The clearing behind Whispers of Time had always felt peaceful to Elara.
Too peaceful.
Tall oaks stood like quiet guards, their roots twisting deep into the earth. Moss clung to stones in soft green patches, and the air usually smelled of damp soil and old leaves. It was the kind of place people walked through without thinking—never guessing what slept beneath it.
Today, the ground felt awake.
Elara stood barefoot in the center of the clearing, toes sinking slightly into the cold dirt. The locket rested against her chest, heavier than it had ever felt, as if gravity itself had decided to favor it.
Morwen circled her slowly, staff tapping the ground with each step.
"Grounding is not about force," Morwen said calmly. "It's about listening."
Elara swallowed. Easy for you to say.
Lyra leaned against a tree at the edge of the clearing, arms crossed, sharp eyes scanning the woods. Volkov stood a little apart, untouched by the earth, his polished shoes clean despite the mud. Oberon was nowhere to be seen—never a comforting sign.
"Close your eyes," Morwen instructed.
Elara did.
At once, the world narrowed.
Her breath sounded too loud in her ears. The locket warmed, a slow pulse in time with her heartbeat.
Don't push, she reminded herself. Just feel.
"Let the ley line speak," Morwen murmured. "It runs beneath your feet. You don't command it. You invite it."
Elara focused downward.
At first, there was nothing.
Then—a hum.
Low. Deep. Old.
Her breath hitched.
I feel it.
The earth answered her attention like a stretched wire plucked gently. Power flowed—not rushing, not violent—but curious. Testing her.
"Yes," Morwen said softly, sensing the shift. "That's it."
The locket flared.
Elara gasped as warmth surged through her chest, spreading down her arms and spine. The ground beneath her feet trembled—just a little.
Lyra straightened. "Morwen—"
"I see it," Morwen replied, eyes sharp now. "Elara, slow it down."
"I'm trying," Elara whispered, panic threading through her focus.
The hum deepened.
The air thickened.
Leaves shuddered on their branches.
This is too much.
She tried to pull back—but the power resisted, like a tide that had decided it liked her.
Suddenly, the forest screamed.
Not with sound—with magic.
A sharp, tearing sensation ripped through the clearing, and Elara cried out as pain flared behind her eyes. She stumbled, barely catching herself before falling to her knees.
Lyra was moving instantly, claws flashing as she shifted halfway, senses flaring. "We're not alone."
Volkov's eyes darkened. "Of course not."
The first sigil burned into the air above the tree line—black and jagged, wrong in a way that made Elara's skin crawl.
The Collective.
Three figures stepped out of the shadows between the trees, cloaked in dark, shifting magic. Their faces were partially hidden, but their intent was unmistakable.
Hungry. Confident.
One of them smiled. "So this is where the power hides."
Morwen slammed her staff into the ground. "Elara, behind me!"
But the locket pulsed again—harder this time.
"No," Elara breathed. They're here for me.
The earth bucked.
Roots burst from the soil, snapping upward like living things. One of the Collective staggered back, surprise flashing across his face.
"Well," he said mildly. "That's new."
Lyra lunged.
Chaos exploded.
Magic collided with muscle. Volkov vanished and reappeared behind one attacker, his strike precise and brutal. Oberon flickered into existence above the clearing, laughter sharp as glass as illusionary lights blinded another enemy.
"Elara!" Morwen shouted. "Control it—don't unleash it!"
But control was slipping.
Fear wrapped tight around Elara's ribs.
I'm losing it.
She tried to ground herself—but the locket was burning now, hot against her skin. Images flooded her mind: stone walls, broken light, silver eyes locked on hers—
Kaelen.
At the same moment, far away beyond the veil—
Kaelen slammed his hands against the boundary again.
The realm answered with resistance, tearing at his skin, burning through muscle and bone. Pain meant nothing.
"Come on," he growled through clenched teeth. "Feel me."
He poured everything he had into the strike—rage, desperation, her name echoing through his thoughts like a prayer.
The barrier shuddered.
Back in Havenwood, Elara screamed.
The ground cracked open beneath her feet, a shockwave rippling outward. The Collective staggered, suddenly unsure.
"What is she doing?" one of them snapped.
Morwen stared in horror and awe. "She's not alone."
Elara felt it then—him.
Not a voice. Not words.
A pull.
Strong. Familiar. Furious.
Kaelen.
Her hand flew to the locket, fingers closing tight as if she could anchor herself through it.
"I feel you," she whispered, tears streaking down her face.
The magic surged violently.
The boundary between realms thinned—just for a heartbeat.
Enough.
Enough for Kaelen to see her.
Enough for Elara to feel his hands against hers—almost touching.
And then the backlash came.
The clearing detonated in blinding light.
When the dust settled, the Collective was gone.
And Elara lay unconscious in Morwen's arms, the locket cracked and glowing faintly as the earth beneath Havenwood continued to tremble—no longer sleeping, no longer silent.
Elara woke to pain.
