Cole was preying on Lara.
And so far, he was doing a damn good job pulling her deeper into his web.
She wasn't just blind to what he was, she refused to see it.
She had chosen him.
Over me. Over the truth. Over everything we had been to each other.
And after this morning, she had made it painfully clear.
If I dare stand in her way, she's blasting me into the next life.
A hollow feeling settled in my chest.
Lara's choices were hers to make.
And if she didn't want saving, I wouldn't waste my breath trying.
I let out a dry snort at that thought. Who am I even kidding?
All I had to save her, was the truth.
But truth meant nothing in a fight against something as powerful as Cole.
I didn't have magic.
I didn't have anything that could match him and his friends.
Lara, on the other hand, had just risen to her full power.
She was one of the most powerful Elites in Elarion.
She could hold her own.
Which meant she was the least of my worries. For now.
I was more concerned about Cole's bigger plan. What else was he looking for in Elarion?
Because it sure as hell wasn't just the power he thought Lara possessed.
It was more.
He wasn't just lurking in the shadows, waiting.
He was scouting.
Searching. Tracking.
And he wasn't doing it blindly.
A creeping unease settled over me as I flipped back through my notes, my pen tapping absently against the journal.
He was looking for something or maybe someone.
And if the places where I felt his eerie presence meant anything…
He was retracing his own steps.
Because one of those places was where he had been last— before he was banished to his realm.
The ruins.
He was never supposed to set foot in Elarion again.
Yet here he was.
And that meant something had changed.
There is only one person who could help me figure this out.
Guess it's time for some cooking lessons.
I got dressed in record time, careful to wear long sleeves and jeans, making sure to cover the angry red lashes still marking my body.
Tank tops, crop tops, and shorts? Off the table for a while.
Plugging in my earbuds, I scrolled through my playlist and chose a song to kick-start my long walk toward North Lowmere central.
The opening chords of All Fall Down by OneRepublic filtered through my ears, the steady beat matching the rhythm of my steps.
The morning air was crisp but charged, magic humming beneath the surface of the city, a constant reminder of the power that pulsed through Lysoria.
I moved through the sleek, towering structures, past the ornate sigil-lit pathways, where enchanted lanterns still flickered despite the rising sun.
The city of the elite. Polished. Controlled.
It wasn't until I crossed the dividing bridge into Lowmere that the air felt different, less restrained, more alive.
The energy here wasn't woven into pristine streets and carefully measured wards. It crackled, untamed, slipping through the cracks like an unspoken truth.
More than half an hour later, I finally stepped through the doors of Safyrr's small, cozy restaurant.
The scent of warm spices, fresh herbs, and something distinctly Safyrr wrapped around me, instantly comforting yet awakening my senses.
The place was quiet, peaceful, the early hours leaving only a few patrons enjoying their meals beneath the dim golden glow of enchanted lanterns.
I made my way toward the counter, my mind already sorting through how to bring up the real reason I was here without making it obvious.
But before I could even open my mouth, an apron landed in my arms.
I blinked.
Safyrr stepped out of the kitchen, her silver-lined tattoos faintly glowing, a knowing glint in her eyes as she wiped her hands on a cloth.
"C'mon, young lady, you have so much to learn today."
I stared at her for a second.
Did this woman have psychic powers or what?
Not that it should have surprised me, Safyrr had a way of knowing things without being told.
Technically, I had come here to learn cooking. That part wasn't a lie.
But we both knew that wasn't my only reason. I also needed answers.
I let out a slow breath before slipping the apron over my head. Might as well play along.
"Alright," I muttered, tying the strings around my waist. "But don't expect miracles."
Safyrr chuckled, the soft hum of fae energy brushing against my skin as she motioned for me to follow. "Oh, don't worry. I don't."
I followed her inside, the warmth of the kitchen wrapping around me. The air was thick with the rich scent of crushed herbs, simmering broth, and something distinctly Safyrr, earthy, bold, with a touch of spice.
The shelves were lined with magical ingredients, each one labeled in precise handwriting. Jars of duskroot, ember salt, and shadow basil sat alongside fresher ingredients, spotted fireberries, golden thyme, and frost-leaf sprigs, still faintly dusted with morning dew.
