A Game of Deception

  Cassian stood on the rooftop of a crumbling building, his sharp gaze fixed on Veil Fortuna below. The New Orleans Sanctuary Casino gleamed like a beacon in the heart of the French Quarter, its gold-and-sapphire neon casting an ethereal glow over the darkened streets. It was more than a casino—a fortress, a sanctuary for those hunted by the Thalrasi.

  Elysia was safe elsewhere for now.

  Cassian tightened his grip on the railing, exhaling slowly. He had done the only thing he could—misguided the Thalrasi and sent them hunting shadows where the Iron Veil’s forces would cut them down before they could even reach the doors. It had cost him warriors, men who trusted him, but there had been no other choice. If the Thalrasi suspected his true intentions, if they even began to question his loyalty, his chance to reach Elysia would be gone forever.

  He wasn’t here to kill her.

  He was here to save her.

  But walking through the front doors of Veil Fortuna wasn’t an option. The Iron Veil would never let him get close—not a Thalrasi, not someone like him. He was the enemy, and they would cut him down before he ever had the chance to speak. No, he would need a different approach to reach her.

  Below, his surviving warrior emerged from the alleyway, bloodied but alive. Cassian barely glanced at him before speaking. “Report.”

  “The last of our hunters are dead. The Iron Veil showed no mercy,” the warrior said, his voice tight with exhaustion. “The moment they realized who we were, they didn’t hesitate.”

  Cassian nodded. “Good. That means they’re predictable.”

  The soldier hesitated. “We lost a lot of good men for this, Cassian. Are you sure she’s worth it?”

  Cassian turned, fixing the man with a stare sharp enough to cut steel. “She is the key to everything. We don’t need to kill her. We need to reach her. And for that, I need a way inside.”

  The warrior remained silent, but Cassian could feel his unease. It didn’t matter. He had no intention of explaining himself, not yet. Not until he had a real plan.

  He looked back at the sanctuary, the layers of security wrapped around it like an impenetrable shell. The Iron Veil had ensured no Thalrasi would ever breach its walls, yet… Cassian had already seen what he needed.

  Surveillance rotations. Hidden pathways. Magical defenses that could be disrupted.

  A weakness. It was there, buried beneath the arrogance of the casino’s security.

  He just needed time to exploit it.

  “We fall back for now,” Cassian murmured. “Let them think they’ve won.

  Let them believe the Thalrasi are foolish enough to keep throwing men at their walls.”

  “And then what?” the soldier asked cautiously.

  Cassian smirked, his eyes never leaving Veil Fortuna. “Then, I walk through the front door.”

  The soldier’s eyes widened. “That’s suicide.”

  Cassian only chuckled. “Not if they let me in.”

  As the Iron Veil celebrated their so-called victory, Cassian turned away from the neon glow of the sanctuary. The game had only just begun.

  And he intended to win.

  Threads of the Forgotten

  The library beneath Veil Fortuna was a relic of an era when knowledge was power and secrets could shape the world. Flickering candlelight cast long shadows across the ancient tomes and weathered scrolls, their bindings barely holding together after centuries of neglect. The scent of parchment and ink mingled with the faint metallic tang of magic that had seeped into the very stones of the room. Deep in the archives, it was here that Nyx and Astrid worked tirelessly to unravel a mystery buried for lifetimes.

  Elysia’s past.

  Astrid spread the crumbling pages before them, her usually steady hands trembling slightly as she examined the fragile text. “Look at this,” she murmured, voice hushed with reverence. “This isn’t the first time her name has appeared. Not just in prophecy, but in history.”

  Nyx leaned over the table, her sharp eyes scanning the pages with growing unease. The entries were fragmented, entire sections blacked out, burned, or rewritten. But the pieces that remained told a chilling story.

  “They’ve been erasing her,” Nyx whispered. “The Thalrasi have been systematically wiping out any record of her existence. Every time she was reborn, they made sure the world forgot her.”

