The morning sun bled through the windows, casting long shadows that clung to Cassius and Amelia. They were statues, their stillness a stark contrast to the frantic pulse I felt beneath my own skin. My eyes dropped to my arms, a canvas of violent purple constellations left by the previous night. I snatched my cloak, a flimsy shield against their concerned gazes, but the damage was already seen.

Amelia drifted closer, her presence a soft counterpoint to the harsh light. “Thalia,” she whispered, her voice laced with a sorrow that felt both familiar and undeserved. Her hand started towards my neck, a fleeting thought of comfort, before she seemed to think better of it and let it fall. “That bruise… it’s ghastly. I am so sorry about Blair.”

A ghost of a smile, devoid of any warmth, touched my lips. “It wasn’t your fault, Amelia. It was the only way to silence her.” I kept the sharp, throbbing truth to myself—a constant, painful reminder of the price of peace.

Ignoring my stoicism, she folded me into a hug, her apology a muffled breath against my shoulder. “I’m just so sorry.”

“It’s alright,” I murmured, my hand patting her back in a gesture I hoped was reassuring. “Just be careful while Cassius and I are in Aelindoria.”

She pulled back, her eyes locking with mine, the earlier softness replaced by a steely resolve. “I’ll call if anything threatens the palace.”

“And I’ll do the same,” I promised. “Keep me informed of everything.”

“I will,” she affirmed, her features settling into the stoic mask she so often wore, a mirror of the control I sought myself.

A genuine, small smile found its way to my lips before I turned from her. I focused on the destination, the familiar hum of magic rising within me as I tore a hole in the fabric of our reality. A swirling portal of lavander and pink shimmered into existence. In a heartbeat, Cassius was at my side, his hand finding mine, a silent anchor. I glanced back at Amelia one last time. “Be safe. I’ll see you soon.”

“You as well. You too, Cassius.”

He offered a curt nod of acknowledgment. With that, I faced the vortex, and together, we stepped through. The world dissolved into a sickening lurch, a chaotic swirl of color and sensation.

We emerged into a glare so brilliant it forced my eyes shut. When the world swam back into focus, a wave of disappointment washed over me. We were in the fields, Aelindoria a distant, shimmering promise. Close, but not close enough.

Cassius released my hand, his touch lingering for a moment before it was gone. “Thalia,” he began, his voice a low murmur, “the city’s magic won’t allow a direct entry. We must walk the path, as before.”

“Of course,” I breathed, the logic undeniable yet frustrating.

A heavy silence settled between us as we moved through the field of ethereal, glowing flora. The air, thick with the scent of night-blooming jasmine and something ancient, seemed to amplify his quietude. What is he thinking? The question echoed in the space his words should have filled. He was a statue of a different sort now, carved from worry.

The ancient elven magic of this place vibrated through me, a familiar song in my bones as we neared the stone circle. We walked in tandem, our steps falling into a silent rhythm until we reached the right place.

“Shniela triasdrea,” Cassius intoned, the elven words flowing like honey from his tongue. The air before us rippled, the veil obscuring Aelindoria dissolving like mist in the morning sun.

We stepped onto the path, but the silence from Cassius remained unbroken. Once we reached the elegant arch of the bridge, I stopped. It took him a moment to notice my absence. When he turned, his brow furrowed, I watched him retrace his steps. I met him halfway, closing the space between us until I could feel the heat radiating from his body.

“I can’t take it anymore,” I said, the words tight in my throat. “Cassius, what is it? You’ve been a ghost since we left.”

He turned away, his gaze fixed on the crystalline water that flowed far below.

“Please,” I implored, my voice softer now. “Talk to me.”

A sigh escaped him, a sound of profound weariness. When he finally met my eyes, the raw emotion in them stole my breath. “I’m angry,” he admitted, his gaze dropping to the dark marks on my neck. “I hate that I couldn’t intervene last night. I hate seeing you covered in bruises.”

“I under—”

“I know you’re strong, Thalia,” he cut in, his voice sharp with an agitation I knew was born of helplessness. “I know you’re determined, and I know you’re standing right in front of me, whole and alive.” He paused, taking a breath. “But that doesn’t change what I feel.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” I said softly, my hand instinctively rising to his shoulder.

His eyes fell to the dark mottling on my wrist, and I flinched, pulling my hand back. I understand his pain, I thought, but I don’t know how to soothe it. There was no other way.

“I’m just glad Blair can’t reach you here,” he continued, his voice regaining its usual calm. “And I am thankful that, if you are right, she will finally leave you be for now.”

I nodded, my own conviction a fragile shield. “She will.”

“But promise me,” he said, his voice dropping to a serious, low tone, “that if your life is ever truly in danger, you will fight back with everything you have. That you won’t just… endure it.”

“I can promise you that.” I knew Blair’s cruelty had its limits; she would push me to the brink, but never over it. I met his gaze, my own resolve hardening. “I’ll admit, it wasn’t easy. But you know me, Cassius. I will not break. I will fight until the end. I have to be strong, but I also have to be wise.”

His arm brushed against mine, sending a jolt of warmth through me. I glanced down at the point of contact and then back up at him. Was he closer than before, or was it just my imagination?

“I will be by your side,” he vowed, his voice a low, comforting rumble. “Don’t ever forget that you have me, and you have Amelia.”

“I won’t,” I assured him, a genuine warmth spreading through my chest. “I’m grateful for you both.”

The silence that fell this time was different, a comfortable understanding that lingered in the space between our eyes. Finally, I broke the silence, pushing off the cool stone of the railing. “We should keep moving. We have a task to complete.”

A small, wry smile touched his lips. Yes, we do.

We walked side-by-side once more, the earlier tension replaced by a renewed sense of shared purpose. I noticed a pair of mourning doves perched on the branch of a silver-leafed tree.

“How are birds here if the city is shielded from the outside world?” I asked, the mundane question a welcome distraction.

“Hmm,” Cassius mused, a thoughtful expression on his face. “I would imagine they were here before the veil was closed. The vegetation thrives, so they are well-fed. If anything, they are safer from the creatures here.”

“That’s true,” I conceded. “It really is beautiful. I’m glad I get to see it again.”

The gentle rustle of unseen creatures and the melodic birdsong became a soothing soundtrack to our journey. My thoughts, however, soon drifted back to our purpose.

“I hope the library isn’t difficult to find,” I muttered.

“It won’t be,” Cassius said as the castle loomed larger before us. “I know the way. I can lead you.”

“How?”

“I used to spend a great deal of time there. It was always open to all elves. We believe knowledge should be shared, not hoarded.”

“A sentiment lost on humans,” I replied, a cynical edge to my voice. “They prefer to weaponize it for personal gain.”

Cassius remained silent, his expression unreadable, but I knew he understood the bitter truth of my words better than anyone.

We now stood before the grand, intricately carved doors of the castle. I rested my hands on the ancient, cool wood and, with a steady breath, pushed them inward.