The wind stirred the ashes of the ruined chapel, and with it, the silence between them deepened.
Elira stood still, her eyes fixed on the scorched floor. Beneath her boots lay the stone marked with her name—Elira Morvant, carved in ancient script, surrounded by runes she didn't recognize. It hummed faintly with old magic, the kind that made her skin crawl.
She didn't want to look at Caelum. Not yet. Not while her thoughts twisted like a noose tightening around her own doubts.
He'd let her believe for years that he'd murdered her family.
And now, standing in the remains of a place that should have been sacred, she realized he knew far more than he ever let on.
She finally spoke, her voice low but sharp. "You've brought me here before, haven't you?"
Caelum stood a few paces behind her, his expression unreadable in the cold half-light. "You brought yourself."
Elira turned to face him. "Don't start speaking in riddles now. Not after everything."
"I've always spoken in riddles," he said mildly. "You just weren't listening."
A spark of anger flared in her chest. "Stop playing games with me. I saw this place in my dreams before we ever arrived. You knew what it meant. You knew I'd find that seal."
He didn't deny it. But he didn't confirm it either.
She took a step toward him. "You knew about my name being here. About the runes. The magic in this place. The Brotherhood was waiting for me. They called me 'Daughter of Morvant.' They knew who I was. And so do you."
Silence.
And then, softly, Caelum said, "They know many things. They remember more than they should."
Elira's fists clenched. "Why won't you just tell me the truth?"
"I've told you the truth," he said, voice almost too calm. "Just not all of it. And not yet."
"That's not the same as honesty."
He didn't argue.
She took another step, her breath forming clouds in the cold air. "Did you kill my family?"
His gaze flicked to hers.
A pause. Too long.
And then: "You've already decided I did."
"I want to hear it from you."
He looked at her, and for a heartbeat, something flickered in his eyes—guilt? Pity? Or something older?
But all he said was, "Would you believe me if I said no?"
The air between them tensed like a drawn bow.
Elira's magic stirred under her skin, restless and waiting. She wanted to scream. To lash out. To force the answers out of him. But instead, she asked, quietly, "Why are you protecting me?"
Caelum tilted his head, as if considering the question. Then, simply: "I'm not."
Another non-answer.
Another wall.
She stepped away from him, pacing, her cloak dragging behind her over blackened stone. The pendant around her neck had grown warm again. Like it was reacting to him. Or the seal. Or both.
"You let me hunt you," she said, more to herself now. "You always stayed just far enough to never be caught."
"I never ran," he replied.
"Don't twist your words like a blade," she snapped. "You knew I'd find this place. You led me here."
"You followed your own blood," he said. "That's what brought you. Not me."
She stopped pacing.
He was still dancing around the truth. Every word a maze, every sentence half a key.
"You're hiding something," she whispered.
"I'm hiding everything," he said, a flicker of wryness in his tone. "You should have figured that out by now."
Elira glared at him. "You think this is a joke?"
"No," he said, quieter now. "But if I told you everything… you'd run. Or worse—you'd listen."
*
For a long while, neither of them spoke.
The ruined chapel groaned with the wind. Far off, the boy they'd rescued still slept beneath a shield of Elira's magic. The firelight from their earlier battle had faded into dull embers.
Elira moved back toward the seal. Her name etched into stone. A seal built to hold something—or protect it.
And in the center of it all, the question that refused to die:
Why her?
She turned one last time to Caelum. "If you're going to keep walking in circles, then leave. I'll find the truth myself."
He didn't move. "You will. But when you do, you'll wish you hadn't."
Then, like smoke caught in a breeze, he turned and vanished into the night—silent, infuriating, and still unreadable.
*
Elira stood alone in the ruin, heart pounding, anger twisting into uncertainty. For years, her hatred had given her direction. Her pain had made sense.
Now?
Now the past was cracking open, and inside was something she couldn't name.
She looked at the seal again.
"Daughter of Morvant."
"The blood that cannot die."
And above all, the question: If her family had truly been murdered by vampires…
Why had her name been carved into a protection seal meant to survive the massacre?