  Astrid exhaled slowly, her fingers tracing a name barely visible beneath centuries of tampering. “Elysia was never just one person. She was many. She has lived through empires, wars, and cataclysms… and every time, she was erased.”

  Nyx clenched her jaw. “They knew. They always knew. And yet, she kept coming back.”

  Astrid turned another page, revealing a faded but still legible illustration: a woman with eerily familiar eyes standing at the side of a warrior with a wolf’s shadow looming behind him. The details were different, the clothing from another time, another world, but the core of it remained.

  Ronan.

  Astrid’s expression hardened. “They erased her history, but they could never erase her connection to him. No matter how many times they burned the records, no matter how many times they hunted her, she always found him. And he always found her.”

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  Nyx frowned. “But why? Why go through the effort, century after century? What do the Thalrasi fear?”

  Astrid turned another page, revealing another name hastily scratched out but not destroyed.

  The Eclipsed One.

  Nyx’s breath caught. “They weren’t just erasing her. They were trying to sever her from him.”

  Astrid nodded, eyes dark with understanding. “Because together, they are something the Thalrasi fear. Something that could end them.”

  Silence stretched between them, thick with revelation. The weight of their uncovered knowledge settled in their bones like an unspoken warning.

  Nyx finally straightened, her expression unreadable. “We need to tell her. We need to tell Ronan.”

  Astrid hesitated, looking back at the pages, at the evidence of a history that had been stolen and rewritten repeatedly. “We can only hope it helps her piece some of her story together. Ronan may be able to help fill in some details.”

  Nyx’s eyes gleamed in the candlelight. “What ever has the Thalrasi so scared of Elysia and Ronan, we will make damn sure they fail their psychotic mission this time.”

  Astrid closed the book with quiet finality, knowing that from this moment forward, there was no turning back. The truth had been uncovered.

  And the war to reclaim it had just begun.

  A Place to Belong

  Ronan led Elysia through the grand corridors of Lux Arcana, the private sanctuary hidden from prying eyes. The moment they stepped inside, a subtle shift in energy hummed around them—a blend of magic, security, and something uniquely theirs. This place was meant to be safe, meant to be home.

  Finally, they reached a set of intricately carved double doors. Ronan pushed them open, revealing the space beyond.

  The bedroom was the size of an apartment, its high ceilings draped in soft silk that billowed with unseen currents. Floor-to-ceiling windows lined the far wall, offering a breathtaking view of the ocean and rainforest below. A massive bed, draped in rich black and gold sheets, sat at the center of the space, inviting and intimidating. A sitting area with velvet couches and a low-burning fireplace added warmth to the expansive room, and an adjoining door led to what Elysia assumed was a private study. Every detail spoke of Ronan’s refined taste, but a quiet intimacy made it clear—it was designed to be shared.

  Ronan turned to face her, his expression unreadable. “Would you feel comfortable staying here with me? Or would you rather I find alternative accommodations?”

  Elysia hesitated, taking in the sheer size of the space. It was more than enough for them to coexist without crossing boundaries. She was still getting her head around everything, but she couldn’t deny that she felt safer with him nearby.

  After a moment, she nodded. “We can share. The space is large enough, and… I think I’d feel better having you nearby.”

  Something flickered in Ronan’s amber eyes, something warm. “Then it’s settled.”

  She moved toward the sitting area, sinking into one of the plush chairs. Ronan followed, leaning against the fireplace, watching her with quiet curiosity. “How did your meeting with Ash go?”

  Elysia laughed softly. “It was… interesting. He’s a lot to take in, but I really appreciate you bringing him here to work with me. I think he’ll be able to help.”

  Ronan smirked. “Ash has his own way of doing things, but he knows what he’s doing.”

  She nodded, then hesitated before adding, “He also said something about the Thalrasi not moving my complete core when they suppressed my power. He thinks I can return to full strength.”

  Ronan’s expression darkened slightly, though not with anger—more with concern. “Then we’ll make sure you do.”