But despite the presence of enchanted ingredients, Safyrr's method of cooking was grounded in tradition.
No levitating pots, no whispered spells. Just a blade, a steady hand, and a fire burning low beneath a cast-iron cauldron.
She gestured toward the wooden cutting board, where fresh veggies and herbs sat waiting.
"Chop these. Evenly. And don't mangle the golden thyme, it gets bitter when bruised."
I picked up the knife and got to work, my movements careful, precise. At least cooking was something I could control.
For a while, we worked in comfortable silence, the only sounds filling the kitchen were the rhythmic chopping of my knife, the gentle bubbling of the stew, and the occasional clatter of utensils against wood.
Then, Safyrr spoke.
"You're not just here for cooking lessons, are you?"
I paused mid-cut, the blade hovering just above the cutting board.
She didn't look at me.
She didn't need to.
She just kept stirring the pot, her posture casual, her voice too light.
"Figured as much," she said, tossing a handful of diced ember onions into the broth. "You've been tense since you walked in. And you didn't even ask what we're making."
Damn it.
I exhaled, setting the knife down. "Am I really that obvious?"
Safyrr finally turned to face me, arching a brow. "To most? No. To me? Yes."
The glow of her silver tattoos flickered for a split second, as if sensing the tension I hadn't realized I was carrying.
I hesitated before meeting her gaze.
"I need answers, Safyrr."
She studied me for a long moment. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, she plucked a sprig of golden thyme from the pile and rolled it between her fingers.
"Alright then," she said. "Start talking."
I kept my eyes on the cutting board, my blade slicing through the vegetables in even, controlled movements.
"What should we talk about first?" I asked lightly. "You haven't even told me what we're making."
Safyrr huffed a quiet laugh. "Deflecting, are we?" She dropped a pinch of ember salt into the broth, watching it dissolve with a sizzle. "Fine. We're making spiced duskroot stew. And you're stalling."
I pressed my lips together.
Damn it. She was good.
Safyrr watched me, waiting.
I exhaled, pressing my palms against the counter, grounding myself before I spoke. "I know who the dark force is."
Her silver eyes flickered, but she said nothing, letting me continue.
"It's Cole," I said, the weight of the name settling between us. "The Noctari King."
This time, she didn't look surprised. She already knew.
I pushed forward and told Safyrr everything that happened, from Lara's birthday party till now. "Every sign, every piece of the puzzle… it all points to him."
"And when he couldn't find what he was looking for in me, he immediately assumed it was Lara."
Silence stretched between us, thick and unspoken.
I straightened. "Why?" My voice came out sharper than I intended. "Why is he after this power?"
Safyrr's gaze didn't waver. "It's not the power he's after, Athena."
That threw me off.
"What?"
She set down the spoon she had been holding, her movements slow, deliberate.
"You can't take someone's power away and make it your own. The leylines are there to maintain that balance. Your power is your identity."
The air around us seemed to still, as if the very kitchen was listening.
"What Cole is looking for…" she continued, "is what might be the last survivor of the most powerful tribe that has ever existed."
Her words slammed into me like a physical force.
I felt my breath hitch, my fingers gripping the edge of the counter. "And right now, he thinks it's my sister. Lara."
Safyrr's expression remained unreadable, but there was something softer in her eyes.
"Am I…?" I trailed off, unable to say it.
Safyrr nodded once. "You are."
A slow, cold weight settled in my chest.
"You were confided to Myrren to make sure you were never found."
I let that sink in, trying to grasp the enormity of it.
For so long, I had questioned who I was, why I was different, why I had nothing when everyone else had magic.
And now, here it was, a truth buried deeper than I could have imagined.
But there was something else, something that burned at the back of my mind.
I swallowed, looking up. "I read in Lara's history books that when Xavian banished Cole to his realm, the leylines connecting the Shadowlands and Elarion were altered to seal all passageways and portals between the two realms."
I met Safyrr's gaze. "So how did he end up here?"
Safyrr studied me, then exhaled. "After the Great Rift War, when the souls maintaining the leylines were eradicated, unstable rifts formed, gateways to dangerous, unknown places."
She leaned against the counter, crossing her arms. "I wouldn't be surprised if Cole made a deal with a dangerous entity to have a one-way ticket here."
