The forest quieted after the Fae withdrew.
Too quiet.
Moonlight spilled through the ancient trees, silver and cold, brushing over roots older than memory. Elara stood still, her heart pounding, as the Fae leader turned back to her.
Up close, the resemblance was undeniable.
The same eyes.The same shape of face.The same quiet fire beneath calm control.
She's real. She's alive.
The woman studied Elara with an intensity that made her skin prickle.
"You wish to change the past," she said slowly. "That alone makes you dangerous."
Her voice was steady, but heavy—like every word carried centuries of loss.
"My name is Elandria Thorne."
The name echoed through Elara's bones.
My blood. My beginning.
Kaelen shifted beside Elara, close enough that their arms brushed. He didn't speak, but his presence anchored her. She leaned into it without thinking.
"I don't want to change the past for myself," Elara said. "I want to stop the future."
Elandria's emerald eyes narrowed. "A future you should not know."
"And yet I do," Elara replied, pain slipping into her voice. "Havenwood falls. The Echo Stone breaks. The King rises."
Silence fell between them.
Then Elandria spoke, softer now. "You carry grief you have not yet lived."
Elara swallowed hard. "You sacrifice yourself."
That did it.
Elandria flinched.
Just slightly—but enough.
"You speak of my death as if it is certain," she said.
"It is," Elara whispered. "And it wasn't enough."
The words hurt. Saying them hurt.
I'm asking her to rewrite her own fate.
Kaelen's fingers curled around Elara's hand. Firm. Protective.
"We understand the risk," he said. "But the alternative is extinction. The King consumes worlds."
Elandria's gaze flicked to him.
Lingering.
Assessing.
"And you," she said quietly. "You are no Fae."
"No," Kaelen replied. "But I will bleed for her future."
Something unreadable passed through Elandria's eyes.
"Love," she murmured. "Always the most dangerous variable."
She turned and gestured deeper into the forest. "Come. This conversation does not belong to open ground."
They walked in silence.
Roots twisted beneath their feet. The air grew thick with ancient magic. At the heart of the grove stood a stone circle, worn smooth by time.
Elandria stopped.
"This is where the Echo Stone once sang freely," she said.
Elara felt it then—the hum in her locket growing stronger.
And beneath it…
A shadow.
"Tell me," Elara said, voice low. "How did the King touch the Echo Stone in the first place?"
Elandria closed her eyes.
"When Havenwood was young," she began, "the Echo Stone was pure. It reflected harmony—between Fae, land, and life."
She opened her eyes again.
"Then came fear."
Kaelen's jaw tightened.
"A faction within the Fae Court," Elandria continued. "Elders who believed the Stone was too powerful. Too close to mortals."
Oberon stepped forward, his usual lightness gone. "They feared what love could do."
"Yes," Elandria said sharply. "They feared unions like yours."
Elara's breath caught.
"The King was not summoned," Elandria said. "He was invited. Not fully. Just a whisper. A test."
A chill ran down Elara's spine.
"They tried to destroy the Dark Echo," Elandria continued. "But they hesitated. And hesitation is where corruption lives."
"So they sealed it instead," Lyra growled. "Idiots."
"They thought sealing was safer than destruction," Elandria said. "They were wrong."
Elara clenched her fists. "That seal became a cage. And cages rot."
"Yes," Elandria agreed. "And over time, the King learned to breathe through the cracks."
The truth settled like ash.
He was never gone. He was waiting.
Elandria turned to Elara again. "Your blood is the key. But also the risk."
"Because of him," Elara said, glancing at Kaelen.
"Yes."
Kaelen met her gaze. Steady. Unafraid.
"My love is not weakness," Elara said fiercely.
Elandria studied them both.
"Love between a Thorne and a Vane repels the King," she said. "It strengthens the Echo Stone. That is why the council feared it."
Elara's heart thundered.
We're not cursed. We're dangerous—to him.
"Then we use it," Elara said. "We don't hide. We don't seal. We end it."
Elandria stepped closer. Her hand brushed Elara's cheek—gentle, reverent.
"You may erase yourself," she warned. "Your memories. Your future."
Elara didn't look away.
She turned to Kaelen instead.
His thumb brushed her knuckles. "I'd choose you in any timeline."
Her chest ached.
"Yes," Elara said firmly. "We accept the cost."
Elandria held her gaze for a long moment.
Then she nodded.
"Very well," she said. "At dawn, we go to the sacred grove."
Her eyes darkened.
"And pray the King has not already learned your names."
The forest seemed to breathe around them.
The past had opened its teeth.
And Havenwood's fate—past and future—hung on love sharp enough to cut time itself.