Chapter 108
Chapter 108
Elizabeth
The little girl’s smile vanished.
For the first time since we’d arrived, she looked afraid.
Not of me.
Not of the crowd.
Of Damon.
The realization sent a chill through me.
The street had gone completely silent.
The crowd stood motionless on either side of the path leading to the church.
Watching.
Waiting.
The little girl’s blue eyes remained fixed on Damon.
Then she took a step backward.
A small step.
But I noticed it.
So did everyone else.
Lucien raised an eyebrow.
“Well.”
Nobody looked at him.
“I don’t think she likes you.”
Damon’s expression didn’t change.
“I’m devastated.”
The little girl ignored him.
Her attention shifted back to me.
“The Door enters alone.”
Immediately—
“No.”
Damon’s answer came so quickly that it almost overlapped her words.
The little girl frowned.
“The Door enters alone.”
“No.”
She blinked.
“No one has ever said no to me before.”
Lucien looked delighted.
“Welcome to meeting Damon.”
Adam pinched the bridge of his nose.
I was beginning to think he did that a lot.
The little girl pointed at me again.
“The Door enters.”
Then she pointed at Damon.
“The King remains.”
Silence.
I swallowed.
Well.
That wasn’t suspicious at all.
The mark on my hand pulsed.
Once.
Twice.
Then settled.
The church seemed to be watching us.
I knew how ridiculous that sounded.
And yet—
I couldn’t shake the feeling.
The open doorway felt alive.
Waiting for a choice.
Waiting for me.
Damon looked toward the church.
Then at the crowd.
Then back at the little girl.
“You keep calling me king.”
The little girl tilted her head.
“You are.”
“News to me.”
The girl looked genuinely confused.
Which somehow made the situation even stranger.
Lucien leaned toward me.
“See? This is why I prefer ordinary murder attempts.”
I almost laughed.
Almost.
The little girl pointed toward the church again.
“The gate opens soon.”
Silence.
“Then tell us what’s inside,” Adam said.
The girl smiled faintly.
“You already know.”
Nobody did.
Not even slightly.
Tristan stepped forward.
“What happens if she enters?”
The girl’s expression became serious.
“She remembers.”
The crowd murmured softly.
Remembers.
Remembers.
Remembers.
I hated that word.
More and more every day.
Because every time I remembered something, my life became worse.
The little girl looked at me.
“You’ve forgotten too much.”
I folded my arms.
“That’s not exactly my fault.”
To my surprise, she smiled.
A real smile.
Small.
Understanding.
“No.”
The answer was gentle.
“None of this is.”
For a moment, I didn’t know what to say.
The crowd remained silent.
The church stood waiting.
The little girl suddenly looked sad.
“You were never meant to carry it alone.”
My stomach tightened.
Something about those words hurt.
Though I wasn’t entirely sure why.
Then—
The church bell rang.
Once.
The sound echoed across the sleeping city.
The little girl’s expression changed instantly.
Urgent.
Alarmed.
“It’s opening.”
The mark on my hand flared.
Pain shot through my palm.
I gasped.
The crowd stepped backward simultaneously.
Every single person.
As one.
Like a wave pulling away from shore.
The little girl looked at me.
“Go.”
Damon stepped forward.
“No.”
She looked frustrated now.
Actually frustrated.
“The Door must enter.”
“Not alone.”
The little girl’s eyes flashed.
For one brief second, she didn’t look like a child at all.
She looked ancient.
Older than the city.
Older than the church.
Older than memory.
“The King cannot cross the threshold.”
The church bell rang again.
Louder.
The open doorway darkened.
The shadows inside shifted.
Something moved.
My breath caught.
I wasn’t the only one who saw it.
Adam immediately straightened.
Tristan’s expression hardened.
Lucien stopped joking.
Which was probably the most concerning thing that had happened all night.
The little girl pointed toward the doorway.
“Choose.”
Silence.
The mark on my hand burned again.
And suddenly—
I heard it.
Not a voice.
Not a whisper.
A heartbeat.
Slow.
Massive.
Ancient.
Coming from inside the church.
Boom.
The sound echoed through my bones.
Boom.
Again.
The crowd lowered their heads.
Boom.
The stained-glass windows trembled.
I looked at Damon.
He’d heard it too.
Everyone had.
The little girl’s voice became urgent.
“Elizabeth.”
The use of my name startled me.
“Go.”
I looked toward the doorway.
Then back at Damon.
Then back again.
Every instinct told me this was a terrible idea.
Unfortunately, my instincts and supernatural destiny rarely agreed.
The heartbeat sounded again.
Boom.
Closer.
Stronger.
Waiting.
Damon stepped beside me.
Immediately.
Protectively.
Like it was the most natural thing in the world.
I tried not to notice.
Failed.
Spectacularly.
His silver eyes remained fixed on the church.
“What are you feeling?”
I blinked.
“What?”
“The mark.”
I looked down.
The symbol glowed beneath my skin.
Gold.
Warm.
Alive.
“It’s pulling me.”
The words slipped out before I could stop them.
Damon’s jaw tightened.
That wasn’t the reaction of someone who liked hearing that.
The little girl nodded.
“Because it recognizes home.”
Silence.
Home.
That word again.
My chest tightened.
I looked at the church.
At the darkness waiting beyond the entrance.
Home.
No.
That couldn’t be right.
Could it?
I had never been here before.
The little girl looked at me sadly.
As though she knew exactly what I was thinking.
Then she whispered:
“You’ve been here many times.”
The world seemed to stop.
No.
No.
I didn’t like that at all.
Before I could respond, the church bell rang a third time.
The sound exploded through the street.
The doorway flashed gold.
Everyone jumped.
Then—
The darkness inside the church peeled back.
Like a curtain.
Revealing something beyond.
Stone stairs.
Leading downward.
Deep beneath the church.
The crowd collectively inhaled.
The little girl smiled.
Not happily.
Relieved.
“It’s open.”
Silence.
I stared at the stairs.
My pulse thundered.
The mark on my hand glowed brighter.
The heartbeat below grew stronger.
Boom.
Boom.
Boom.
Waiting.
Calling.
The little girl looked at me.
“The Door enters.”
I swallowed.
Then looked at Damon.
His expression was unreadable.
Dangerously unreadable.
Which meant he was thinking.
And whenever Damon started thinking, trouble usually followed.
I narrowed my eyes.
“You are absolutely planning something.”
A tiny smile appeared.
There it was.
The smile that usually meant disaster.
“Perhaps.”
“Don’t.”
“What?”
I pointed at him.
“That face.”
“What face?”
“That face.”
To my complete annoyance, the smile widened.
Lucien made a choking sound behind us.
Adam looked away.
Traitor.
The little girl, however, wasn’t amused.
She looked frightened again.
And this time she wasn’t looking at the church.
She was looking at Damon.
Then she whispered five words.
Five words that erased every trace of humor from the street.
“He has already arrived.”
Silence.
My stomach dropped.
Because she wasn’t looking at the church.