Victor didn't flinch, his gaze steady and taunting. "You can't protect her forever. Sooner or later, the truth will come out."
Before Sebastian could respond, Victor's form began to dissolve into shadows, slipping through his grasp like smoke. Within seconds, he was gone, leaving only an unsettling silence behind.
Sebastian turned to Elara, his expression unreadable. "Are you hurt?"
She shook her head, though her knees felt weak beneath her. "Who was that? And what did he mean about me being the key?"
Sebastian hesitated, his jaw tightening. "He's dangerous. That's all you need to know."
"No." Her voice was sharp, cutting through the tension. "That's not good enough. I'm done being kept in the dark."
Sebastian sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. "It's not safe for you to know everything yet. Trust me, Elara. I'm trying to protect you."
Her frustration boiled over, and she stepped closer, her eyes blazing. "Protect me from what? Or from *who*?"
Before he could answer, the faint sound of footsteps echoed down the hall once more. This time, they were hurried, frantic.
A woman burst into the room, her face pale and streaked with dirt. It was Liora.
"They're here," she gasped, clutching the doorframe for support. "We need to leave. Now."
Sebastian's expression darkened. "How many?"
"Too many," Liora replied, her voice trembling. "And they're not alone."
Elara's heart raced as she looked between them. "Who's here? What's happening?"
Neither of them answered her. Instead, Sebastian grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward the door.
"We don't have time for questions," he said. "If you want to stay alive, do exactly as I say."
The urgency in his voice sent a chill down her spine, but she didn't resist. As they hurried through the winding halls of the estate, the sound of approaching chaos grew louder. Shouts, crashes, and an unearthly growl echoed through the air.
Elara's mind raced. The whispers, the shadows, Victor's cryptic words—everything was spiraling out of control, and she had no idea what was waiting for her at the end of it.
They reached the grand staircase, where a group of figures was already ascending, their faces obscured but their intentions clear.
Sebastian turned to Liora. "Take her and go. I'll hold them off."
Liora grabbed Elara's arm, but she resisted, panic rising in her chest. "No! I'm not leaving without answers."
Sebastian looked at her, his expression fierce but tinged with something softer. "You'll get your answers. But only if you survive."
And with that, he turned back toward the intruders, his body radiating a power Elara didn't fully understand.
Liora pulled her away, her grip firm and unrelenting. As they fled down another corridor, Elara glanced back one last time.
Sebastian stood at the top of the staircase, his golden eyes blazing as he faced the oncoming storm.
And then the world behind her exploded into chaos.
Dorian's breath came in shallow bursts as he crouched in the shadows of the crumbling wall. His hands shook, and the faint smell of charred wood filled his lungs. He wasn't sure if it was the remnants of the explosion or the bitterness of what he'd just overheard.
"You think they'll trust him once the truth comes out?"
The voice was calm, almost too calm, given the weight of the statement. Dorian tightened his grip on the edge of the stone, his knuckles turning white.
"I don't care if they trust him or not," another voice replied. This one was sharper, more aggressive. "What matters is that they'll never follow him once they know. He's as much a pawn as the rest of them."
Dorian's mind raced. They were talking about him. There was no mistaking it now.
The two figures stood in the dim light, their faces obscured, but Dorian recognized one of the silhouettes. Marcus. His closest ally—or so he thought.
A third voice joined the conversation, softer but no less venomous. "We've come too far to let him ruin this now. If he figures out what we've done…"
Dorian couldn't listen anymore. His stomach churned, and his chest felt like it was being squeezed in a vice. He backed away slowly, his footsteps silent on the ash-covered ground.
Behind him, the ruins stretched endlessly, but every broken pillar and shattered window felt like it was watching him, accusing him of not seeing this betrayal sooner.
When he finally stopped, he leaned against a cracked column, his hand trembling as he pressed it to his forehead. "How could I have been so blind?" he whispered to himself.
The sound of footsteps approaching pulled him from his thoughts. He straightened, his body tense, ready for a fight.
But it wasn't an enemy who emerged from the shadows—it was Elara.
Her eyes widened when she saw him, and she hurried over, her movements quick but cautious. "Dorian, what are you doing here? I've been looking for you everywhere."
He didn't answer immediately. His eyes scanned her face, searching for any hint of deception. But all he saw was concern.
"I could ask you the same thing," he said, his voice harsher than he intended.
She stopped a few feet away, frowning. "What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."
Dorian let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "Not a ghost. Just the truth. The ugly, twisted truth."
Elara's frown deepened, and she stepped closer. "What truth? What are you talking about?"
He hesitated, the words caught in his throat. He wanted to tell her everything, to warn her about Marcus and the others, but something held him back.
"Nothing," he finally said, his voice flat. "It's nothing."
Elara didn't believe him. She crossed her arms, her gaze unwavering. "You're a terrible liar, you know that?"
Dorian managed a weak smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Maybe. But some lies are easier than the truth."
Before she could press him further, a low rumble echoed through the ruins. The ground beneath them trembled, and dust rained down from the crumbling ceiling.
"What now?" Elara muttered, her eyes darting around.
Dorian's hand went to the hilt of his sword. "Stay close," he said, his voice firm.
From the shadows, a figure emerged—a man cloaked in black, his face hidden by a hood. He moved with a predatory grace, his steps silent despite the debris underfoot.
"Dorian Zane," the man said, his voice smooth and unhurried. "I was wondering when we'd cross paths."
Dorian stepped in front of Elara, his grip tightening on his sword. "Who are you?"