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She took a step back, and he felt the loss of her presence like a physical blow. He wanted to reach for her, to pull her back into his arms. But he forced himself to turn away, and he didn’t look back.
He couldn’t. If he looked back, he was afraid he’d never be able to leave.
The streets of Luminara were still cloaked in darkness, the only light the pale glow of the moon and the distant flicker of the city’s wards. Osric stood outside the bookshop, the cool night air a harsh contrast to the warmth that had enveloped him inside. He felt raw, exposed, the scars on his chest and face still throbbing, a painful reminder of everything that had passed between them. He should go, he knew. He should go back to the forge, to his training, to the mission that had brought him here. He had no business feeling this way, this torn, this . . .
He let out a long breath, his shoulders slumping. No, he knew he couldn’t go back, not yet. He needed time to think, to clear his head. He needed to be sure that he could trust himself, that he wouldn’t do anything foolish, like put Hali in danger. He needed to be sure that he could still carry out his mission, even with the distraction of her, her smile, her laughter, her impossibly kind heart.
With a heavy heart, he turned away from the bookshop, and he started to walk.
He didn’t know where he was going, not really. His feet seemed to move of their own accord, following a path he’d taken many times before, with Hali at his side. He walked through the winding streets of Luminara, the city slowly coming to life around him, the first hints of dawn painting the sky.
Before he knew it, he had reached the Groves, a park-like area on the edge of the city, a wild, untamed stretch of land that the citizens of Luminara had preserved as a reminder of the world that had once been. The air was cool and bracing, the only sounds the rustle of the trees and the distant cry of a wild creature. It was beautiful, and lonely, and for now, he let himself pretend that he was somewhere else, that he was a different person, with a different life.
He sank down onto a stone bench, the cool air of the grove wrapping around him. He was so tired, bone-deep tired, in a way that had nothing to do with the long night he’d just endured. It was a weariness of the soul, a heaviness that he couldn’t cast off. He felt . . . lost, adrift, and he didn’t know how to find his way back.
He thought of Hali, of the look in her eyes, the gentleness and stubbornness she wielded in equal measure. He’d never met anyone like her. She was a force of nature, an unstoppable tide, and he was just a pebble, a tiny, insignificant thing, easily washed away. He wanted to be more, for her. He wanted to be strong, and brave, the kind of person she thought he was.
But he wasn’t. He was a killer, a soldier, a weapon, honed and shaped by the Forge of Vulkan. He had a duty, a mission, and nothing, not even the pull of Hali’s gravity, could change that.
He closed his eyes, and he let his head fall back against the stone.
Osric tried to focus on his breathing, the rise and fall of his chest, the hushed nighttime stillness of the Groves. He tried to let his thoughts drift by, like leaves on a stream. He tried to clear his mind, to find that stillness, that quiet place at his core.
But the more he tried to push thoughts of Hali away, the more they seemed to fill his mind. Her laughter, like a song. Her eyes, warm and kind. The way she’d looked at him, as if he was something more, something better than he was.
He reached up, his fingers tracing the ember runes that marked him as an outcast, a weapon, a tool. He had always carried them with a sense of pride, of duty. But now, he felt only a hollowness, a loss. He was adrift, the moorings that had held him in place for so long suddenly gone.
What was he, if not a weapon? If not a soldier, a hunter, a killer? What was his purpose, if not to carry out the mission that the Forge had given him?
He closed his eyes, and he tried to remember that sense of duty, that fire that had always burned so bright within him. But all he saw was Hali’s face, and the flame guttered, and died.
He didn’t know how long he sat there, lost in the tangle of his thoughts. He didn’t know what he was going to do, how he was going to reconcile this new, impossible pull. He only knew that he couldn’t go back to the way things had been, before he’d met Hali. He couldn’t go back to the cold, lonely path he’d been walking.
He was so lost in thought that he almost didn’t hear the footsteps approaching, the soft crunch of leaves underfoot. He tensed, his hand going to the hilt of his dagger, before he recognized the figure emerging from the darkness.
“Agnith,” Osric said, his voice low.
“Osric.” Agnith stepped closer, his face grim in the moonlight. “We have a problem.”
Osric’s heart leaped in his chest, and he forced himself to his feet, to stand at attention. “I concur.”
Chapter
Seven
The Starlight Sanctum loomed ahead, a grand, gothic-elven masterpiece that beckoned visitors from all across Luminara’s Artisan District. With its celestial motifs, ancient stone carvings, and eerie elven magic, there was an air of romance and danger that surrounded the mansion’s facade, and Hali’s pulse quickened at the thought of the secrets awaiting her inside. She’d spent her whole life lost in dreams and stories, letting the words of bards and sages, the script of grimoires and tomes, shape the contours of her world. But now, the promise of a true adventure, a mystery waiting to be unraveled, danced just out of reach. She just needed to find the key.
The door to the Starlight Sanctum creaked open, and a cloaked figure emerged, the noonday sun momentarily haloing them. Hali stumbled forward, a plea ready on her lips, but the figure merely nodded to her and swept away down the street.
She paused on the threshold, peering into the dimly lit entrance hall, the space stretching on for what felt like miles. Arcane wonders glimmered within, and a rich, musty scent, like ancient parchment and long-forgotten spells, beckoned her inside.
Halizanth entered the Sanctum’s spacious main hall, the grandeur of the polished marble floors and the array of magical artifacts on display momentarily overwhelming her. She meandered through the endless nooks and crannies, envisioning the adventures that awaited her around every twist in the hallways and secret doorways. The library, crammed with tomes on every imaginable subject; the alchemy lab, bubbling with mysterious brews; the gardens and greenhouse, where rare and magical plants thrived in the dappled sunlight.
“Welcome, welcome!” A lilting voice called out, shattering the stillness of the hall, and a figure appeared at the top of the grand staircase. She was a vision in shades of amethyst and silver, her long hair braided with delicate blooms that matched her embroidered robes. A wraithwolf pup, all shimmering mist and glowing eyes, pranced at her side. “I am Illyria Moondrop, the proprietor of the Starlight Sanctum. And you are . . . Halizanth, was it? Tiberon informed me you might be dropping by. I’ve heard so much about you, my dear, and I cannot tell you how delighted I am that you’ve finally graced us with your presence.”
Halizanth’s face flushed as she clambered up the stairs, her satchel thumping against her side. “Oh! Well. Yes. That is, I’ve been meaning to visit the Sanctum for simply ages, but you know how it is, the days just slip away from you, and there are always more books to catalogue, and shipments to sort, and customers to assist, and it’s not that I didn’t want to come, because I absolutely did, it’s just that I haven’t had a proper reason to, and I didn’t want to impose, but then this matter came up, and I knew that this was the perfect opportunity to pay a visit, and?—”
Illyria’s laughter tinkled through the air. “Breathe, my dear. It’s quite all right. I’m only teasing you. Now, what is this matter you speak of? Something you need my assistance with?”
