, haunting the edges of his reality. He hated the vulnerability it stirred within him.
"What are you trying to say, Marcus?" Dante asked, his voice cold but curious.
The butler stepped closer, his shadow merging with Dante's. "The ritual—it's awakening her. Each rebirth connects her to this world in ways you can't fully understand. You wanted her back, Dante, but perhaps you didn't think about what you'd truly bring."
Dante's throat tightened. He slammed his fist on the table, silencing the flickering flame. "I thought you were here to serve, not lecture."
Marcus bowed slightly, his usual calm demeanor undisturbed. "I only serve your interests, my lord. And Elara's as well."
The mention of her name sent a chill down Dante's spine. He turned away, pacing toward the window. The city outside was as restless as his thoughts, a kaleidoscope of lights and shadows stretching endlessly.
Meanwhile, Elara wandered the halls of the estate, her bare feet brushing against the cool marble floors. She didn't know why she was there, or why her pulse quickened every time she approached the west wing. Something about it felt familiar yet distant, like a dream she'd been forced to forget.
Her hand rested against the cold wood of a door. She felt the pull—an undeniable urge to open it. She hesitated. Was this hers to claim?
Before she could decide, a faint growl echoed behind her. Her heart leaped as she turned to face the source.
Sebastian Graves stood in the shadows, his golden eyes gleaming under the moonlight spilling through the high windows. His presence was commanding, yet something about him felt oddly safe.
"You shouldn't be here," he said, his voice low and rough.
"I'm not sure where else I'm supposed to be," Elara replied, her voice trembling but steady enough to hold her ground.
Sebastian's gaze softened for a moment before hardening again. "This place holds secrets that could consume you."
Elara stepped closer, her curiosity outweighing her fear. "Then maybe you should tell me what those secrets are."
Sebastian's lips parted as if he were about to answer, but then his head snapped toward the far end of the hall. A sharp tension filled the air, and Elara instinctively stepped back.
"What is it?" she whispered.
He didn't reply. Instead, he moved toward her, his towering frame shielding her from the unseen threat. "Stay behind me," he ordered.
Footsteps echoed down the hall, slow and deliberate. Elara peeked around Sebastian to see a woman emerging from the darkness. Her striking features and the faint aura of power surrounding her sent a shiver through Elara.
"Liora," Sebastian said, his tone laced with distrust.
The sorceress smiled, though her eyes remained calculating. "Always so protective, Sebastian. But I'm not here to harm anyone. Not tonight."
Elara's gaze darted between the two of them, her confusion growing. "Who are you?"
Liora's eyes locked onto Elara's, and for a moment, something unspoken passed between them. "I'm someone who knows more about you than you know about yourself."
Elara's breath hitched. The weight of those words settled heavily on her chest. "Then tell me."
Liora tilted her head, a hint of pity in her expression. "Not yet. You're not ready for the truth."
The tension between the three of them was palpable. Elara's frustration bubbled to the surface, but before she could speak again, the faint whisper she'd been ignoring since she woke up returned.
"Elara…"
Her head snapped around, her eyes searching for the source. "Did you hear that?"
Sebastian's eyes narrowed. "Hear what?"
"It was my name. Someone called my name," she insisted, her pulse racing.
Liora's expression darkened, and she stepped forward. "You need to leave this place," she said sharply.