Chapter 2

The fire was out. The acrid smell of smoke still clung to everything, a ghost of the disaster I had prevented. I stood in the scorched hallway, my hands trembling slightly from the effort. The blue light of my lifeblood faded, leaving me feeling drained and empty. I had saved the west wing, and more importantly, I had saved him from the fate I remembered. But the relief was overshadowed by a deep, aching coldness in my chest.

He was still there, standing by the doorway of my chamber. Kaelen. He hadn't left. He was watching me, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable but hard. Lyra was with him now, clinging to his arm, her face buried in his shoulder as she let out soft, theatrical sobs. "Kaelen, I was so scared," she whimpered. "The fire... it was right outside my door." He patted her back gently, his cold gaze never leaving my face. "It's alright, Lyra. I'm here. I won't let anyone hurt you."

The words were meant for her, but they were aimed at me. He still believed I had set the fire. He thought I was a monster. I felt a bitter laugh rise in my throat, but I swallowed it down. What was the point of defending myself? He had already judged me. I looked away from them, my eyes landing on a blackened wooden beam. In my past life, that beam had fallen, trapping him. I had been too late. This time, it stood, scarred but intact. That was all that mattered.

I let out a shaky breath, a single tear finally escaping and tracing a cold path down my cheek. I quickly wiped it away. I had to let go of the past, of the Elara who yearned for his affection. That girl was gone. She had died with him. I was a ghost with a mission now. I had to save him, and then I had to disappear from his life, so he could live happily with the woman he loved. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but it was my penance.

The first rays of dawn were breaking outside, casting a pale light into the gloomy sect. In the distance, I could hear the faint sounds of celebration. The Festival of Lights. It was supposed to be a time of joy and new beginnings. I remembered the last festival we' d shared, years ago, before everything went wrong. He had promised me we would watch the lanterns together, a promise that was shattered by Lyra' s sudden "illness." The memory was a dull ache.

Suddenly, Kaelen moved. He gently pushed Lyra behind him and took a step toward me. My breath caught in my throat. I expected more accusations, more coldness. But his expression had changed. It was still guarded, but there was something else there, something I couldn't identify. "Elara," he said, his voice low. "We need to talk." His unexpected words threw me off balance. This was not how it happened last time. This was new.