29

Elara staggered as she reached the bottom of the spiraling stairway, her breath uneven. The stone beneath her feet pulsed faintly, as if the ground itself was alive, reacting to her presence. The book at her back remained inert, offering no guidance now, no whispers of power.

The silence stretched around her, thick and expectant.

She had passed the first trial, but something gnawed at the edge of her awareness. The voice had not spoken again, and that absence felt wrong. As she took a step forward, the air grew heavier, pressing against her chest like unseen hands. The weight was suffocating, cloying, and with every breath, she felt the power she had wielded moments ago unraveling within her.

Then it hit her.

She wasn't ready.

The energy inside her was unstable, raw and untamed. It had obeyed her will for a fleeting moment, but if she pushed further—if she continued before she understood its nature—she could lose control. The power wasn't just a gift; it was volatile, unpredictable. If she stayed here, if she faced the next trial without mastering it first, she might not survive.

Or worse. It might consume her from the inside out.

Her fingers twitched involuntarily. The tips tingled with the same eerie sensation she had felt when the figures of shadow had lunged at her. The book had helped her then, but what if it failed her now? What if the next time she used this energy, she couldn't stop it?

The thought sent a chill through her.

She clenched her fists. No. She wouldn't take that risk. Not now. Not without understanding what she had awakened within herself.

She had to return home.

The realization settled heavily in her chest. Turning back felt like failure, but she knew this was different. This wasn't retreat. This was survival.

But there was another problem.

The gateway she had stepped through was gone.

Panic surged in her veins, but she forced herself to think. There had to be another way out. If this place had brought her here, then it had to have an exit. The air vibrated slightly, as though responding to her thoughts, and suddenly, as if summoned by her desperation, the walls began to shift.

The spiraling stairway that had led her down into the abyss twisted, reforming into a jagged corridor stretching into the darkness. A faint shimmer lined the edges, the same otherworldly glow that had marked the archway when she had first entered this place.

Was this the way back?

She hesitated for only a second before striding forward.

The corridor twisted and stretched impossibly, as though space itself bent and unfurled around her. The sensation of movement without motion made her stomach lurch, but she kept her gaze forward. Then, just as abruptly as it had started, the distortion ceased. She found herself standing before a doorway of smooth obsidian, the symbols carved into its surface pulsing with a dull light.

Elara reached out, pressing her palm against the stone.

A sudden pull, like an invisible thread yanking at her core, and then—

Light.

Blinding, searing light.

She stumbled forward, shielding her eyes. The heavy scent of damp stone vanished, replaced by the crisp, familiar air of the mountains.

She was back.

The dense forest stretched before her, the towering trees swaying gently in the wind. The stars above twinkled as if undisturbed, indifferent to her journey. And nestled within the distance, barely visible through the thick foliage, was her home.

Relief flooded her veins, but it was short-lived. The book pulsed once against her back, almost in protest, as if it knew what she was about to do.

Elara ignored it. She had made her choice.

She moved quickly, weaving through the undergrowth. The night air was cold against her skin, grounding her in reality. Her legs ached from exhaustion, but she didn't stop until she reached the familiar wooden steps of her family's cabin. The door was locked, of course.

Her key.

She had left it inside.

Cursing under her breath, she glanced around. The windows were dark. No sign of her mother's lantern or the soft glow of the fireplace. She was still out, which meant she had time.

Taking a deep breath, she reached under the third step, her fingers searching for the loose wooden slat. With a quiet snap, it lifted, revealing a small, rusted tin. Inside lay the spare key, cool against her trembling fingers.

She unlocked the door and slipped inside, closing it softly behind her.

The cabin smelled of old wood and the faint remnants of burnt sage. Everything was just as she had left it. The table where she had last studied the book was undisturbed, her chair still slightly pulled out. The familiarity was almost surreal, as if no time had passed at all.

She exhaled and moved toward her mother's chest of belongings in the far corner. She needed the real key—the one that would let her into the hidden study beneath the cabin, where her mother kept the things she never spoke about.

Where she had kept the book before Elara found it.

Her hands trembled as she sifted through the contents, pushing aside old maps, dried herbs, and forgotten trinkets. Then, beneath a worn leather pouch, her fingers brushed against something cold and metallic.

The key.

She pulled it free, studying its intricate engravings. The same symbols from the book marked its surface, faint but unmistakable.

The air in the room shifted.

Elara's breath caught in her throat.

Something was watching her.

Slowly, she turned, her heart hammering against her ribs. The cabin was still, but the shadows cast by the fire's dying embers flickered unnaturally along the walls.

Then, a whisper—soft, almost familiar.

"You shouldn't have come back."

Elara froze. The voice wasn't her mother's. It wasn't the voice from the trials. It was something else. Something here.

Her grip tightened on the key.

She needed to leave. Now.

Swallowing her fear, she backed toward the door, every muscle in her body tense. She didn't know what had followed her back, but she wasn't about to find out.

She had the key. And with it, she would find the truth.

The book trembled against her spine, as if it, too, knew what was coming.

She turned and ran.