Not sharp. Not sudden.
The kind that sat heavy in her bones, like her body had been shaken apart and put back together in the wrong order.
Her first breath burned.
Her second trembled.
I'm alive, she realized slowly. That's… something.
The smell of crushed herbs and smoke filled her nose. Wood creaked nearby. Someone murmured under their breath.
"Elara?" Morwen's voice reached her, strained but steady. "Child, can you hear me?"
Elara forced her eyes open.
The ceiling of the antique shop swam above her—cracked now, a jagged line running through the plaster like a scar. Light filtered in through the broken window, pale and weak.
She tried to sit up.
Pain flared down her spine.
"Don't," Morwen said sharply, pressing her back down. "You nearly tore yourself apart."
Nearly, Elara thought faintly. Good to know I failed at that too.
Her gaze drifted.
Lyra sat against the wall, one arm wrapped tightly in a blood-soaked cloth, jaw clenched as a werewolf healer worked silently beside her. Volkov stood near the door, coat torn, one side of his face darkened with dried blood that wasn't entirely his.
Oberon hovered near the ceiling beam, unusually quiet, his glow dimmer than before.
Fear settled deep in Elara's chest.
"What… happened?" she whispered.
Morwen hesitated.
"That," Volkov said coldly, "is what we are trying to determine."
Elara swallowed. Her hand moved instinctively to her chest.
The locket was still there.
Cracked.
A thin fracture ran through its center, faint blue light leaking from it like a slow heartbeat.
Her throat tightened.
"I felt him," she said hoarsely. "Kaelen. He was there."
Lyra's head snapped up. "You connected?"
"For a second," Elara whispered. For half a heartbeat. Enough to break us both.
"That second," Volkov replied, voice sharp with accusation, "nearly gave the King a doorway."
The words landed like a slap.
Silence followed.
Elara stared at him. "I didn't mean to—"
"Intent does not undo damage," Volkov cut in. "The Collective used your surge as cover. The manifestation we barely pushed back? That was not a test. That was a response."
Morwen stepped between them. "Enough. Blame helps no one."
Volkov's eyes flicked to the cracked locket. "That artifact is no longer stable."
Elara's breath hitched.
"You're saying I broke it."
"I'm saying," he replied coolly, "that the Thorne heir nearly rang the dinner bell for an ancient god."
Lyra growled, low and warning. "Watch your tone."
Oberon finally spoke, voice stripped of its usual teasing. "He is not wrong. The King felt you, Elara Thorne. Felt him too."
Fear crawled up her spine.
Kaelen.
Her fingers curled weakly around the locket. I didn't mean to hurt you.
Morwen knelt beside her again, gentler now. "Child… magic like yours is not meant to be rushed. What you did was brave. And reckless."
Elara closed her eyes. I just wanted him back.
The room shifted as weight settled into truth.
The council meeting resumed, but it was no longer theoretical.
It was survival.
"We cannot attempt another resonance so soon," Morwen said firmly. "Her body needs time. The locket needs time."
"And the Collective?" Lyra demanded. "They won't wait."
"They never do," Volkov replied. "Which is why this hunt for the Echo Stone fragments must begin immediately."
Elara pushed herself up despite the pain. "Then I'm coming."
"No," Morwen said softly but firmly.
Elara met her gaze. "I'm done being protected while everyone else bleeds."
Lyra smirked faintly. "She's got teeth."
Volkov studied Elara for a long moment. Then, slowly, he nodded. "Very well. But you train properly. No more tearing holes in reality."
Elara exhaled shakily.
The grandfather clock in the corner groaned.
Everyone froze.
A faint echo lingered in the air—too deep to be sound, too heavy to be memory.
The King had not entered.
But it had noticed.
And far away—
Kaelen
Pain was no longer a stranger.
It was a language.
Kaelen lay on the fractured stone floor of the pocket realm, breath ragged, vision blurred. Dark fissures pulsed along the boundary wall where he had struck it—his strikes still etched into reality like wounds that refused to heal.
Blood soaked his hands.
Not human blood.
Guardian blood.
He laughed weakly. "Worth it."
The tear had cost him.
His strength flickered, unstable. One wing—manifested briefly during the strike—hung useless now, its magic shredded.
The realm answered his defiance with punishment.
Chains of force snapped around his wrists, slamming him back against the wall.
The Collective watched from a distance, cautious now.
"He touched her," one hissed.
Kaelen lifted his head slowly, silver eyes blazing despite the pain. "And she touched me."
That alone terrified them.
He closed his eyes.
For that brief second—that breath between worlds—he had felt her.
Warm. Alive. Afraid.
Elara.
The cost was steep.
His bond to the realm weakened.
The prison tightened.
But hope—dangerous, reckless hope—burned brighter than it had in centuries.
"She's coming," he murmured, voice rough. "And when she does…"
The boundary shuddered faintly, as if listening.
Kaelen smiled through blood.
"…nothing will stop her."