Echoes of the Fallen

  Exhaustion weighed on Elysia like chains, dragging her deeper into the abyss of sleep. The events of the last twenty-four hours—the siege, the fight, the kiss that changed everything—had left her raw, stretched thin between what she knew and what she was still trying to remember.

  And then, the vision took her.

  She stood at Ronan’s side, her body humming with power, the weight of a blade familiar in her grasp. But this was not Lux Arcana.

  This was somewhere else.

  An ancient city’s golden towers now crumbling, smoke curling into a blood-red sky. The air reeked of fire, death, and magic and burned too hot. The streets were a battlefield, overrun with creatures she could not name, figures lost in the haze of war. And yet—

  She knew this place.

  She knew this battle.

  A snarl ripped through the chaos beside her, and she turned just in time to see him—

  Ronan, not as she knew him now, but something more. Something primal.

  He was in full wolf form, larger than any beast she had ever seen, his fur streaked with blood, his amber eyes burning with feral intensity. He was the storm within the battlefield, a force that tore through the enemy without hesitation. Claws slashed, fangs tore, and still, it wasn’t enough.

  Something gleamed against his dark fur, something carved into his flesh.

  A sigil glowing faintly beneath the blood.

  She had never seen it before, and yet—

  She had.

  It was a mark of power and fate etched into his very being. And somehow, she knew it meant only one thing—

  Doom.

  She turned back toward the battlefield, her heart hammering as she raised her hands, fire surging from her palms as she struck down an enemy, then another. But it wasn’t enough. They kept coming.

  And then—

  A whisper, her own voice, trembling with grief.

  We always lose.

  The words sliced through her like a blade, leaving a hollow ache in her chest.

  And in that moment, she saw it—the inevitable ending. The moment where the tide always turned, where the battle was always lost, where Ronan fell, where she burned.

  No matter how many times they fought.

  No matter how many times they tried.

  It always ended the same.

  A scream ripped through the battlefield—a sound of finality. A sound of defeat.

  And then—

  Darkness.

  Elysia gasped, bolting upright, her chest heaving as she tried to shake off the vision. The room was quiet, the soft glow of the Lux Arcana’s lights barely cutting through the shadows.

  But she wasn’t in that city anymore. She wasn’t fighting that war.

  Not yet.

  Her hands trembled as she pressed them to her face. The words from her vision still rang in her ears, refusing to fade.

  We always lose.

  A chilling thought crept into her mind, sinking deep into her bones.

  What if this time was no different?

  The Questions That Won’t Leave

  Elysia sat at the edge of her bed, her breath still uneven, her hands trembling as she pressed them against her temples. The vision had been too strong. Too real. She could still smell the blood, still hear the distant screams echoing through her skull. Her heart was hammering against her ribs, each beat a reminder that something had just broken open inside her.

  She needed answers.

  The weight of the vision pressed down on her, suffocating her thoughts. Was it the past she had seen? A battle that had already come and gone, a life already lived?

  Or was it something worse?

  A glimpse of the future waiting for her.

  Her fingers curled into the sheets, trying to ground herself, but the image of Ronan’s wolf form, his blood-soaked fur, that sigil glowing beneath the carnage—it refused to fade. It was imprinted in her mind as if she had lived it before.

  Or as if she were destined to live it again.

  She whispered to herself, barely audible in the silence, “We always lose.”

  Had it been her voice in the vision? Or another version of herself, some forgotten echo left behind in the threads of time?

  The thought sent a shiver through her spine.

  The questions flooded in fast, desperate, relentless.

  What was that place?

  What were they fighting for?

  Who were they fighting?

  Had she lost Ronan before?

  That last thought sent a sharp pang through her chest.

  She had seen him fall. She had seen herself burn.

  Had it been a memory? Had she lost him before?

  She pushed herself off the bed and paced the dimly lit room. The firelight flickered, casting restless shadows across the walls, mirroring the chaos inside her mind. She needed to talk to someone.