"A one-way ticket?"
"Problem is, he can't go back to the Shadowlands. Not without a Noctari portal guardian."
A chill ran down my spine. "What do you mean?"
Safyrr's silver tattoos flickered slightly. "They are the only ones who can create a portal back to the Shadowlands. But it's been years since Shadowlands' portal guardian was killed to ensure Cole never returned again. And as far as anyone knows, no successor has ever been born to take his place."
Cole was stuck here.
And he was looking for a way back.
I forced myself to breathe. "So he's scouring Elarion, searching for something, loopholes, maybe, that might bring him back to the Shadowlands."
Safyrr nodded. "That's the most likely answer."
I hesitated, then asked the question that had been clawing at me since this started.
"Does that mean Lara is safe?"
Safyrr considered me for a moment. "Cole won't hurt her. He needs her."
"For what exactly?"
She shook her head. "I don't know."
That didn't sit well with me.
"But she's safe for now," Safyrr added, sensing my unease. "Lara is powerful. Her magic is rare and refined. Even the Council knows it. That's why Cole thinks she's the one he's looking for."
I swallowed hard. "And me?"
Safyrr's gaze darkened slightly. "He assaulted you to test you, Athena. When he saw that you bore the Ancient Rune, he became suspicious."
Her voice softened. "The Ancient Rune does not choose random people. It only marks those connected to lost and forgotten entities, ones with unfinished business."
A shudder ran through me.
My mind was racing, trying to piece everything together, but there was one thing that didn't add up.
I gripped the edge of the counter, my knuckles white. "There's something that doesn't make sense."
Safyrr glanced at me, waiting.
"Shouldn't it be obvious that I might be the last survivor of my race?" I asked, frowning. "I mean, I'm the one with no lineage. No parents. While Lara is Myrren' daughter. How come Cole had to even think twice?"
Safyrr went very still.
Too still.
She turned back to the stew, stirring it slowly, her expression unreadable.
A strange weight settled in my stomach.
Finally, she spoke. "There are so many things you don't know, Athena."
She turned back to me, her silver eyes meeting mine. "And it's not my place to tell you this."
I stiffened. That was never a good thing to hear.
Safyrr let out a slow breath, as if she was choosing her next words carefully.
"But since things have come to this… you need to know the truth."
A beat of silence.
Then, she said something that shattered everything I thought I knew.
"Lara is not Myrren' biological daughter."
The world tilted. The words slammed into me like a physical force.
I stared at Safyrr, my lips parting, but no sound came out.
I must have misheard. I had to have misheard.
"What?" My voice came out hoarse. "That- that's not possible."
Safyrr didn't flinch. "It's the truth."
I swallowed, shaking my head. "No. No, Lara has been Myrren' daughter my whole life. Everyone knows that. There's no way..."
"Everyone knows what they were meant to know."
Her words settled between us, thick with unspoken meaning.
My pulse hammered in my ears.
If Lara wasn't Myrren' real daughter…
Then who was she? And more importantly, why had this been kept a secret?
Safyrr sighed, her silver eyes gentler now, as if she could feel the storm raging inside me.
"I know this is a lot to take in. And I'm sure you have a thousand questions."
She hesitated, then shook her head.
"But I can't tell you more. I'll let Myrren explain when she's ready."
I clenched my fists, frustration bubbling beneath my skin, but before I could protest, Safyrr spoke again.
"Trust me, Athena. She has lost more than you think."
Safyrr stirred the stew absently, her voice quieter now, almost distant.
"It's not that people want to keep secrets… sometimes, burying the past is the only way for them to move forward. Saying it aloud means tearing open wounds that never truly healed."
The words hit deep, sinking into my chest like a weight I wasn't ready to carry.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and gave a small nod. "I get it."
Safyrr studied me for a beat, then clapped her hands together, shifting the energy in the room.
"Okay, let's finish this up. It's your turn to handle the cooking." She smirked, stepping aside. "I'll be here to guide you."
I took a deep breath, rolling my shoulders. Right. Cooking.
Answers would come later.
For now, I had something else to focus on.
And if I could control nothing else in my life right now, at least I could control the fire.