ELARA'S POV
The book slipped from my trembling hands and hit the stone floor with a crack that echoed through the empty archive.
I froze, heart pounding. If Director Chen caught me in the Forbidden Section after hours, I'd lose even this terrible job. And this job—cataloging dusty books nobody cared about—was all I had left.
Six months ago, I had everything. A career. A fiancé. A future.
Now I had nothing.
I picked up the book carefully, my fingers brushing over words I shouldn't read. Soul-Binding Rituals of the Ancient Shadow-Kin. The same research I'd spent three years studying. The same research Marcus stole and published under his name.
My chest tightened with familiar anger.
"Elara's just my research assistant," Marcus had told the Institute Council, his handsome face showing fake concern. "Poor thing got confused. Started believing my work was hers. I think she needs mental help, honestly."
They believed him. Of course they did. Marcus was charming, popular, from an important family. I was quiet, forgettable, nobody special.
The Council stripped my credentials. My own family—Mother, Father, perfect brother Damien—refused to defend me.
"You're embarrassing us," Mother had said coldly. "Damien's marrying into a Seraphim family next month. We can't have scandal."
Translation: my golden brother mattered. I didn't.
I shelved the book with shaking hands and pulled out my phone. One new message glowed on the screen.
Marcus: Saw you at the archive today. Still playing with old books? Pathetic. By the way, thanks for the research. Just got promoted to Chancellor. Youngest in Institute history! You always were good at making me look brilliant.
I wanted to scream. To throw something. To make him hurt the way he'd hurt me.
Instead, I stood alone in the dark archive, invisible and powerless, just like always.
The eclipse began outside the tall windows. Moonlight turned red, bathing the forbidden books in crimson shadows. According to legends, eclipses were when magic grew strongest. When impossible things became possible.
My hand moved to my pocket, touching the paper I'd hidden there for weeks.
One ritual page. The only one Marcus hadn't stolen because I'd kept it separate, knowing it was too dangerous to include in my research.
A summoning ritual.
I pulled it out, staring at the faded instructions. According to my studies, this ritual had failed for centuries. Nobody understood why. But I'd figured out the secret. The ritual required something called a "soul name"—not the name people called you, but the name your soul recognized as truth.
Scholars thought it meant your birth name. They were wrong.
It meant the name that held your pain. Your rage. Your deepest truth.
This is crazy, I thought. Summoning rituals aren't real. Magic like this doesn't actually work.
But what if it did?
What if I could prove my research was real? What if I could show everyone that Marcus was a thief and a liar?
What if I could finally stop being invisible?
My feet carried me toward the summoning chamber before I could change my mind. The oldest part of the archive, sealed for "safety reasons." I'd found the key weeks ago, telling myself I was just curious.
Liar. I'd been planning this.
The chamber was round, with symbols carved into the floor. I pulled out chalk from the supply closet—the kind that glowed faintly under moonlight. My hands traced the ritual circle exactly as the instructions showed. Each symbol perfect. Each line precise.
This was just an experiment. Just proving my research was valid.
Liar, whispered a voice in my head. You want power. You want revenge. You want them to be sorry.
The eclipse reached its peak. Red moonlight flooded through the chamber windows.
I pulled out the small knife I'd brought. Such a tiny blade. Barely sharp enough to cut skin.
"This is stupid," I whispered. "Nothing's going to happen."
But I cut my palm anyway. Blood welled up, darker than it should be in the crimson light.
The ritual required blood and a soul name spoken under the eclipse.
I held my bleeding hand over the circle's center, hesitating. Once I did this, I couldn't take it back.
My phone buzzed. Another message from Marcus: Hope you're not still bitter. I'm getting married next week. To Lyssa, actually. Your old roommate! Small world, right?
Lyssa. My best friend from college. She knew what Marcus did to me and married him anyway.
Something inside me broke.
I let my blood drip onto the circle and spoke the words I'd never said aloud. The name that screamed inside my head every day since my world collapsed.
"Elara the Forsaken. Elara the Invisible. Elara who will watch them burn."
For three heartbeats, nothing happened.
Then the temperature dropped so fast I could see my breath.
The chalk circle blazed with light that wasn't light—it was darkness made visible, shadows that moved like living things.
My blood sizzled where it touched the symbols, turning from red to black to something that looked like liquid starlight.
"No," I whispered, backing away. "No, this isn't—it's not supposed to actually—"
Reality tore open.
Not like a door opening. Like fabric ripping. The air split down the middle with a sound like the world screaming, and absolute darkness poured through.
Not shadow. Not the absence of light.
Something worse. Something hungry.
The darkness condensed, pulling together, taking shape.
First, I saw wings—massive, tattered, scarred. Then a form materializing from nothing. Tall. Powerful. Ancient.
When the figure's eyes opened, they glowed molten amber in the darkness.
And those eyes locked onto me with an intensity that stopped my heart.
A voice like silk over broken glass filled the chamber, carrying six centuries of rage and something darker—recognition.
"Impossible. After six hundred years in that void, I'm summoned by... you?"
Pain exploded across my chest like s
omeone pressed a burning brand against my skin.
I screamed.