---
The night air in Halcythra was thick with the scent of burning incense and damp stone. The city, known for its healers, was a maze of white towers and glowing runes etched into its walls, casting a soft, ethereal glow even in the dead of night. Elena barely registered any of it as she pushed through the temple doors, her breath ragged, her arms trembling from the weight of Adrian's unconscious body. His blood, still warm, seeped into the fabric of her cloak, staining it in a deep, unforgiving red.
The healers moved quickly, their robes whispering against the marble floor as they lifted Adrian onto a floating stretcher. Elena could only watch, her heart pounding as his face—usually so sharp, so full of defiance—remained eerily still. She reached out, brushing a strand of blood-matted hair from his forehead. His skin was cold. Too cold.
A healer, an elderly woman with silver tattoos curling around her wrists, placed a firm hand on Elena's shoulder. "His spirit core is fractured. He is still alive, but his essence is unstable. If we do not act quickly, he will slip beyond our reach."
Elena swallowed hard, nodding. "What do you need me to do?"
"You've done enough, child," the healer said gently, but there was a weight behind her words. "Now, you must wait."
Elena hated that word. Wait. It felt like surrender. But what choice did she have?
She stood in the hall, arms wrapped tightly around herself, as the doors to the healing chamber shut. A golden sigil flared to life on the wood, sealing it from interference. The light flickered, then stabilized, leaving Elena alone in the cold corridor.
She leaned against the wall, pressing a hand to her chest to steady her breathing. The weight of everything crashed down at once. Asmara's deception. The Hollow Veil's horrors. Adrian's sacrifice. She should have seen it coming. The signs had been there—the flickers of doubt, the warnings carved in stone. But she had wanted to believe.
And now, Adrian was paying the price.
---
Hours passed, though it felt like an eternity. Finally, the healer returned. Her face was unreadable.
"He lives," she said, and Elena's knees nearly buckled with relief. "But his body has been drained beyond its limits. His spirit core has been stabilized, but his consciousness is another matter. It may take a year, perhaps longer, before he wakes."
The world tilted.
"A year?" she echoed. It felt impossible.
"His soul is lost between realms," the healer explained. "Much like the Hollow Veil itself, he is trapped in a place between existence and nothingness. Only time can restore him."
Elena stared at Adrian through the translucent sigil. He looked peaceful, as if he were merely sleeping. But she knew better.
A year.
It wasn't just the length of time that struck her—it was the reality of it. Adrian had been her anchor. He was the one who had kept her from losing herself in the chaos. Without him, she was alone again.
The thought clawed at her chest, but she forced herself to breathe through it. She couldn't afford to fall apart. Not now.
She turned to the healer. "And if time isn't enough?"
The woman hesitated, her gaze flicking to the sigil-covered door. "Then he will remain as he is. Forever."
The word settled like ice in Elena's bones. She clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms. "No. That won't happen."
The healer regarded her carefully. "There is little you can do here, child. But if you are set on preventing such a fate, I suggest you look beyond these walls. Power does not come from waiting."
Elena understood what she was saying. The healer couldn't give her the answers, but there was a place that might.
Ithrenis.
The city of sorcery. A place where magic was studied not as a gift, but as a science—where knowledge was dangerous, and the strong thrived while the weak were forgotten. If there was any place in the world that could teach her how to control her magic—how to fix the damage that had been done—it was there.
It wasn't just about saving Adrian. It was about making sure something like this never happened again.
She exhaled slowly, steadying herself.
"I'll go."
---
The next morning, she stood at Adrian's bedside, tracing the edges of his bandaged fingers. He looked so unlike himself—too pale, too fragile. She had seen him face down monsters, fight through impossible odds, and yet this was what had nearly taken him from her.
She swallowed past the lump in her throat. "I know you'd hate this plan," she whispered, a ghost of a smirk flickering across her lips. "You'd say it's reckless. That I should think before I act. But you're not here to stop me."
Her fingers curled around his hand. "I won't let this be the end for you."
She straightened, turning to Kael, who stood near the door. His usual easy smirk was gone, replaced by something heavier.
"Watch over him for me," she said. It wasn't a request—it was a command.
Kael crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. "I still think you're insane for going alone. Ithrenis isn't exactly welcoming."
"Good," Elena muttered. "I'm not looking for kindness."
Kael sighed, shaking his head. "You're your father's daughter, alright."
She flinched. For the first time in days, she thought of her parents—the choices they had made, the sacrifices they had given. Had they felt this same desperation? This same helplessness?
She didn't know.
But she was going to find out.
---
The journey to Ithrenis was long and treacherous. The city lay beyond the Shrouded Divide, a stretch of land where magic distorted reality itself. Travelers whispered of roads that twisted into dead ends, of illusions so convincing they drove men mad.
Elena was not afraid.
She rode in silence, her thoughts consumed by the mission ahead. The weight of Adrian's fate, of the truths she had yet to uncover, pressed against her like a physical force.
By the time the gates of Ithrenis loomed in the distance, dusk had settled over the land. The city was unlike any she had seen before—towering spires that seemed to stretch into infinity, streets carved from obsidian and lined with glowing sigils. The air crackled with magic, a pulse of power that sent shivers down her spine.
At the entrance, two figures in dark robes blocked her path. Their masks, featureless except for a single rune etched across the forehead, marked them as Gatekeepers.
"Name," one of them intoned, voice devoid of emotion.
Elena straightened. "Elena Veyne."
A pause. Then, slowly, the Gatekeeper reached into his robes and pulled out a parchment.
"You are expected."
Her breath hitched.
"What?"
The Gatekeeper turned, the heavy gates groaning open before her. "The Grand Archivist has been awaiting your arrival."
Her pulse thundered. No one was supposed to know she was coming. And yet, someone had been waiting.
A shiver ran through her.
She stepped forward, crossing the threshold into the unknown.