The door groaned shut behind them, sealing off the howl of the wind. The air inside the tower was still, thick with the scent of burning sage and old stone. Light came from no source Elara could see, but the room glowed faintly, like the stones themselves remembered fire.
Kaelen stood beside her, one hand hovering near his sword. The woman who had opened the door—the Oracle—moved with unnatural grace across the stone floor, her cloak whispering like smoke. She didn't speak until she reached the center of the chamber, where a circle of runes was etched into the ground.
"Sit," she said.
Kaelen didn't move.
Elara stepped forward. "You know who we are."
"I know what you carry," the Oracle replied, eyes fixed on Elara's wrist, where the mark still glowed faintly. "The Curse of Tethered Hearts. Older than your kingdom. Older than the gods who tried to bury it."
Kaelen frowned. "What do you mean, tethered?"
The Oracle looked at him, her clouded gaze piercing. "Your fates are bound. The moment love takes root in one heart, the other becomes its grave."
A silence fell between them.
Elara's throat tightened. "So it's true."
"Yes. And no." The Oracle knelt, tracing the runes with a finger. "It is a curse of love, yes—but love is not its only key. There are pieces of it that have been lost. Pieces that were hidden. If you wish to survive, you must find them."
Kaelen crossed his arms. "Where?"
"First, the truth must be seen."
The runes around them began to glow. A pulse of cold ran through Elara's spine as the floor beneath them shifted. Not physically—but in memory.
Images rose from the stone like mist: a man in silver robes, cradling a dying woman. A battlefield soaked in blood. A healer screaming as flames consumed a temple.
Elara watched, frozen.
"These are echoes of the curse's origin," the Oracle whispered. "It was never meant for you. It was born of betrayal, of a prince who defied his fate and a healer who gave too much."
Kaelen's brows furrowed. "A prince?"
Elara turned to him, heart pounding. "You think it's us."
The Oracle looked between them. "Perhaps. Or perhaps you are the ones who will end it."
The mist began to fade.
"There is a relic," she said. "A shard of the Heart Mirror. It holds the memory of the first binding. With it, you may uncover the curse's name—its true name. Speak it, and the tether may be broken."
Elara's voice shook. "Where is it?"
"In the Forest of Hollow Winds. Buried in the ruins of what once was the Sanctuary of Light. But beware—the Hollowborn guard it now. Twisted things. Lost souls. Drawn to love and pain."
Kaelen stepped forward. "We've fought worse."
The Oracle's eyes narrowed. "You have not fought yourself."
Her hand rose, and she touched Elara's brow.
A flash of light blinded her.
And then—
She stood in a different place.
Snow fell, but the sky above was fire. Kaelen knelt before her, bleeding, shaking. "Don't," he begged. "Elara, please—don't do this."
"I have to," she said. "You'll die otherwise."
"Then let me die," he said. "Better that than lose you."
Tears blurred her vision. Her hands were stained with blood. The curse roared in her veins.
"I love you," she whispered.
And then everything shattered.
Elara gasped and fell backward, panting.
The Oracle looked down at her. "That is one path. But the future is never set."
Kaelen helped her to her feet, his hand warm, grounding. "Are you alright?"
"No," she breathed. "But I saw it. You. Me. I tried to break the curse, but it took everything."
The Oracle stepped back. "You must make a choice. Seek the shard—and face the Hollowborn. Or flee, and let the curse take its course."
Kaelen answered without hesitation. "We go."
Elara hesitated.
The Oracle turned to her. "You fear love, healer. But fear will not save him."
Elara looked at Kaelen—and in that moment, she knew: she couldn't watch him die. Not because she feared heartbreak.
But because she had already begun to love him.
"I'll go," she said quietly. "Whatever it takes."
The next day, they left Winterhold at dawn.
The Oracle gave them a map—ancient and half-faded—and a vial of moon ash, to reveal truth in shadow. The journey south would take five days through the Wildreach Pass and into the Hollow Winds.
Five days of storm, rock, and silence.
Kaelen walked beside her most of the time. Occasionally ahead. Rarely behind.
They didn't speak often.
But the silence between them was no longer awkward—it pulsed with something unspoken. Shared pain. Shared purpose. And something else neither dared name.
On the third night, they camped beneath a canopy of frost-covered trees. The fire crackled quietly. Elara sat sharpening a small blade—one she hadn't needed before Kaelen.
He watched her. "You've changed."
She glanced up. "That's not necessarily a compliment."
"It wasn't meant to be an insult."
She gave a soft smile. "I know. I just… never imagined any of this."
Kaelen's voice was low. "Do you regret helping me?"
"No," she said without hesitation. "I only regret how much it's cost."
"Me too," he said. "But I'm not sorry we met."
She stilled. Her pulse quickened.
Neither spoke after that.
But she could feel the words that hung between them, unsaid.
On the fifth day, the winds changed.
They reached the border of the Hollow Winds by dusk. The land there was different—quiet in a way that made your bones ache. The trees were stripped bare, their branches reaching like claws. The ground was littered with pale bones, half-sunk into frostbitten moss.
Elara shivered.
"We go on foot from here," Kaelen said. "No torches."
She nodded. "Let me lead. If we're close to the sanctuary, I'll feel it."
He hesitated, then handed her the map. "Stay close."
The darkness closed around them like a mouth.
Every sound echoed louder here. Every breath, every step. Elara kept her senses open, but her magic felt strange—muted, stretched. The curse still pulsed faintly, but the forest seemed to drink it in, as if feeding off her fear.
Then—
She felt it.
Magic.
A pulse beneath the earth, ancient and bitter. She turned left, down a slope of tangled roots. Kaelen followed silently.
The trees parted—and the ruins rose before them.
A shattered temple, half-buried in ash and stone. Statues lay broken. The altar was cracked. But in the center, beneath a beam of ghost-light, floated a single shard of glass.
The Heart Mirror.
They stepped forward.
And the ground screamed.
The Hollowborn came like smoke—shadows with faces, crawling, whispering. Dozens. Hundreds. They moved like memory. Like sorrow. Their voices pierced the air with sobs and laughter.
Kaelen drew his sword.
Elara stood frozen.
One of the Hollowborn drifted toward her. It had no mouth, but she could hear it.
"Elara..."
It wore her face.
She stumbled back. "No—no—"
Kaelen leapt between them, slashing through the shade—but it reformed instantly.
"They're illusions," Elara gasped. "They're made from pain."
"Then stop hurting," Kaelen snarled.
She reached into her satchel—pulled the moon ash. Her hands shook, but she poured it in a circle around the shard.
"Say its name," the whisper said.
Elara turned, heart pounding. "What name?"
The shard pulsed.
Kaelen shouted. "Elara! Now!"
Her mind whirled. The vision. The Oracle. The prince who defied fate. The healer who gave too much.
Their names had been lost.
But she had one word.
"Atherin!"
The name struck the air like lightning. The ground cracked. Light poured from the shard—blinding, burning.
The Hollowborn screamed.
Then silence.
When Elara opened her eyes, the forest was still.
Kaelen stood beside her, his face pale, blood on his lip—but alive.
She reached out, trembling. "Are you—?"
He pulled her into his arms.
"I'm here," he whispered. "I'm here."
The shard hovered between them, glowing softly. In its reflection, she saw not herself—but the healer of the past, the one who had started it all.
And the prince who had loved her.
Kaelen saw them too.
"We've been here before," he said quietly.
"Yes," Elara whispered. "But maybe this time… we end it."
End of the chapter -6