Chapter 18 Her Blood, His Salvation—or His Doom

Elara's

The bronze door loomed before me, carved with lunar symbols and runes that pulsed faintly as if alive. My breath caught when the heavy slabs groaned open, releasing a surge of cold air that smelled of dust, ash, and something older, something watching.

Torches flickered to life one by one, their flames an unnatural blue. Shadows sprawled along the towering shelves that stretched higher than any cathedral spire. My chest tightened. This was no ordinary library. It felt alive.

I took a step inside, and the door shut behind me with a hollow boom. The sound echoed like a warning, You cannot leave the same way you came.

The path split into three corridors, each identical. My instincts pulled me left.

I barely walked ten paces when the air warped, and the walls dissolved into a vision. Blood. Flames. A field of bodies sprawled across the earth.

And him.

Kael stood at the center, his eyes blazing red, his chest smeared with gore. His voice, deep and broken, called my name.

“Elara.”

My knees buckled. It was too real, too sharp. For a moment, the girl inside me, the orphan who fled that night, wanted to crumble.

But I gritted my teeth. This isn’t real. It cannot be real.

I forced myself to whisper, “I am Elara of Silverfang. You cannot break me.”

The vision shattered like glass, and I stumbled back into the corridor. My pulse hammered, but I kept walking.

I entered a chamber where massive wolf statues lined the walls, their stone eyes glittering.

One blinked. Then another.

The statues stepped down from their pedestals, claws scraping the floor. Their growls rolled like thunder, shaking the marrow in my bones.

Instinct screamed at me to run. But something in their gaze demanded stillness.

So I stood. My back straight, chin high, heart defiant. “If you want to test me,” I said, “do it. But I will not bow.”

The wolves circled me, brushing close enough that their breath chilled my skin. Then, one by one, they lowered their heads. The chamber door creaked open.

I exhaled shakily. My courage was the key.

The final door was smaller, its surface smooth obsidian with no lock, no handle. Only a single word carved in runes, Blood.

My stomach clenched. My blood… the very thing I’d spent my life hiding.

I pressed my palm to the stone. “You want proof of who I am.”

A sharp sting split my skin, and drops of crimson smeared across the black surface. The door glowed faintly, then yielded with a hiss, swinging inward.

The chamber beyond was circular, lined with books sealed in chains and relics that hummed faintly with power. At the center stood a pedestal of stone, and upon it lay a single tome bound in black hide, runes crawling across its surface like serpents.

I reached for it.

The moment my fingers brushed the cover, whispers flooded my mind, screams, oaths, names. I forced the voices back and opened the book.

Pages scrawled in silver ink told of The Curse of Blood and Ash, a punishment for breaking the oath of the Guardians. A name surfaced again and again, Kael of Bloodmoon.

My throat tightened.

So it’s true…

Another passage mentioned a pact older than the Council, words that made my blood run cold. “The lone wolf shall decide whether the cursed Alpha is destroyed… or delivered.”

And then, at the bottom of the page, scrawled in a hand not meant for mortal eyes. “Her blood will be his undoing, or his salvation.”

A sharp sound behind me made me snap the book shut.

Footsteps. Slow. Deliberate.

I turned, my heart pounding. Someone was here.

And in that moment, I realized I was not alone in this library.

Panic surged through me. Without thinking, I shoved the heavy tome into my satchel, the leather stretching with the weight. My hands trembled as I searched for cover, slipping behind one of the towering stone pillars. I pressed myself into the shadow, forcing my breath to steady even as my pulse thundered in my ears.

The footsteps grew louder. Two voices, one low, one sharp.

A woman emerged first, her figure lit by the pale blue glow of an enchanted torch. Her robes were lined with silver threads, her eyes hard and unyielding. A guardian. The Keeper of this cursed library.

Beside her walked a man cloaked in black, the insignia of the Council stitched across his chest. His voice carried easily through the rows of books.

“The girl was last seen near the Nameless Forest,” he muttered, each word cutting like a blade. “She’s clever, but she can’t stay hidden forever.”

The woman’s reply was colder still, her voice echoing softly against the vaulted ceiling.

“The Council need not waste resources searching. She will come here, as all the prophecies demand. The blood of Silverfang always finds its way back to the Keep.”

I froze, every muscle in my body stiff. They knew. They had always known. My breath caught in my throat, if they suspected I was already here…

The man gave a bitter laugh.

“Then we wait. She’ll lead herself into the Council’s hands. That is the way of fate.”

The Keeper’s torchlight shifted, sweeping dangerously close to my hiding place. I pressed further into the shadows, clutching my satchel so tightly my knuckles ached. The weight of the book inside felt like both salvation and doom.

The sound of their footsteps grew nearer. The blue glow brushed across the edge of the pillar, threatening to expose me.

I bit down hard, forcing myself not to move, not to breathe. My body coiled, ready to run or fight, if the light revealed me.

The Keeper’s steps slowed. She turned.

The torchlight spilled closer, closer...

And I knew in the next heartbeat, I might be found.