Chapter 3

“You expect us to just follow you?” Kael said. “We don’t know you. We don’t know where you’re taking us.”

Thorne didn’t lower his hand. “You know the shadows are breaking through. You know the book in her satchel is a beacon. And you know, Kael, that you are running out of time.” His gaze dropped to the wound on Kael’s shoulder, still seeping blood through the handkerchief. “The vial I gave you—drink it, or you’ll be too weak to stand soon.”

Kael looked at the crystalline vial in his other hand. He uncorked it, sniffed, then tossed back the liquid with a grimace. A faint shimmer spread across his skin, and the bleeding stopped. He let out a breath. “Fine. It works. That doesn’t mean I trust you.”

“Trust is earned,” Thorne said. “But the shadows won’t wait for you to make up your mind.” He pointed to the crack. A tendril of darkness was already reaching toward the centre of the room, hissing as it touched the rune. The mosaic flared once, weakly.

Elara made her decision. She had spent her life cataloguing facts, weighing evidence, making careful choices. This wasn’t careful. But the facts were stacked against staying here. She stood, gripping her satchel. “We go with him.”

Kael looked at her, startled. “Elara—”

“I know it’s risky,” she said, cutting him off. “But if he’s telling the truth, we need his help. If he’s lying, we can figure that out later. Right now, the only way out that doesn’t end with us being swallowed by shadows is through that door.”

Kael searched her face, then nodded, a flicker of something like respect in his eyes. He climbed to his feet, still unsteady, and placed himself beside her.

Thorne turned and walked out of the reading room, his staff tapping against the stone floor. The shadows parted for him like water around a stone. Elara and Kael followed, staying close to his heels.

The corridor beyond was dark, but Thorne’s staff glowed with a soft silver light that pushed the shadows back. They moved quickly, passing collapsed shelves and shattered windows. The library was a ruin. Elara tried not to think about the manuscripts she would never finish reading.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Somewhere the shadows cannot follow,” Thorne said. “A place I built long ago, for moments like this.”

They turned down a narrow passage she had never seen before, though she thought she knew every corner of this library. The walls were lined with symbols—runes, similar to the one on the floor of the reading room. They pulsed faintly as they passed.

Kael stumbled, and Elara caught his arm. He was still pale, despite the healing draft. She felt the heat of his skin through his sleeve, and she didn’t let go.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

“For what?”

“For not leaving me back there. For believing me, even a little.”

She glanced at him. His eyes were dark, serious. “I don’t believe you completely,” she said. “But I believe what I saw. The shadows, the portal—that was real. I can’t explain it with my books. So for now, I trust the evidence.”

He gave a weak smile. “Even if the evidence walks and talks and bleeds?”

“Especially then.”

They walked in silence for a moment, the only sounds their footsteps and Thorne’s staff. Elara felt the weight of the book in her satchel, a constant reminder of how far she was from her normal life.

“What did you steal?” she asked suddenly.

Kael’s step faltered. “I told you. The book.”

“You said the book was the key. But you didn’t just steal it. You said you were trying to stop someone from stealing it. Who?”

He was quiet for so long she thought he wouldn’t answer. Then he said, “The Shadow Weaver is a name, but also a title. The one who holds it now is ancient. She was once something else—a keeper of balance. But she grew tired of watching the realms stay separate. She wanted to merge them, under her control. The celestial artifact is the only thing that can either unite or destroy the worlds, depending on how it’s used. She’s been hunting it for centuries. I found a map. She found me.”

“How did you get the map?”

He didn’t answer. His jaw tightened.

They emerged into a round room with a domed ceiling painted with stars. A single table stood in the centre, covered in rolled scrolls and strange instruments. Thorne was already there, lighting candles with a wave of his hand.

“This is my study,” he said. “Safe, for now. Sit.”

Elara helped Kael into a chair. He slumped forward, exhaustion finally catching up to him. She took the seat across from him.

Thorne spread a scroll across the table. It was old, brittle, covered in a script Elara didn’t recognize. “The celestial artifact is not a thing you can hold,” he said. “It is a convergence point. A place where the barriers between realms are thin. The Shadow Weaver wants to break those barriers entirely. But to do so, she needs three things: the key—that book—a willing conduit, and a sacrifice."

Kael stiffened. “A sacrifice.”

“Yes.” Thorne’s eyes were weary. “She intends to use you, Kael. Your connection to magic makes you the perfect conduit. And the sacrifice…” He paused. “It must be someone who is neither fully of magic nor fully of the mundane. Someone like Elara.”

Elara’s heart stopped. “Me?”

“Her plan is to force you both to the convergence point. She will use the book to open the way. Kael will be the bridge. And you, Elara, will be the price.”

Kael was on his feet, anger flashing in his eyes. “Then we don’t go. We hide the book. We—”

“She will find it,” Thorne said. “The only way to stop her is to reach the convergence first and use the artifact to seal the barriers permanently. That will require both of you—and the book.”

Elara’s hands trembled, but she forced her voice steady. “How do we get there?”

Thorne pointed to the scroll. “There is a path through the tunnels beneath the library. It ends at the Veilwood, the forest between realms. But the shadows are already spreading. We have until the next new moon before they find the convergence on their own.”

“That’s only a week,” Kael said.

“Yes.” Thorne looked at them, his expression unreadable. “I will guide you as far as I can. But the final choice—whether to trust each other, to face the Shadow Weaver together—that will be yours alone.”

Kael turned to Elara. His eyes were dark, fierce, but there was something else beneath the anger—fear. Not of the shadows, but of losing her. She saw it clearly.

“We do this together,” he said. “Or not at all.”

She held his gaze. “Together.”

A crash echoed from somewhere above them. Dust sifted down from the ceiling. Thorne’s face tightened. “They have found the library. We must leave now.”

He rolled the scroll and pressed it into Elara’s hands. “Keep this with the book. They are now bound to you.”

Kael grabbed her wrist. “Ready?”

She nodded, though her heart hammered.

Thorne led them to a door hidden behind a tapestry. It opened onto a dark stairwell spiralling downward. The air smelled of earth and old stone.

“Follow close,” he said, and stepped through.

Elara followed, Kael’s hand tight around hers.

The door slammed shut behind them, plunging them into darkness.

And then, from the top of the stairs, a voice—low, smooth, feminine—drifted down: “You cannot hide forever, little thief. The book calls to me. And I will have what is mine.”