  He crossed the room then, settling beside her. With measured movements, he pulled out a small leather-bound book and handed it to her. “There’s something else. Nyx and Astrid uncovered more about your past. About how the Thalrasi have been erasing your history.”

  Elysia carefully opened the book, her fingers trembling as she took in the faded records, the fragmented recollections of lives she had once lived. Each name, each passage, whispered a truth she had been denied.

  Her throat tightened. “They tried to erase me.”

  Ronan’s jaw clenched. “But they failed. You are still here. And now, you know.”

  Tears welled in her eyes, but they weren’t just from sadness but from understanding. From the weight of everything she had been through and the fact that, finally, someone saw her. Someone knew.

  She turned to him, her voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you.”

  Ronan reached out, brushing a stray tear from her cheek. “You never have to thank me, Elysia. You will always have whatever you need.”

  The depth in his voice made her breath hitch. Then, without hesitation, he added, “I love you, Elysia. And you are safe here. Whatever you need—time, space, answers—I will make sure you have it. You don’t have to figure everything out tonight or tomorrow. Just know that you are not alone in this. No matter how long it takes, I will wait for you. I always will.”

  Her lips parted, but no words came at first. She didn’t need them.

  Instead, she reached for his hand, lacing her fingers through his.

  She had spent so long feeling lost.

  But here, in this space, with him—she was found.

  Shadows in the Firelight

  The fire crackled softly, casting flickering shadows against the velvet-lined walls of their room. Outside, the ocean murmured in the distance, but the world felt still inside. Elysia curled her legs beneath her as she sifted through the old drawings spread across the low wooden table in front of the sofa. Ronan sat beside her, silent and watchful, his presence steady.

  She ran her fingers over the delicate sketches, tracing the lines of past lives, old battles, and forgotten faces. But one drawing—one in particular—made her pulse stutter, her breath catching in her throat.

  A warrior.

  His silver eyes burned from the page, sharp and unforgiving, his expression frozen in a mixture of power and cruelty. Something in those eyes turned her blood to ice. The very sight of him sent a shudder down her spine, and before she could stop herself, she reached for Ronan’s arm, gripping him tight.

  She turned the sketch toward him, her voice barely above a whisper. “That is him, isn’t it? The one who took my fire.”

  Ronan’s entire body tensed the moment his gaze fell upon the drawing. His jaw clenched, his breath sharp as he snatched the page from her hands and held it to the firelight. His amber eyes darkened, his expression shifting from rigid control to something raw and furious.

  Then, without a word, he stood abruptly, pacing before the hearth, fists tight, knuckles white. The flames illuminated the tension in his shoulders and how his breath came harder and heavier, controlled only by sheer force of will.

  Through gritted teeth, he finally spoke. “That is a picture of a young warrior named Varek Thalrasi.” His voice was low, barely restrained. “And yes… he is the one who tried to remove your core.”

  Elysia’s breath left her in a sharp gasp. The room seemed to tilt as realization crashed over her.

  “He was Thalrasi…” she whispered. “And he’s the one hunting me.”

  Ronan turned to her, his expression grim. “He has always been hunting you. And he will not stop.” His voice was edged with something darker, something close to hatred. “What he did to you—what he tried to take—it was never just about power. It was about erasing you.”

  Elysia swallowed hard, her hands trembling slightly as she stared at the sketch. The eyes, the presence, the haunting familiarity—it all made sense now. “I remember him,” she murmured. “Not fully, but enough. The pain, the fire, the feeling of being ripped apart. He was there.”

  Ronan closed the distance between them in two strides, kneeling before her. He gently took the drawing from her grasp and set it aside, his hands closing around hers, grounding her. “You are not that girl anymore. You are stronger. And you are not alone. I have assembled the smartest, fiercest, supernaturals in the world. He will not touch you again.”

  She met his gaze, the warmth of his hands seeping into hers, steadying her. But the fear lingered at the edges of her thoughts, an unshakable whisper of the past creeping into the present.

  Varek Thalrasi had stolen her fire once.

  She would not let him retake it.

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