[A Dark Alley]
The place was hidden for a reason.
Tucked between abandoned buildings at the edge of the old quarter, the shop looked like nothing more than a forgotten relic with dusty windows and a flickering sign.
It was the kind of place people passed without ever really seeing but Rogan slipped inside anyway.
The air changed the moment the door shut behind him.
Thick with herbs, smoke and something older like ancient magic layered so deeply into the walls that it hummed faintly beneath his skin.
Shelves lined the narrow space cluttered with jars, vials, dried roots and symbols etched into glass.
A woman stood behind the counter, her dark hair braided loosely down her back as she ground something with slow, deliberate movements.
"You are late," she said without looking up.
Rogan exhaled. "I needed to be sure I wasn't followed."
She snorted softly. "If they were looking for you, you wouldn't have made it past the alley."
Only then did she glance up.
Her eyes were sharp, knowing, far too perceptive for comfort.
"Sit," she said. "You don't come here unless something's wrong."
Rogan did as told. He sat, resting his elbows on the worn wooden counter.
For a moment, he said nothing and the silence stretched, heavy and uncomfortable.
Then he finally spoke.
"She went into Blackthorn territory."
The woman's hands stilled and she set the mortar down slowly.
"When?" she asked.
"This morning."
Her jaw tightened. "And came back alive."
"Yes."
"That's not reassuring."
"It gets worse," Rogan rubbed a hand over his face,frustrated. "She accepted a job at Blackthorn Enterprises."
That earned him a sharp look.
"And you let her?" the woman raised her brows.
"I didn't know," he snapped quietly. "She didn't tell me."
The woman sighed and leaned back against the shelves. "You always knew this day would come, Rogan."
"No, Sera," Rogan said. "I always knew it might but that's different."
Her gaze softened just a fraction. "You can't hide the truth from her forever."
"I am not trying to," he replied. "But I am trying to buy time."
"Time for what?"
"For things to settle," he said. "For whatever's been suppressed for decades to stay buried."
Seraphile studied him carefully. "And why do you think it's resurfacing?"
He nodded once. "I can feel it. The same pressure I felt years ago, I can feel the same wrongness in the air."
Silence fell between them again, long and heavy.
"You should have told her," Seraphile said quietly, adjusting her glasses. "You should have done it the moment she turned eighteen."
"Not now," Rogan replied immediately. "She is not ready."
"You don't get to decide when fate catches up."
He clenched his jaw. "I decide when she is safe."
Seraphile sighed and helplessly shook her head. "I know you are very protective when it comes to Lyra but being protective doesn't mean you can fight with fate."
Rogan kept quiet for a while before stating the purpose of his urgent visit. "I need something stronger."
Her brows knit together. "Stronger than what I have been giving her?"
"Yes."
"A more potent suppression," she said slowly. "The one she is taking now is already strong, very strong. A stronger potion comes with grave danger."
"So is leaving her exposed."
The woman turned away, pacing the narrow space. "You know the problem, Rogan. My spells and potions are holding but barely."
Rogan's chest tightened.
"With time," she continued, "they will weaken. Not because I am failing but because she is growing. Her powers will not stay dormant for a very long time. It's already pushing back."
Rogan closed his eyes briefly.
"Then help me," he pleaded. "Please."
She stopped in front of him, studying his face.
"You are asking me to delay the inevitable," she said. "Not prevent it."
"I know."
After a long moment, she nodded. "I will brew something stronger but it will only be a temporary anchor."
Rogan let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
"But hear me clearly," she added, her voice firm. "This will not last and every time we force her power down, the backlash will be worse when it surfaces."
Rogan stood. "I will take that risk."
She shook her head. "You shouldn't."
He paused at the door.
Before he could leave, she spoke again.
"The sooner Lyra knows the truth," she said quietly, "the better chance she has of surviving it."
Rogan didn't turn around.
"Keeping her in the dark won't protect her," the Seraphile continued. "It will only make her more vulnerable."
His hand tightened around the door handle.
"I will tell her when the time is right." Before he left, he said, "I will be back in an hour."
As Seraphile watched him go, worry shadowed her eyes because the truth had a way of surfacing with or without permission.
And Lyra Hale was already standing too close to the fire.
….