Chapter 21 – A Line in the Sand

The wind howled through the ruins, stirring Elira's dark cloak as she locked eyes with Damien.

He had found her.

Despite everything—despite her running, despite the danger, despite the world turning against them—he was here.

But he wasn't the same man she had left behind.

There was something different about him now.

A hardness in his jaw. A quiet storm in his blue eyes.

He was done chasing ghosts.

And she?

She wasn't sure she was the woman he had loved anymore.

The air between them crackled with something unspoken, something fragile and dangerous all at once.

"Elira." His voice was deep, steady, but edged with something close to desperation.

She clenched her fists at her sides. "You shouldn't have come."

He took a step forward. "And you shouldn't have left."

A sharp breath caught in her throat. She had expected anger, accusations, maybe even hatred.

But what she saw in his eyes?

It was something worse.

It was heartbreak.

Elira swallowed hard, glancing at the three Council members still standing behind her. Selene and the others had been silent since Damien arrived, watching the encounter with unreadable expressions.

"Elira," Selene murmured, stepping closer. "We need to leave."

Elira knew that.

The Council was still hunting her. If they found her here—if they found him—there would be no mercy.

But leaving now, just as Damien had finally reached her?

It felt like severing something she wasn't ready to lose.

"I'm not going back," she said softly.

Damien's jaw tightened. "Why?"

Because I'm dangerous.

Because they'll kill me.

Because I don't know if I can love you without destroying you.

A thousand reasons burned on her tongue, but none of them left her lips.

Damien exhaled sharply. "You think running will save you?"

"I don't need saving."

"That's not what I asked."

Her breath hitched.

Damn him.

Damn him for always seeing through her.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The night pressed in around them, thick with the weight of everything left unsaid.

Then, finally, Damien did something unexpected.

He stepped forward—past the invisible boundary she had drawn between them—and reached for her hand.

"Elira," he said, his voice low. "Come home."

Her fingers trembled in his.

For a single heartbeat, she wanted to say yes.

To let him pull her into his arms.

To pretend that they could be something normal, something human.

But she wasn't.

She never had been.

And now, the world knew it.

"I can't," she whispered.

Damien's grip on her hand tightened.

"Then tell me the truth," he said. "The real reason you left."

Elira's throat burned.

Because I love you.

Because I'm afraid.

Because something dark is coming, and I don't know if I'm strong enough to fight it—

Her thoughts cut off as Selene suddenly tensed.

"Elira," Selene murmured urgently. "We have to go. Now."

A chill ran down Elira's spine.

Something was wrong.

She felt it in her bones, in the way the air shifted, in the way the night darkened unnaturally.

Damien noticed it, too. His grip on her hand tightened even further, his body tensing like a predator sensing danger.

"Elira?" he asked.

She barely heard him.

Because suddenly, the shadows at the edge of the ruins moved.

A dozen figures stepped forward, cloaked in black, their faces hidden.

The High Council had found her.

"Elira of the First Bloodline," a voice boomed through the night. "By the laws of the Order, you are hereby sentenced to death."

No.

Elira's heart slammed against her ribs.

Not now.

Not when Damien was here.

Not when she had no plan.

Damien's grip on her hand turned almost bruising. "Get behind me," he growled.

She yanked her hand free. "You don't understand—"

"Elira." His voice was sharp. Commanding. "Get. Behind. Me."

The assassins moved as one.

Selene and the other Council members reacted instantly, summoning waves of magic to shield themselves.

Elira's own power surged to the surface, her hands sparking with golden fire.

But Damien?

Damien did not move.

Instead, he reached inside his jacket—and pulled out a gun.

Elira's breath caught.

Magic and bullets.

Two worlds colliding.

The first assassin lunged—

And Damien fired.

The bullet tore through the air, striking the assassin in the chest. He staggered back, clutching at his wound, but he didn't fall.

Instead, he growled.

And then his body healed instantly.

Damien cursed under his breath. "Of course."

Elira acted without thinking.

She flung out her hands, a pulse of golden energy exploding from her fingertips. The assassin was thrown backward, slamming into a stone pillar with a sickening crack.

Another figure lunged toward Damien.

Not on my watch.

Elira twisted her fingers—and the air around them rippled.

The second assassin froze mid-step, his body locked in place as if time itself had stopped.

Damien stared at the unmoving attacker, then back at her.

For the first time since he had arrived, there was fear in his eyes.

But not of the assassins.

Of her.

"Elira," he breathed.

She swallowed hard.

She had wanted to protect him.

To keep him safe.

But now, as the golden light of her magic flickered around them, she realized the truth.

Damien wasn't just afraid for her anymore.

He was afraid of her.

And maybe… just maybe…

He was right to be.