The next morning, they were on the road again.
Elena and Seamus rode in an unmarked matte-black carriage, guarded by riders on all sides. The journey back to the Matteo estate was supposed to be uneventful. Quiet. Safe.
Seamus, half-asleep, lay with his head resting in Elena's lap, her fingers absently carding through his dark curls. A rare moment of peace stretched between them, silent and sacred.
The tension of the night before had not yet worn off. But for now, their breaths matched. Calm. Steady.
Until the silence broke.
Hoofbeats.
Loud, frantic, pounding fast.
The horses weren't theirs.
Elena's eyes snapped toward the carriage window. Her body stiffened, breath catching as she caught sight of a banner unfurling in the distance.
Red. Gold. Crossed spears.
The flags of the Inquisition.
"Seamus," she whispered, shaking his shoulder. "Seamus—wake up. Look."
He groaned awake, eyes sluggish—then narrowed in fury as he took in the sight for himself. The banner. The speed. The trajectory.
"They never learn," he muttered darkly, reaching instinctively for the pistol strapped to his side. It was already loaded.
Elena's magic sparked at her fingertips, a violet orb forming and crackling in her palm. She stretched it out between her hands, reshaping it into a jagged blade—hot and pulsing with raw power. Her eyes glowed faintly, the scent of ozone filling the air.
But before they could act—
BOOM.
The entire world tilted sideways.
The carriage lurched violently, wheels jumping before slamming down onto a mana mine buried beneath the road. The explosion threw them into the walls as the entire structure rolled once—twice—then crashed onto its side.
Elena groaned, half-buried in crushed velvet and twisted iron. She crawled toward Seamus, blood trickling down her temple. His body was motionless.
"Seamus?" she called out, voice trembling. "Seamus!"
His eyes were shut. Blood streamed from a cut on his temple, vivid and red against his pale skin.
She pulled him into her arms, shaking. "Please, love, please wake up…"
Outside, chaos erupted.
Gunfire. Magic blasts. Screams. Metal against metal.
"Heretics!"
"Witch whore!"
"Blasphemy!"
The words cut like blades through the smoke and noise.
The carriage door was flung open-
A twisted Inquisition agent stood in the frame, teeth bared.
Elena didn't hesitate.
She flung her magic blade directly into his chest-
He flew back, smashing into another agent with a sickening thud.
Another blast rocked the carriage. It rolled again, sending both her and Seamus crashing into the opposite wall. Elena hit hard, a shard of window glass slicing deep across her left forearm.
She gasped, looking down.
Blood gushed. Bone glinted white beneath the torn skin.
Teeth clenched, Elena grabbed a strip of torn cloth and shoved it into her mouth, muffling her screams. Purple light began to gather around her fingertips. With a sob, she pressed them into the wound, cauterizing the flesh shut with a hiss of burning magic.
The pain was blinding.
She could barely breathe.
And still, Seamus didn't stir.
Her hands trembled as she held him close, blood soaking into both their clothes. Her vision blurred from pain and loss, but she would not stop.
Not now.
She held onto Seamus with one arm. With the other, she summoned her final reserves of mana. Her eyes blazed violet as she whispered a spell—an escape technique learned from her time deep within the black market's arcane chambers.
"Tu vela, mi portal…"
With a final snap of her fingers-
CRACK.
A thunderous clap of magic echoed out as the two vanished in a burst of purple light.
Puerto Cuidad — The Black Market Caves
Waves crashed against the cliffs. Salt sprayed through the hidden alcove.
With a crack, Elena and Seamus appeared at the mouth of the market tunnel—then collapsed hard onto the stone floor.
Seamus rolled limply beside her. Elena gasped, completely drained, her body limp. Her fingers reached for his—just a half-inch from touching—
And then, everything went black.
Moments Later
The stairway entrance exploded open.
A hooded figure sprinted forward, robes flying. Their boots slid against wet stone as they dropped to their knees between the two broken bodies.
The hood fell back.
Niegal.
His silver-streaked hair clung to his face, eyes wild with rage and fear. He looked between the two—Seamus bleeding, Elena's arm scorched and trembling.
Her skin was shredded from shattered glass, blood mixing with dirt and mana residue.
Niegal's jaw tightened.
The Church is retaliating now, he thought bitterly. The war has begun.
He scooped Elena into his arms, her head lolling limply against his chest. More hooded figures appeared from the tunnel—market healers, cloaked in secrecy.
They lifted Seamus carefully, rushing him down toward the sealed medical sanctum.
Water lapped at the market floor. The tide was rising. Vendors shuttered their stalls.
There was no time.
Somewhere Else
Elena floated in a familiar darkness.
Her breath echoed, weightless.
Am I in the void again?
She felt warmth pulse through her. For a moment, she relaxed. Until-
She blinked.
And her wrists were bound.
Her hands tied behind her back, shackled to a stake. A dry wind howled around her. Her feet burned.
The sun was too bright.
Shouts echoed across the clearing; angry, hateful.
A crowd.
A mob.
She turned her head. Her hair was matted. Her dress torn.
A man stood before her, armored, faceless behind a helm. A torch burned in his gloved hand.
A sudden realization pierced her.
This is the past.
Another vision.
She wept, tears streaking through ash and grime. A sad, strained smile broke across her face.
She could feel the flames beginning to lick at her feet.
And then she saw it.
The helmet of Sotomatteo.
His head still inside.
Eyes open. Blank.
Staring straight at her.
She screamed.
Once.
Twice.
Endlessly.
Until the pain returned-
A stabbing, aching pain in her chest.
Elena lurched upright, gasping violently.
She was on a cot, surrounded by dim light and herbs.
She clawed at her chest, desperate and disoriented. Her nails scratched her skin.
"¡Calmate, calmate!"
Niegal rushed over from Seamus' bedside, hands glowing green as he grabbed hers. His voice was low, steady. Anchoring.
"You're safe. It's safe now."
Her breathing slowed, barely. Blood streaked her nails. Scratches now marked her collarbone.
She turned her head, eyes wide.
Seamus.
He was still.
But… was that his hand? Was it moving?
Elena couldn't find out.
Darkness pulled her under again.