Chapter 15

The note felt heavier than parchment should, as if the ink itself carried the weight of an unspoken warning.

He is coming.

Elara read the words again, her breath steady but her pulse hammering beneath the surface. Whoever had left it wanted her to know that she was running out of time. But who was he?

Kier? No—Kier was already here, playing his game, taunting her with half-truths and veiled threats.

Her father?

Or was this about something far worse?

A gust of wind pushed against the wooden shutters, making them rattle as if the night itself was unsettled. Elara took a slow breath, folding the note carefully and slipping it into the leather-bound journal she kept on her desk. If Draven saw it, he would demand answers she didn’t have yet.

The candle beside her flickered violently before settling, casting shifting shadows along the stone walls of her room.

A soft knock broke the silence.

She didn’t startle. She already knew who it was.

“Come in,” she murmured.

Leon stepped inside, the dim light illuminating the sharp edges of his face, the tension that coiled through his frame. His ice-blue gaze flickered over her, taking in the note she had tucked away, the way she was standing too still.

He didn’t ask. Not yet.

Instead, he leaned against the desk, arms crossed, his voice steady but low. “I don’t like the way Draven looked at you today.”

Elara exhaled. “You’re not the only one.”

Leon’s jaw ticked, but he said nothing for a moment. Then, finally, “What did Kier say to you?”

Elara hesitated. There was no point in hiding it, not from him. “That I have to choose. Between the truth and…” She swallowed. “And you.”

Leon stilled.

His expression didn’t change, but something in the air did—tightened, thickened, charged with something neither of them could name.

Then, slowly, he pushed off the desk and took a step closer. “And what did you tell him?”

Elara’s breath caught. “I didn’t.”

Leon’s gaze searched hers, his voice quieter now. “Why not?”

Because she didn’t know the answer. Because the truth was something she wasn’t ready to admit—to herself or to him.

Elara looked away. “Because Kier wants to control the choices I make. And I won’t let him.”

Leon studied her for a moment longer, then exhaled, running a hand through his dark hair. “Then we need to stop waiting for him to make the next move.”

Elara frowned. “You have something in mind?”

Leon nodded once. “I know someone who might have the answers you need. But we have to leave tonight.”

Her pulse quickened. “Who?”

Leon’s expression darkened. “An old ally of my father’s. Someone who dealt with the war your mother tried to end.”

Elara hesitated. This was dangerous. Draven would never allow it. If they were caught sneaking out—

Leon must have read her thoughts because he stepped even closer, close enough that she could feel the warmth of his presence.

“You said you wanted the truth,” he murmured. “This is how we get it.”

Elara inhaled slowly.

She had to know.

Even if it meant leaving behind everything safe.

She met his gaze and nodded. “Let’s go.”

\---

**The Escape – A Shadowed Flight**

They moved swiftly through the stronghold’s narrow corridors, their footsteps light, their movements practiced.

The guards at the main gate wouldn’t be expecting them to leave—not tonight. Not after Draven had summoned her for his cryptic warnings.

Elara’s heart pounded, but Leon’s presence beside her kept her steady.

They reached the stables, the scent of hay and leather thick in the air. Their horses were saddled in silence, and within moments, they were riding toward the darkened treeline, the Blackthorn stronghold fading behind them.

Elara didn’t look back.

The truth was waiting.

And she was ready for it.

\---

**The Meeting – A Ghost from the Past**

They rode hard through the night, the cold air biting at their skin, the sky stretching endlessly above them. It wasn’t until the first traces of dawn tinged the horizon that Leon finally pulled his horse to a stop.

Elara followed his gaze.

Before them, nestled deep in the valley’s hidden cliffs, stood an old watchtower. Ivy had claimed most of its stone walls, its once-proud structure weathered by time and battle.

Leon dismounted first, his movements tense. “Stay close.”

Elara swung off her horse, fingers grazing the dagger at her hip.

They moved toward the tower’s entrance, the old wooden door barely hanging onto its rusted hinges.

Leon knocked once. Twice.

Silence.

Then—

The door creaked open.

A man stood there, half-shrouded in shadow.

He was older, his hair streaked with gray, his features marked by time and war. His piercing amber eyes flicked between them before settling on Leon.

“Didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” he said, voice rough from years of battle.

Leon’s jaw clenched. “Neither did I, Garrick.”

Elara stiffened. Garrick Storm. One of Kael Storm’s most trusted men.

And now—possibly the only person who could tell her the truth.

Garrick’s gaze flickered to her. “So you’re her daughter.”

Elara swallowed. “You knew my mother?”

Garrick exhaled, stepping aside. “Knew her?” He shook his head. “I fought beside her.”

Elara’s breath caught.

Leon touched her arm—just a brief press of his fingers, but it steadied her.

Garrick watched the motion, something unreadable flickering in his gaze.

Then he turned and walked inside.

“Come on,” he muttered. “We don’t have much time.”

Elara and Leon exchanged a look.

Then they followed him into the unknown.

\---

**The Warning That Came Too Late**

As the door shut behind them, back at the Blackthorn stronghold, a lone figure stepped out from the shadows.

Soren.

His face was unreadable, his eyes locked on the empty stable where Leon and Elara’s horses had been.

He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head.

Then, without another word, he turned on his heel and walked straight toward Draven’s chambers.