The air in Lorthraine had shifted. It was subtle, like the first breath of dawn after a long, sleepless night—still dark, but tinged with the faintest hope of light. The thick pall of illness that had hung over the city for months was lifting, though no one could explain exactly how or why. Healers, mystics, even the royal physicians, muttered about miraculous recoveries, the slow but steady return of strength to limbs long weakened by fever and fatigue.

  Ellie stood at the edge of the palace gardens, her fingers trailing over the rough bark of an ancient oak. The leaves above rustled in the cool autumn breeze, but she barely heard them. Her mind was elsewhere—down in the collapsed chamber beneath the palace, in the flicker of Eloise’s eyes just before she vanished into the rubble.

  It had been weeks since that night, and yet Ellie could still feel the weight of the pendant in her palm, the last vestige of the ritual’s dark power. It haunted her thoughts, a ghost she couldn’t shake. She had seen too much, far more than she had ever wanted to.

  “I thought you’d be pleased with yourself by now,” came a voice from behind her, teasing and familiar.

  Elladora strolled over, her arms crossed, a half-smile playing on her lips. She tilted her head, studying Ellie as though she were some puzzle that needed solving. “You exposed a false saintess and saved the kingdom from a curse. Shouldn’t you be basking in glory or something?”

  Ellie snorted softly, her gaze fixed on the distant rooftops of Lorthraine. “I wouldn’t call it ‘accidental heroism.’ More like... panicked stumbling.”

  Elladora’s laugh rang out, bright and unrestrained. “Oh, definitely. You were an absolute disaster, tripping over half the ritual like a fawn on ice.” She leaned against the oak beside Ellie, her grin softening to something more thoughtful. “But still, you did it. Whether you want the credit or not.”

  Ellie shook her head, her chest tightening. “I didn’t mean for any of it to happen. I didn’t even understand what I was doing with that artifact. The whole chamber could’ve collapsed on us. We barely made it out.”

  “And yet we did.” Elladora’s voice was gentle now, the teasing edge gone. She bumped her shoulder against Ellie’s, a rare moment of affection. “Don’t you think that counts for something?”

  Ellie didn’t answer right away. She let her gaze drift down to the palace grounds below, where the gardens spilled into the wide avenues of the capital. Beyond them, beyond the thick stone walls, Lorthraine stretched into the horizon—its streets alive with movement again, with the faint sounds of recovery.

  The same people who had once crowded the temples, begging for Eloise’s healing touch, were now slowly rising from their beds, regaining their strength as the magic that had drained them seeped away.

  Even he was recovering.

  “How’s Prince Lucius?” Ellie asked quietly, not taking her eyes off the horizon. She had been avoiding the palace’s sickrooms since the collapse, unwilling to face the consequences of her actions in person. Not just yet.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Elladora shifted beside her, the amusement in her expression fading to something more serious. “Better. The healers say he’s already regaining his strength. It’s slow, but it’s happening. The energy Eloise siphoned off is returning to him, just like it is for the others.”

  Ellie exhaled slowly, the knot in her chest loosening just a little. Lucius had been one of the first to fall sick, his vitality drained bit by bit over the months. She had barely known him—just a fleeting encounter at court—but his illness had been a grim symbol of Eloise’s growing influence, of how deep her manipulation had run.

  “She had them all fooled,” Ellie murmured, almost to herself. “Even me, at first.”

  Elladora nodded, though there was a knowing gleam in her eyes. “She was clever. And desperate.” She studied Ellie for a long moment, then added, “But you were cleverer. Or, at least, lucky enough to stumble into the truth.”

  “Lucky,” Ellie echoed with a dry laugh. She ran a hand through her tangled hair, feeling the weariness settle deeper in her bones. “Maybe too lucky. What happens when my luck runs out?”

  Elladora raised an eyebrow, her smile returning, though this time it was tinged with mischief. “So? You’ve already made plenty of enemies, Ellie. After your fiascos in Greymire, slaying a dragon with one strike, single-handedly preventing the revival of the devil king. I’d say you’re used to it by now.”

  Ellie groaned, shooting Elladora a half-hearted glare. “That is not reassuring.”

  “Well, it wasn’t meant to be.” Elladora’s grin widened, though her gaze softened as she looked at Ellie. “But seriously, you’ve been through worse. And if fate has plans for you, which I’m starting to suspect it does, you’re just going to have to deal with it.” She leaned in, her voice dropping to a mock whisper. “Or fake your death again. That’s always an option.”

  “I might take you up on that,” Ellie muttered, though there was a flicker of a smile on her lips.

  But beneath her attempt at humor, the unease lingered. The threat Eloise had posed was gone, but Ellie knew better than to believe it was truly over.

  The forces Eloise had been playing with—the dark magic that had twisted its way into the heart of the kingdom—wouldn’t just disappear. There were others out there, more powerful, more dangerous, who might take notice of what had happened in Lorthraine.

  What if they were already watching?

  Not to mention that Achron was out there, no doubt orchestrating more diabolical catastrophes.

  “You’re thinking too hard again.” Elladora eyed her warily. “You always get that look when you’re spiraling.”

  “I can’t help it.” Ellie’s voice was quiet, the weight of her thoughts pressing down on her. “What if this isn’t the end? What if there’s something worse coming? Someone worse than Eloise?”

  Elladora tilted her head back, staring up at the shifting clouds. "Maybe one day I’ll get bored of being an archmage again," she said, her tone breezy, but her eyes gleaming with something sharper. "And just for the fun of it, I’ll become a serial killer."

  She leaned in close, so close Ellie could feel her breath, her voice dropping to a low, almost intimate whisper. “And when that happens, you’ll be the only one who can stop me. Imagine that.”

  Ellie’s heart skipped, her body going still as her gaze snapped to Elladora. "Don’t joke about that."

  Elladora raised an eyebrow, her expression unfazed, almost amused. "Who says I’m joking?"

  The teasing air between them vanished, the moment stretching taut and heavy. For the briefest of moments, Ellie caught something in Elladora’s eyes—something cold, calculating. It was gone as quickly as it had appeared, but it left a chill in its wake.

  The words—when that happens—hung in the air like a threat, faint but impossible to ignore.