Chapter 69 Elena Heart- POV
‘What if Grace was already playing me from the very start, after all, I was just their pawn, my parents were just pawns.’
When we finally reached the inn, the silence of my room was a relief, but a hollow one. I stripped out of the red dress, the dress that had been a shroud in another life—and lay in the dark, my fingers tracing the spot on my arm where the runic symbols had burned into my skin before the jump back.
I fell into a restless sleep, and the dream found me instantly.
I was back on the Spire, but it was different. The purple rift was there, pulsing like a wound in the sky, but Xavier wasn't a small lizard.
He was a King made of obsidian and starlight, his wings casting a shadow over the entire city. He looked down at me, his amber eyes no longer full of disappointment, but burning with a fierce, protective light.
"The root, Elena," his voice echoed, not from the sky, but from inside my own chest. "The root of the betrayal is not just in the palace. Look to the church. Look to the cellar of the Spire. Remember what was hidden before the first crown was forged."
I reached out for him, my fingers brushing the heat of his scales, but he began to fade into a violet mist.
"Shield the anchor," he whispered. "Or the Titans will not just destroy the world—they will claim it."
I woke up gasping, my skin slick with cold sweat. The moonlight was streaming through the window, illuminating the empty room. My heart was thundering.
I didn't just have to save Xavier from a blade in the back. I had to save him from a cosmic horror that the traitors were unwittingly inviting in.
Grace thought she was playing for a throne; she didn't realize she was opening the door for the end of time.
I sat up and looked at my reflection in the dim mirror. The girl who had cried in the garden was gone. The merchant of Oakhaven was gone.
"I won't let you die this time," I whispered to the empty air.
I had to get back into the palace. I had to find what was under the Spire. And most of all, I had to find a way to tell the King that his "Dark" persona wasn't the only shadow in this kingdom—and that the only person he could trust was the assassin sent to kill him.
The morning sun crawled through the window of the inn, but it brought no warmth. I sat at the small wooden table, watching the steam rise from my tea, my mind a battlefield of timelines.
Grace was gone. She hadn't appeared for her usual "morning report," and I knew exactly why.
She wasn't at the guild; she was likely in a humid, candle-lit backroom with Leo and the others, mapping out the next phase of the coup. They were vultures, circling a King they thought was weak, and using me and my family as the bait.
My heart gave a sudden, painful thud as I realized the date. My parents.
In this timeline, they were still alive. They were still in the village, breathing, laughing, oblivious to the fact that their daughter had watched them perish in the hand of their supposed trusted Grace.
In the first life, Grace had manipulated them into coming to the capital "for my safety," only to use them as leverage to keep me in line.
I wouldn't let it happen again.
I forced myself to eat a few bites of bread, though it tasted like sawdust. I dressed quickly in my commoner’s traveling gear—sturdy leather and a hooded cloak, and slipped out into the busy morning streets of the capital.
The city was waking up, merchants calling out their wares, the smell of fresh baked goods filling the air. It looked so peaceful. It was a lie.
I made my way to the Merchant’s Guild, pushing through the crowd of traders and couriers. I didn't go to the main desk. I sought out a specialized dealer in the back corner, a man who dealt in high-grade magical communication scrolls.
"A long-distance seal," I said, dropping a heavy purse of gold on the counter. "Encoded. To the Oakhaven outskirts."
The merchant raised an eyebrow but took the gold. He handed me a scroll of fine, translucent parchment that hummed with a faint blue light.
I stepped into a private alcove and began to write, my hand trembling slightly. I didn't have much time, and I couldn't be too specific in case the message was intercepted, but I knew my father. He would read between the lines.
Father,
The weather in the capital has turned cold and dangerous. Do not trust the winds. I have discovered a rot within the REBEL—a traitor hides among the rebels. I found the proof last night.
Listen to me carefully: Do not leave the village. If you receive a summon, a letter, or a message claiming I am in danger or that you are needed in the capital, ignore it. It is a trap meant to cage us all. Stay in the forest, keep your blades sharp, and trust no one who wears the guild's mark.
I am the shield now. Wait for my word.
I pressed my thumb against the wax seal, infusing it with a drop of my own mana. The scroll flared violet, a brief, haunting echo of the core I had swallowed, and then vanished into thin air, destined for the small cottage in the North.
I leaned against the wall of the alcove, a wave of relief washing over me. They were warned. If I could keep them out of the capital, I would take away the only leash Grace had over me.
Now, I was a free agent.
As I walked out of the guild, my eyes turned toward the Spire looming over the palace. The message to my father was only the first step. I had protected my past; now I had to secure the future.
I needed to see Xavier again. I needed to know if my "story" in the garden had sparked the fire I intended, or if the King was still sleeping behind the mask of a guard.