Preparing for the Night
1378 Words
Chapter 27
Elion stood at the threshold of his grandmother’s old cottage, the potion flask now strapped securely to his belt, sealed with ancient runes that pulsed faintly with moonlight. He ran a hand down the leather strap and exhaled slowly, the golden light of dusk painting his features with fire and calm. Shadows stretched across the cottage’s stone floor like reaching fingers, marking the approach of nightfall—his window to her.
His grandmother was tending to herbs at the far end of the room, her back turned, though she was clearly aware of him. The scent of crushed lavender and blue myrrh filled the air. She didn’t look up when she spoke.
“You’ve already decided, haven’t you?”
Elion stepped into the room, his voice low but resolute. “Yes. I want to do this from my private chamber. The connection… it feels sacred. Personal. I wouldn’t want you watching me talk to her.”
She turned, slowly, wiping her hands on a cloth. “And what if you make a mistake? What if your voice slips into your thunder tone, or worse—you forget to leave before the dream breaks at dawn? Elion, this isn’t like commanding a battalion. This is dream magic. It’s sensitive. Soft. It’s not made for the fire in your blood.”
He smiled gently, stepping closer. “I know. But I’m not the same boy who left for war. You said it yourself—I shattered enchanted chains to protect her. That wasn’t brute strength. That was will. And love.”
His eyes flicked toward the soft shimmer of the realm’s sky, visible through the open window. “It’s not night in her world yet. I still have time. But I want to wait for her the right way.”
She sighed, reluctantly handing him a folded strip of silk infused with spellbinding oils—used for dream anchoring.
“You’ve grown faster than I thought. But don’t let your heart outpace your caution. One emotional surge, one whisper too loud, and it could all unravel.”
Elion nodded, accepting the silk. “I’ll be careful. I promise. And I’ll tell you everything… after I return.”
He turned toward the corridor that led out of the cottage and toward his private sanctum deep in the southern forest. It was a hidden place, etched into stone and silence—a room of solitude he had built with his own hands before his first battle. He had trained there. Meditated. Dreamed. And now, it would become the bridge between two realms.
Just as he stepped through the threshold, his grandmother called out.
“Elion?”
He paused, looking back at her.
She smiled softly, brushing a loose strand of gray hair behind her ear.
“If you find her smiling in her dream… then you’ve done well.”
He didn’t speak, only nodded with quiet conviction, and vanished into the horizon, where the gold of his realm met the black silk of a waiting night.
⸻
Chapter Twenty-Two: I Own You, Aria
The apartment smelled like cinnamon-scented candles and a touch of leftover perfume. Aria stepped inside and let her bag fall onto the couch with a dull thud. The television screen glowed in the background, flickering between channels, but she didn’t notice. Her heart and mind were somewhere else.
She moved slowly, like her limbs weighed more than they should. A dull ache had lived in her chest for days. She walked to the kitchen, poured a glass of water, but didn’t drink it. Instead, she stood at the window, staring out at the street below.
Cars passed. A dog barked in the distance. But none of it touched her.
She turned and glanced at her phone. The screen was dark, lifeless. Still no call.
Elion.
His voice had become her lifeline—gentle, calming, unlike anything she had known. She didn’t know his face, or where he was from, or why his voice felt like a memory she had long forgotten… but she needed to hear it again. Needed him to remind her that she wasn’t invisible.
Just as she sat down, preparing to wait out another night of silence, the front door slammed open.
“So now you’re just ignoring me completely?”
Her heart jumped into her throat. Aria spun toward the door.
Alex stormed in, the fury on his face sharp enough to wound. His voice bounced off the walls.
“Not a text, not a call—nothing? What the hell, Aria?!”
She stood, her voice tight but firm. “You can’t just show up here whenever you want.”
He laughed bitterly. “Uninvited? After I gave you half a million dollars to pay off your family’s debts? That’s not just an invitation, sweetheart—that’s ownership.”
“I didn’t ask you to do that. I said I’d find a way to pay it back. You made it a noose.”
“Oh, spare me the dramatics. What, you think your mystery man’s gonna save you? Is that it?”
Her jaw clenched. “He might not have your money, but at least he doesn’t yell at me. At least he doesn’t hurt me.”
Alex’s face hardened. The air between them thickened.
“You’re coming to my place tomorrow night. That’s not up for discussion. You owe me. And I don’t care how long it takes—you’ll pay. One way or another.”
Then he turned, muttering under his breath, and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
From his realm, Elion stood frozen before the mirror veil, his breath catching the moment Alex’s voice roared through the glass. The rage in that man’s tone wasn’t just noise—it was poison. Every word sliced through Elion like a blade he couldn’t block. He couldn’t touch her. Couldn’t pull her away. Couldn’t shield her the way his instincts screamed to.
His fists clenched, jaw tight, body tense with restrained fury. His heart pounded against his ribs, wild with helplessness. He watched her flinch, watched her tremble, and it tore him apart.
Magic flared behind his eyes, instinct begging him to shatter the veil and storm through time and distance to reach her. But he couldn’t. Not yet.
All he could do was watch her stand her ground—bravely, beautifully—while his own silence burned him alive.
And that silence… was the cruelest punishment of all.
Silence. But not peace.
Aria stood in place, trembling, her breath shallow. The world tilted slightly under her feet. She walked back to the kitchen, hands shaking, and opened the cabinet with a half-finished bottle of wine.
She poured it without hesitation.
One sip. Then another. The warmth spread, but did nothing for the cold inside her.
Her eyes drifted back to her phone. Still no call. Still no voice.
“Please, Elion… call me,” she whispered, holding the phone to her chest like it might somehow absorb the message and deliver it to wherever he was.
“I don’t know you… but I feel like I need you.”
She finished half the glass and sank back into the couch, letting herself fold into the cushions. Her eyes stared blankly at the TV, though she didn’t register a single image.
In the silence, she thought she heard something—a whisper, maybe. A pull.
Her body, exhausted and aching, gave in to the heaviness in her bones. Her eyelids drooped. She closed her eyes.
Minutes passed. Her chest rose and fell gently. The wine glass sat on the table, forgotten.
She drifted into sleep, whispering his name.
⸻
Back in Elion’s realm, he stood inside his private chamber, watching her through the mirror veil. She looked so small in her sleep, fragile but full of quiet grace. He reached toward the glass.
“I’m here,” he murmured.
He uncorked the flask and drank.
The potion slid down his throat like ice, then burned hot—magic rushing through him in waves. His breath grew shallow. The candle in the room flared.
He stepped into the circle.
Silver threads unraveled from the ceiling, wrapping around him like wind.
He closed his eyes.
And whispered her name.
“Aria…”
- Writer
