Chapter 75
Lirael
Twelve hours later, I stood in the ruins of an abandoned church on Frosthaven's outskirts, my breath misting in air cold enough to burn. The building had seen better centuries—shattered windows, pews reduced to kindling, snow drifting through gaps in the roof. But it was isolated, off any patrol routes, and according to Damian's intel, Elwin's chosen meeting point.
I heard him before I saw him, the crunch of boots on ice-crusted stone making me tense and reach for the knife in my boot. He emerged from behind a collapsed pillar like a ghost, all sharp angles and wary eyes that had seen too much too young. The silver hair marked him as other, but it was the way he moved—hesitant yet predatory, scared but dangerous—that told me he'd learned survival the hard way.
"You came." His voice cracked slightly, betraying his youth. His eyes were red-rimmed, and I suspected he'd been crying recently, probably more than once. "I wasn't sure... Damian said you would, but I thought maybe..."
"I'm here." I kept my distance, letting him adjust to my presence. Mixed-blood elves were rare, often abandoned by both communities, and trust didn't come easy to the twice-rejected. "Tell me about Sophia."
His face crumpled before he caught himself, hands clenching into fists at his sides. "She saved me. Ten years ago, when I was seven, my mother left me in the snow. Called me 'cursed,' said mixed-bloods brought misfortune." The words came out mechanical, a story told so many times it had lost its power to wound—or so he wanted me to believe. "Sophia found me half-frozen, took me to her estate, raised me like I was her own son. She's the last of the Moonwhisper bloodline, one of the old families. She calls herself 'the last watcher.'"
I nodded slowly, filing away the information. Noble houses, old bloodlines—fragments of a culture I'd never known, stolen from me before I could even speak. "And the ruins?"
"Three months ago, when they were discovered, Sophia became obsessed." His voice picked up speed, words tumbling over each other. "She spent every night researching, pulling out ancient texts I'd never seen before. I snuck looks at her notes once—they were full of words like 'sacred tree,' 'moon spring,' 'soul's return.'" He swallowed hard, and I watched his throat work. "When the Nightwatch sent the gala invitation two weeks ago, she said it was her only chance to get close to the truth. Then three days ago, she went out to buy a dress and never came back."
"Her room?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.
"Ransacked. All her research on the ruins, gone. Every document, every photograph, every scrap of paper." His voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "I think the Nightwatch took her. They wanted what she knew, or they wanted leverage over the other elves near the site. But I can't prove anything, and I'm just a mixed-blood kid. No one listens to me."
I stepped closer, placing a hand on his shoulder. He flinched but didn't pull away, desperation overriding caution. "I'll help you find her. Or at least find out what happened. I promise you that."
He looked up at me then, ice-blue eyes swimming with tears he refused to shed. "Why? You don't know me, don't know her. Why would you risk this?"
Because I understand being alone. Because I know what it's like to lose the only person who ever showed you kindness. Because if there's even a chance that your Sophia and my hypothetical kin are connected, I have to try.
But I said none of that. Instead, I squeezed his shoulder gently. "Because she matters to you. And because finding the truth about those ruins matters to all of us."
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Elwin reached into his jacket with trembling hands, producing a silver locket on a delicate chain. He opened it, and a holographic image sprang to life—a woman in her mid-twenties with platinum blonde hair that cascaded like a waterfall down her back, so long it would have brushed her hips. Her eyes were a deep, startling purple, like amethyst catching northern lights, set in a face so perfectly proportioned it seemed almost unreal.
But it was the mark on her neck that made my breath catch—a silver tracery that wound from just below her ear down to her collarbone, too deliberate to be a scar, too organic to be a tattoo. Royal bloodline marker. The kind Genesis had tried and failed to replicate in their labs, the kind that supposedly died out with the fall of the Moon Courts.
"Sophia Moonwhisper," Elwin said softly, voice thick with emotion. "Last of her house, descendant of the elf-kings. She doesn't smile much, speaks quietly, plays the harp under moonlight." His fingers traced the hologram's edge with something like reverence. "She's gentle with all living things, but anyone who threatens our people... she shows no mercy."
I stared at that unfamiliar face, and something in my chest tightened painfully. Not recognition, but resonance. I thought of Selene, vanished into Genesis's maw. I thought of every elf who'd fought and died in shadows, carrying the weight of a dying race on their shoulders. Watchers, all of them. Guardians of a future that might never come.
"She looks like someone worth saving," I murmured, my voice rougher than I intended.
Elwin's answering smile was watery but genuine. "She is. She really is."