  Astrid? No. The Oracle had led her to truths she wasn’t sure she wanted to face.

  Nyx? Maybe. But Nyx was too pragmatic, too focused on war. She wouldn’t entertain what-ifs.

  That left Ronan.

  The idea of going to him sent her pulse racing. The memory of his kiss was still fresh, burned into her soul like a brand. She had felt everything in that moment—years and lifetimes of longing crashing down upon them like a storm.

  And now, she was supposed to ask him if he had died for her before? If he would die for her again?

  The thought nearly broke her.

  But she had to know.

  If this cycle always ended in fire and death, she had to find a way to break it.

  Before it was too late.

  Trial by Fire

  The training chamber beneath Lux Arcana pulsed with heat, the air thick with the scent of scorched stone and lingering embers. Ash stood before Elysia, arms crossed, his usual smirk absent. He was all business today, and she knew what that meant—he would push her past her limits.

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  “Again,” he commanded.

  Elysia gritted her teeth and threw out her hands, fire surging from her palms. The flames twisted, roaring to life, but the moment she tried to shape them, to bend them to her will—

  They flickered, sputtered, and then collapsed into nothing.

  She gasped, sweat slicking her skin as she stumbled back.

  Ash sighed dramatically, rolling his shoulders. “Still burning out too fast. You’re trying to control it like it’s something you have to force. Fire isn’t a cage fight, Princess. It’s a damn dance. You need to move with it.”

  Elysia shot him a glare, her chest rising and falling hard. “I am trying.”

  Ash’s golden eyes gleamed in the dim lighting. “Not hard enough. Again.”

  She growled under her breath, forcing herself to focus. Fire was her birthright, her soul, her weapon. It was in her blood and bones, yet it fought her every time she reached for it with intent and control.

  She lifted her hands, inhaling deeply before exhaling a slow, controlled breath. This time, she called the flames gently, not with force but with trust.

  It answered.

  A bright, golden inferno curled around her fingers, trailing up her arms without burning her. The warmth was familiar and comforting, but Ash wasn’t satisfied yet.

  “Good,” he said, nodding once. Then—without warning—he attacked.

  Elysia barely had time to react before he flicked his wrist, sending a blast of compressed air straight at her. Her fire flickered as she stumbled back, barely holding onto it.

  “Too slow,” Ash taunted. “A flicker won’t save you when they come for your throat.”

  Elysia clenched her jaw, anger sparking alongside the flames.

  She didn’t hesitate this time—she threw a blast of fire right at him.

  Ash grinned.

  With a twist of his fingers, he snuffed out her flames before they reached him, the heat dispersing into harmless smoke. “Better. But not good enough.”

  Elysia let out a frustrated snarl.

  Again.

  Again.

  Again.

  For hours, she trained until her muscles ached and her flames dimmed with exhaustion. She pushed herself harder than ever, every failure fueling her resolve. Ash didn’t let up—not once.

  By the time he finally raised a hand to signal the end of the session, Elysia was trembling. Her lungs burned, her arms shook, her body barely holding itself upright.

  But her fire?

  Her fire still burned.

  Ash nodded approvingly. “Not bad, Princess.”

  Elysia scowled at him. “That was brutal.”

  He smirked. “And necessary. You’re getting stronger, but we’re not there yet.”

  She swayed slightly, and to her utter horror, Ash caught her before she could fall.

  He chuckled, helping her stand. “That’s enough for today. Get some rest—because tomorrow?” His grin sharpened. “We really start pushing you.”

  Elysia groaned, already dreading it. But deep down, past the exhaustion and the aches, she felt it.

  She was getting closer.

  Drool and Disasters

  Elysia barely made it through the door of their suite before the bed called to her like a siren’s song.

  Her body ached from training, and her limbs were heavy with exhaustion. She had told herself she would just sit down for a minute and rest her eyes.

  Instead, she flopped face-first onto the mattress and fell asleep instantly, still in her training clothes, her boots barely hanging off the edge of the bed.

