Chapter 13: Elaris, City of Masks
The city of Elaris shimmered like a mirage between the old world and the new. Stone towers kissed the clouds while neon lights flickered between ancient gargoyles. Cars rumbled across cobbled roads where once horses tread, and airships floated above, silent as whispers.
This was neutral ground. A place where blood feuds paused—but never healed.
And now… it was Elara's new prison.
A Cage of Glass
Her Council-issued home overlooked the northern bay. Luxurious, sterile, monitored. Each mirror enchanted. Every window spelled to alert the Watchers if she tried to escape.
Elara stood by the glass and pressed her fingers to the pane.
"I'm still trapped," she murmured, "just with a prettier view."
The Masked Ones
Within hours, word of her arrival had spread. She was summoned to the Court of Illusions, where neutral houses gathered behind enchanted masks—faces hidden, motives worse.
There, Elara met a new threat.
A masked woman, wearing a crescent-moon mask edged in obsidian, stepped forward.
"Elara Voss," the woman said, her voice thick with venomous charm. "You carry the mark of the Council and the scent of prophecy."
"I don't bow," Elara replied coldly. "Not to people who hide their faces."
The crowd gasped.
Laughter followed—low and dangerous.
"Oh, darling," the woman whispered, circling her. "Neither do I. That's why I run this city."
The Wolf and the Fang
Outside the city gates, Kael stalked the shadows. He had defied the Council's travel ban, risking everything to be close.
Lucien was already inside. Officially.
He wore noble silks, smiled for the guards, and whispered promises to lords and baronesses. But each night, he watched Elara's window from afar.
Neither had spoken to her yet.
Neither knew how to.
And both knew that soon… they would have to choose.
The Spark of Rebellion
Deep below Elaris, in the Sunken Archives, a group of rogue witches gathered. At their center: the woman with the crescent mask.
She tossed Elara's stolen blood sample onto the altar.
"The girl is becoming unstable," she hissed. "Just as the old gods predicted. It's time to awaken the Blade."
From the shadows, a massive figure emerged—his eyes white with void, skin cracked like obsidian.
The Hunter King had returned.