Elara's POV
I spin around, heart hammering. The footsteps stop.
The alley behind me is empty. Just shadows and fog. But I know someone was there. I heard them.
Nessa's words echo in my mind. He's watching.
"Show yourself!" My voice cuts through the silence.
Nothing. Only wind whistling through broken buildings.
I don't have time for this. Nessa's getting worse—I can feel her pulse weakening against my chest. I turn and run, her body bouncing in my arms. My feet pound against wet cobblestones. I need to reach the market district. Someone there will have a cart heading north.
As I run, the memories slam into me. I can't stop them.
THREE MONTHS AGO
"You look beautiful," Mira said, adjusting the flowers in my hair. "Davrien won't be able to take his eyes off you."
I laughed, staring at myself in the mirror. My engagement party. In one hour, I'd officially become Commander Davrien Castor's fiancée. The Royal Sanctum's youngest Master Healer marrying the kingdom's rising military star. Everyone said we were perfect together.
"I'm so nervous," I admitted.
"Don't be." Mira squeezed my shoulder. She was my best friend, had been since our first day at the Sanctum. "This is your night. Enjoy it."
The ballroom glittered with candles and magic lights. Healers, nobles, and military officers filled the space. Davrien stood at the center, handsome in his uniform, talking with his commanders. When he saw me, he smiled—the smile that made my stomach flip.
"There's my brilliant fiancée," he said, taking my hand. His lips brushed my knuckles. "Ready to be the center of attention?"
"With you? Always."
Nessa bounced over, her dress swirling. At sixteen, she was all energy and music. "This party is amazing! Can you believe your boring sister is marrying a commander?"
I hugged her tight. "You better behave tonight."
"When do I ever misbehave?" She grinned, then spun away to steal cookies from the dessert table.
Everything was perfect. Too perfect.
The High Healer gave a speech about my accomplishments. Davrien's father toasted our future. Music played. People danced. I felt like I was floating.
Then Nessa screamed.
The sound cut through the music like a knife. Everyone froze.
My sister stood by the punch table, her hand clutching her chest. Her face twisted in agony.
"Nessa!" I ran to her, pushing through the crowd.
She collapsed before I reached her. I caught her, lowering her to the floor. Her skin was burning hot.
"Get back! Give her space!" Davrien ordered the crowd.
I pressed my hand to Nessa's forehead, channeling my healing magic. But something was wrong. Dark veins spread across her neck like cracks in glass. They pulsed with sick energy.
"What's happening to her?" My mother's voice, panicked.
"I don't know." My hands shook as I examined Nessa. The veins were spreading fast—down her arms, across her chest. "This isn't natural."
"Is it a curse?" Mira knelt beside me, her healer's training kicking in.
"I think so." My stomach dropped. Curses were rare. Dangerous. Illegal.
Nessa's eyes opened, unfocused and terrified. "It hurts. Elara, it hurts so much."
"I know, sweetie. I'm fixing it." But I wasn't. My healing magic hit the curse and bounced off like hitting a wall.
"Move." The High Healer pushed through. He examined Nessa, his face growing pale. "Dark magic. Very advanced. We need to get her to the Sanctum immediately."
They carried Nessa away on a floating stretcher. I tried to follow, but Davrien caught my arm.
"Let the High Healer handle it," he said. "You're too emotional right now."
"That's my sister!"
"I know. But you can't help her if you're panicking." His voice was calm, rational. "Trust the Sanctum."
I wanted to argue, but he was right. I was shaking too hard to think straight.
The party ended. Guests whispered as they left. I heard the words "dark magic" and "curse" and "who would do this?"
That night, I sat by Nessa's bed in the Sanctum's medical wing. The High Healer had stabilized her, but the curse remained. The black veins had stopped spreading, but they wouldn't fade.
"We'll figure this out," I promised Nessa's unconscious form. "I'll save you."
For two weeks, I worked non-stop. I tried every healing technique I knew. I consulted with senior healers. I searched the medical libraries for anything about curse-breaking.
Nothing worked.
Then I found the restricted section. The forbidden books locked away because they dealt with dark magic. With necromancy. With death.
I knew it was against the rules. But rules didn't matter when Nessa was dying.
Late at night, I picked the lock and slipped inside. Dust covered everything. These books hadn't been touched in years. I found volumes on curses, on death magic, on the forbidden arts.
I was so focused on reading that I didn't hear the door open.
"Elara? What are you doing?"
I spun around. Mira stood in the doorway, her eyes wide.
"Mira! I can explain—"
"You're reading necromancy books?" Her voice rose. "Are you insane? If anyone finds out—"
"Nessa is dying!" I clutched the book to my chest. "The High Healer said there's nothing he can do. These books might have answers."
"They're forbidden for a reason." Mira stepped closer, her face pale. "Elara, you're playing with dark magic. This could destroy you."
"I don't care! She's my sister!"
Mira stared at me for a long moment. Then she sighed. "Fine. But be careful. If the Sanctum finds out, I can't protect you."
I thought she understood. I thought she'd keep my secret.
I was so stupid.
Three days later, the Sanctum guards came for me during morning rounds. They dragged me to the Council chamber. The High Healer sat at the center, his face like stone.
"Master Healer Elara Thorne, you are accused of practicing dark magic."
My blood turned to ice.
And there, standing beside the High Healer as a witness, was Mira. She wouldn't meet my eyes.
PRESENT
A hand grabs my shoulder, yanking me backward.
I scream, spinning around with Nessa still in my arms.
A man in a dark cloak stands there, hood covering his face. "Stop running," he says. His voice is deep and cold. "You can't reach him in time."
"Who are you?"
He steps closer. "Someone who knows what you're planning. Going to the Death Keeper is suicide."
"I don't have a choice!"
"There's always a choice." His hand moves to his belt, where I see the glint of a blade. "And some choices get you killed."
Behind him, two more figures emerge from the shadows. All wearing the same dark cloaks. All moving toward me with deadly purpose.
I back away, clutching Nessa. "Stay away from us!"
The man laughs. "You should have stayed in your little apartment, healer. Now you've made things complicated."
He draws his blade.
And I realize with horrible clarity—these people aren't here to stop me from reaching the Death Keeper.
They're here to make sure Nessa dies.