  That was how Ronan found her.

  He stood at the doorway momentarily, arms crossed, amusement tugging at his lips. He had spoken to Ash earlier, who had been too pleased to inform him that he had worked Elysia to the bone.

  And it showed.

  She lay completely still, sprawled out on the bed like she had just collapsed there mid-step. Face down. The shoes are still on. Arms at her sides. And—

  Ronan’s lips twitched as he noticed the softest snore escaping her.

  He shook his head, chuckling under his breath. She was completely out.

  Not wanting her to wake up sore and starving, he quietly ordered dinner to be brought to their room before heading into the bathroom. He turned on the faucet, filled the large bathtub with warm water, and added a few drops of something floral that the Lux Arcana staff had left in the suite. He knew little about baths, but he figured it would help.

  When he returned, ready to wake her, he noticed something new.

  A thin, glistening line of drool stretched from her slightly parted lips to the sheet below.

  Ronan froze.

  Then he grinned. Wide.

  It was the cutest damn thing he had ever seen.

  Shaking his head, he knelt beside the bed and gently touched her back.

  “Elysia.”

  Her eyes snapped open instantly.

  She blinked, still caught between sleep and wakefulness, before realization hit. She sat up too quickly, rubbing the drool from her lip.

  Ronan just smirked.

  “Long day?” he teased, voice rich with amusement.

  Elysia’s entire soul cringed. She knew what she looked like—face down, arms limp at her sides, shoes still on. And drooling.

  “I—I was just resting my eyes,” she mumbled, horrified, avoiding his gaze as she swung her legs off the bed.

  Ronan’s smirk only deepened. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

  She ran a hand through her tangled hair, willing herself to disappear. Why did this happen to her?

  Ronan, to his credit, only shook his head, chuckling. “I ran a bath for you. And dinner will be here soon.”

  Elysia shot up like someone had set fire to her, mumbling something incoherent as she bolted toward the bathroom.

  She slammed the door shut behind her and immediately collapsed against it, mortified.

  He caught me drooling.

  He caught me drooling and lying face-down like a corpse.

  She peeled off her clothes in record time, climbing into the tub with a groan and sinking beneath the warm water. Maybe she could hide here forever. Ronan may need to return to work, and she could just emerge when it is safe.

  But no.

  Ronan was still there when she finally emerged, dressed in clean, comfortable clothes.

  Sitting at the table. Waiting.

  And worst of all?

  Smiling.

  Elysia fought the urge to turn around and crawl back into the bath.

  Instead, she crossed the room and sat opposite him, avoiding his knowing gaze. He handed her a plate, but she could feel his amusement radiating off of him.

  She sighed dramatically, finally looking at him. “If you ever tell anyone about the drool—”

  Ronan chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “What drool?”

  She narrowed her eyes. He was enjoying this too much.

  Elysia huffed, stuffing a bite of food into her mouth, pretending very hard that this wasn’t the most embarrassing night of her life.

  Unspoken Words

  Dinner had been surprisingly easy.

  Elysia and Ronan talked, exchanging stories about their day, carefully avoiding any mention of the kiss—or the drool incident.

  She told him about training with Ash, how brutal it had been, and how she was pretty certain Ash was enjoying watching her suffer. Ronan smirked, clearly amused, but he didn’t say much about it. Probably because he’d known all along what Ash had planned for her.

  In return, Ronan told her about the aftermath of the battle, how Nyx had managed to reseal the defenses, and how Valarian had called in Fae experts to investigate the Thalrasi’s weapons. He talked about the reinforcements still arriving and the ongoing clean-up effort.

  Elysia had expected the conversation to be tense, heavy, and laced with the stress of what was coming next. But somehow, it wasn’t. It felt...normal. Comfortable.

  They both ignored the elephant in the room, the shift between them—because acknowledging it meant facing what came next.

  And neither of them was ready for that.

  Instead, Ronan leaned back in his chair, rolling his drink between his fingers. “I was thinking tomorrow, before training, I could give you a tour of Lux Arcana.”

