Chapter 5
1445 Words
Elara wakes with a start, heart hammering against her ribs, the heat of his touch still lingering on her skin. The air in her chambers feels stifling, thick with something unseen—something left behind by the dream.
But was it just a dream?
Her hands tremble as she presses them against her face. This isn’t the first time she’s dreamed of him, but it’s the first time she’s seen his face. The first time he’s spoken her name with such certainty. The first time his touch has left behind something real.
Looking down at her wrist, she gasps.
A faint mark—golden, like smoldering embers—trails where he touched her. It vanishes when she blinks, but she felt it. And that terrifies her.
She swings her legs over the side of the bed, planting her bare feet against the cold stone floor. Her breath is unsteady, thoughts tangled. She needs air. She needs clarity.
But above all else, she needs to know what this means.
Did Alazar truly enter her dreams, or was this some twisted remnant of her own subconscious desires? The thought sickens her. She should hate him. He has her mother. He has Evelynn. He is their enemy.
And yet…
The whisper of his promise curls around her mind like a brand. By the next moon, my phoenix…
She presses a hand to her chest, willing her heart to slow.
No. She won’t fall for his games. She won’t be some pawn in his twisted fate.
But even as she tells herself that, her skin still burns where he touched her.
And deep down, a part of her is afraid.
Afraid that she wants him to touch her again.
The morning light barely filters through the heavy storm clouds as Eugene tightens the straps on his leather bracers. The weight of leadership presses down on him like iron chains—Evelynn is missing, Derek is still at large, and now Elara…
He watches her enter the war room, her movements tense, purposeful—but there’s something else in her eyes. A flicker of something he can’t quite place. Not fear, not anger.
Something darker.
“Elara.” His voice is measured, but sharp. “You look like hell.”
She stiffens, but recovers quickly. “No more than usual.”
He narrows his eyes. There’s a rawness to her, a frayed edge she’s trying to hide. He’s known her long enough to see when something is off.
“Did something happen?”
She hesitates for the briefest moment. But then, just as quickly, her mask slips into place. “Nothing.”
Liar.
Eugene doesn’t push—yet. But he makes a mental note. Whatever it is, it’s got her shaken.
And that means it’s dangerous.
Alazar watches through the veil of dreams as Elara bolts upright in bed, gasping, her hand pressed to the mark he left on her wrist.
His smile is slow, predatory.
She felt him.
Even now, she’s trying to deny it, to rationalize what happened. But the seed has been planted.
She is beginning to understand.
Alazar turns away from the vision, stepping through the swirling shadows of his domain. His long fingers flex at his sides, still tingling from the memory of her heat.
It had been… difficult, to pull away.
He has waited centuries for her. For this moment.
He will not rush.
Not when he is so close.
The storm is gathering. The pieces are moving.
And soon, his phoenix will come to him—whether she wishes to or not.
The chamber was dimly lit, golden braziers casting flickering shadows across the stone walls. The air was thick with incense and power, a suffocating presence that clung to every breath. Alazar stood before her, golden eyes drinking in the sight of the woman who had once been fierce, untamable.
Now, she was anything but.
Evelynn knelt before him, her wrists bound in golden chains, her once-glorious power shackled along with her will. Her white hair spilled over her shoulders like waves untamed and wild save for a single strand of red—one last, defiant ember of the fire she once carried. A fire he had long since extinguished.
He traced his fingers along her jaw, tilting her chin up so she would look at him. Her eyes met his—empty, resigned, waiting.
She did not flinch. She did not resist.
She was his. Completely.
And yet, it wasn’t enough.
Alazar exhaled slowly, his fingers sliding lower, brushing the delicate skin of her throat, down the curve of her shoulder. Evelynn barely reacted, her breath steady, her body yielding beneath his touch.
There had been a time when she would have fought him. When her lips would have curled in defiance, when her magic would have sparked against his. But he had broken her.
Piece by piece.
Now, when he pulled her close, she leaned into him. When he pressed his lips to her skin, she sighed, soft and willing. When he laid her beneath him, she accepted it without a word, without hesitation.
Without a fight.
His hands roamed her body, fingers mapping familiar territory, relearning the curves he had long since claimed as his own. She responded in quiet gasps, in shivers that ran down her spine, in the way her body arched into his touch. She moaned softly, and the sound might have pleased him once.
Now, it unsettled him.
Because it wasn’t her.
It wasn’t Elara.
He closed his eyes, letting his mind twist reality.
He imagined Elara beneath him instead—flushed with fury, her breath ragged with rage, her nails digging into his skin as she fought him with everything she had. He imagined her snarling his name, in heated pleasure, in defiance, her body trembling not with surrender, but with hatred. Coming undone beneath him as her own body betrayed her.
He wanted that.
He craved that fire.
But Evelynn had none left. He had taken it from her, shattered it, crushed it under his heel until there was nothing left but this obedient, mindless pleasure.
And it disgusted him.
But the thought of Elara was all it took for him to pour himself out. When he finally stilled, when the last tremors of release faded, he did not linger. Evelynn lay beneath him, her body warm and pliant, her breath soft with exhaustion.
She turned her head slightly, her eyes half-lidded, lips parting as if to speak—but no words came. She merely sighed, waiting for him to decide what came next.
Alazar’s jaw clenched.
With a flick of his fingers, his magic curled into her mind, snuffing out the memory of what had just transpired.
Evelynn’s body slackened, her head lolling as unconsciousness claimed her. The golden chains around her wrists rattled softly as she sagged against them, utterly unaware, utterly his.
And yet, not what he truly wanted.
His eyes darkened as he rose, stepping away from her without another glance.
She was nothing more than a hollow reflection of what he desired.
But Elara—Elara—would not break so easily.
And when he had her, he would make sure she burned just for him.
Elara…
The voice was weak, barely a breath, but it sent a shiver through her bones. Her mother.
She jerked upright, breath catching in her throat. It wasn’t possible. Evelynn was gone—taken, broken. They had searched for signs of her, tried every spell, every scrying method, but she had vanished into that portal shehad sideded with the darkness .And yet…
Elara…run…
The whisper came again, strained, desperate, as if spoken through layers of darkness.
Elara staggered back, clutching her head. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. But deep in her heart, something told her otherwise.
“Elara?” Eugene’s voice cut through the haze, steady and grounding. She turned toward him, pulse hammering. His brows furrowed as he studied her. “What is it?”
She wanted to dismiss it, to tell him it was nothing, but the echo of her mother’s voice still lingered, thrumming in her veins like a pulse of magic not her own.
“She’s still there,” Elara whispered, the certainty settling into her bones like fire. “She’s still resisting the dark.”
Eugene’s expression hardened. “Then we might be able to get her back.”
Elara swallowed past the tightness in her throat, nodding. Whatever Alazar had done, whatever chains he had wrapped around Evelynn’s mind, they had not erased her completely. She was still fighting, still reaching out.
And Elara would not abandon her.
No matter what it took.
- Writer
