Chapter 10
The Moonspire Tower stood on the edge of Dravencourt's lands—long abandoned, rumored to be cursed, and forgotten by most. Once a part of the old fortresses that lined the northern border, now it was a place children were warned not to wander near.
But tonight, Elira entered its shadow willingly.
She wore no gown, no jewels. Just a black cloak that clung to her like smoke and silence. A single dagger was strapped beneath her sleeve—not for defense, but for certainty. If the night turned, she would not die again without blood on her blade.
She stepped through the broken archway, her boots echoing over the cracked marble floor. Vines crept through shattered windows, and the air was cold with memories.
He was already there.
Thorne Drestin stood in the center of the chamber, facing the shattered stained-glass window that once looked out toward the eastern mountains. He held two glasses of wine—one already sipped.
"I wasn't sure you'd come," he said, his voice laced with old charm.
"I told you I would," she replied. "I keep my word."
"Do you?" He turned, offering her the untouched glass. She didn't move. "Ah. Still don't trust me."
"I died trusting you," she said. "I don't make the same mistake twice."
Thorne sighed, as if wounded. "You act like I killed you myself."
"You didn't need to," she said. "You just held the door open."
For a brief moment, the mask cracked. He looked away, jaw tight. Then he spoke again, his tone quieter.
"Elira—Eliendara—do you even know what you are?"
She said nothing.
Thorne stepped closer. "You think the Vexleys made you to inherit a name. To marry. To die. But that wasn't your purpose. You were created."
Elira's blood ran cold.
"Created?"
He nodded. "A ritual. Forbidden. One that called something ancient into this world and gave it a vessel. A girl-child born under seven eclipses. Not meant to live. Not meant to die."
She stared at him, heart pounding.
"You're lying."
"I was there," Thorne said. "Not by choice, but by blood. The nobles needed someone to anchor the pact—a soul-tied witness. That was me."
Elira took a step back, as if space could undo the truth.
"You're saying… I wasn't born?"
"You were summoned," Thorne said softly. "And when they saw what you might become… they tried to erase you. First, by sealing your magic. Then, by killing the identity they gave you."
She clenched her fists. "And you let them."
"I protected you," he hissed. "I fought to spare you. But they made a choice. And I obeyed—because I was weak."
His eyes searched hers. "But I can help you now. There's still time. The power they sealed is waking again. That reflection you saw? That wasn't madness. It was memory."
He stepped forward, dropping the mask from his face.
The man beneath was older, sharper, guilt written in the lines around his eyes.
"Come with me," he whispered. "Let me help you remember everything. I can fix what we broke."
Elira stared at him for a long, silent moment.
Then she reached into her sleeve—and drew the dagger.
"You can't fix what you never truly loved," she said coldly.
She turned and walked away.
Behind her, Thorne didn't follow. But his final words echoed behind her like a ghost clinging to bone.
"You're not just reborn, Eliendara.You were never meant to be human."
🔮 Next Chapter Preview – Chapter 11: Her Soul, Unsealed
As dawn breaks, Kael finds Elira standing beneath the bleeding sky—eyes glowing faintly, fingers shaking with power that doesn't belong to mortals.
The seal is breaking.
And something inside her wants to be free.