The guard nodded stiffly, his face remaining impassive. Sora reached into the hidden folds of her sleeve. “Before you leave, child.”
She extended her hand, palm turned upward. Resting there was a river stone, smooth and pale as bone. Runes drifted across its surface in slow, liquid spirals, shifting like secrets too soft for mortal ears.
“Take this,” she said. “It is a Whisper Stone. If you are ever in danger, press your thumb to its center. I will hear the call.”
The stone looked harmless. Small. Almost delicate. But nothing crafted beneath the council’s seal was ever without consequence.
The stone looked delicate, but I hesitated. I had seen the crystal used during the Moonlit Trials—the one designed to read the deepest vibrations of a soul. This felt like a smaller, more intimate version of that same intrusion.
“A precaution,” she whispered, her fingers brushing mine as I lifted the cool weight. The light within it brightened at my touch, pulsing in a slow, steady rhythm that felt uncomfortably like a heartbeat. “To ensure the dark stays where it belongs. In the past.”
I slipped the stone into my pocket, my skin crawling. I did not believe for a moment that it was for my protection.
The doors to the Archives opened with a low groan, and the night air spilled over me.
I walked half a pace behind the guard, my hands clasped before me to stop myself from fiddling.
My mind was a storm of nerves.
I had not seen my family since our argument days ago. I had snuck out the following morning before the sun was up, knowing they would all still be sleeping.
I knew they would be delighted that I was bound, but I was not sure how they would receive the news that I had chosen a woman.
When my cottage finally emerged from the darkness, tucked between the ancient elder oaks, my steps slowed. Warm amberlight spilled from the windows, painting gold across the garden path. The guard gave a brief nod before retreating into the shadows.
I pushed open the door.
Warmth wrapped around me at once, thick with the scent of lamb stew and fresh herbs.
“Kaelia!”
My mother’s voice carried from the kitchen before she appeared, flour dusting her hands and catching in the loose curls at her temples.
She crossed the room in quick strides and pulled me into her arms without hesitation.
A sob threatened to break through my throat. I wanted to cry. I wanted to tell her everything. But I knew I could not.
My father rose from his chair, a leather-bound book slipping forgotten to the cushions.
“You are home,” he said simply.
“Yes.”
Mother stepped back, her fingers brushing my shoulders. “We were so worried. Tell us, are you safe?”
Before I could respond, Lyra darted forward, her arms encircling me in a tight embrace. “Tell me you are alright,” she whispered.
“I am fine, Lyra,” I murmured, forcing a smile. I pulled back, looking at all of them. “I am bound.”
“Bound! Finally!” My mother clapped her hands, tears of relief shining in her eyes. “Oh, thank the Goddess. We can finally sleep.”
Lyra grinned. “Tell us everything. Who is he? Do we know of him?”
I hesitated for a moment before exhaling with sagged shoulders. “Her name is Hera.”
The joy on my mother’s face faltered, replaced by a flicker of bewilderment. “Her?” she repeated. “But, Kaelia, we thought… we had anticipated a merchant, or perhaps a scholar…”
She trailed off, her gaze darting toward my father.