  Elysia blinked. “Really?”

  He nodded. “You’ve only seen a small part of it. It’s bigger than you realize. I built it with you in mind. With all of us in mind.”

  There was something in his voice when he said that. A quiet pride. A certainty.

  Elysia tilted her head. “Them?”

  Before he could answer, his phone buzzed.

  He glanced at it briefly, and Elysia immediately noticed the shift in his demeanor. His jaw tensed, his expression darkened, and his fingers tightened around the device.

  “I have to take this,” he muttered, already standing.

  Elysia watched as he stepped out onto the balcony overlooking the ocean. The faint sound of waves crashing against the shore broke up the silence.

  She couldn’t hear his words, just tones, sharp and clipped. But she didn’t need to listen to it to know.

  He was concerned.

  And whoever he was talking to, he was arguing with them.

  Elysia slowly pushed her plate aside, trying not to think too much about his body language, screaming bad news.

  A few minutes later, he returned, distractedly running a hand through his hair, exhaling a slow sigh.

  “Who was that?” she asked, observing him.

  Ronan hesitated. Too long.

  Then, with a perfectly neutral expression, he shrugged. “Nothing for you to worry about. Just work-related.”

  Elysia narrowed her eyes. Liar.

  But she let it go for now.

  Ronan glanced at the table and then back at her. “I’ll send someone up for the dishes. I need to talk to Dorian briefly, but then I’ll be back.”

  Elysia frowned as he grabbed his jacket. Right. Of course. Back to work.

  “Yeah. Sure,” Elysia muttered, forcing herself to keep her expression neutral.

  Ronan paused for half a second like he was about to say something else—but then he just nodded and walked out.

  The door clicked shut behind him, and Elysia sat back, hating the empty feeling he left behind.

  The Unknown Visitors

  Ronan sat in the private lounge, his fingers drumming against the polished mahogany table as he waited. He had called this meeting minutes ago, and as expected, Nyx and Dorian arrived without delay.

  Nyx entered first, her sharp gaze flickering over him. “This better be good, Ronan. I was in the middle of a rather lucrative negotiation.”

  Dorian followed, dropping into a seat across from him and swirling a drink.

  “If this is about the Thalrasi, I swear—”

  “Elira called,” Ronan cut in, wasting no time.

  That got their attention.

  Nyx’s smirk faded. Dorian straightened slightly. They all knew Elira wouldn’t reach out unless it was serious.

  “She had visitors today,” Ronan continued. “A witch she knew through an old friend, but the other two? She didn’t recognize. One was human, and she could sense it—either current or former Thalrasi. They said they wanted to come to Lux Arcana to warn us—me and Elysia.”

  Nyx let out a slow breath. “That’s a bold request.”

  Dorian’s expression darkened. “What if it’s a trap?”

  Ronan nodded. “It could be. I don’t trust it either. But if these three found Elira, then so can the Thalrasi.”

  The thought unsettled him. Elira was one of the few people outside the Lux Arcana he trusted without question, and the idea that she could be dragged into this war didn’t sit well with him.

  “I tried to convince her to come here,” Ronan admitted, leaning back. “But she refused. She’s so bloody frustrating.”

  Nyx smirked. “She’s not the only one.”

  He shot her a glare, but she only shrugged.

  “Give me a day,” she said, all business again. “I’ll have it prepared. I’ll set up wards that will keep them from passing if they’re Thalrasi. And if anything goes wrong? Their memories will be wiped clear of what happens inside.”

  Ronan exhaled, relieved. “Good. Do it.”

  Then he turned to Dorian. “Can we send Astrid to ward Elira’s home? If she won’t come here, we can at least give her some level of protection.”

  Dorian nodded. “I’ll make sure it’s handled. But what about these visitors?” He met Ronan’s gaze, expression serious. “Will you let them meet Elysia?”

  Ronan thought for a long moment.

  “Only when I’m certain they’re not a threat.”

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