The storm came that night.
Winds howled through the broken eaves of Everrest. Rain lashed against the windows like nails tapping to be let in. Somewhere above her, something heavy scraped across the attic floor—as if the house was shifting in its sleep.
But Lyra didn't hide.
She waited.
In the mirror room.
The Book of Binding sat closed beside her. The candles were lit, casting flickering golden halos across the walls. She had written her name again on a scrap of paper and left it at the center of the circle, like an offering.
When the hour turned—he came.
Not in the mirror this time.
He stepped through it.
Elias.
The same ageless face, the same sorrow in his eyes—but his form was clearer now, less flickering shadow and more real. Like the house was letting him out a little more each time.
"You shouldn't be here," he said.
"I need answers," Lyra whispered. "You said I made a promise. I need to know what that means."
He didn't move. "I was supposed to forget. Each binding is meant to hollow me out. But your face—your voice—brings it back."
Lyra knelt in front of him. "Tell me. Please."
He stared at the floor. "They used my soul to protect this house. To trap something darker, something beneath the Hollow. I wasn't the only one. There were others… but I'm the only one left."
"And me?" she asked. "What do I have to do with this?"
"You're the last blood. The final Vale." Elias raised his gaze. "You're the soul key. Only you can unbind me. But if you do…"
He trailed off.