Chapter 39 – A Thread Through Shadow
*
I carved my spells in blood and bone, but none could make this heart your own. I held your hand and dared to stay, though silence begged I look away.
I loved you once, I love you still. Through every storm, against my will. Yet all I spoke, I spoke too late, and now we stand at mercy’s gate.
Your son may lie in lands unmade, Where gods don’t reach, and light must fade. But still I cast—through pain, through flame. If just to whisper once his name.
And if I lose what I confess… At least I spoke. At least no less.
*
---
It was finally time.
The last rune had been carved. The final incantation hung on the edge of my breath. Everything—the books, the chants, the blood-drawn glyphs, the sleepless nights—had led to this.
And yet, I couldn’t bring myself to cast it. Not yet.
Bellatrix stood beside me in the center of my study, silent and still. Between us, stretching across nearly half the room, the massive map shimmered faintly under the spelllight. Old parchment, stained with time and sealed beneath protective glass, bore the accumulated knowledge of thousands of years. Every mountain range, every ocean trench, every inch of empire and ruin we had uncovered—marked and named.
And still… it was so empty.
No matter how long I stared at it, I could never grow used to the hollow ache that settled in my chest. The gaps weren’t minor—the unknown territories weren’t some far-off islands or uncharted borders. They were entire continents, entire oceans, entire skies that had yet to be seen.
The blankness began at the edge and deep within, a jagged absence that carved into our knowledge like a blade through parchment. Nearly half of the known world was simply… not. A void where no spell could map, no explorer had returned from, no name had ever been written. The black ink surrounding it had faded to ash-gray, as if even the paper recoiled from recording it.
And I was about to cast a spell that could reach anywhere—even there.
If Bellatrix’s son was trapped in one of those lost places, then this spell might be the only thread that could reach him. And if it failed… if even this couldn’t find him…
My hand hovered above the final seal.
Beside me, Bellatrix exhaled shakily. I looked at her. She wasn’t breathing heavily, but her shoulders were tense—drawn tight as a bowstring. Her right hand was clenched so hard that her knuckles had gone white. The golden light of the arcane runes cast long, flickering shadows on her face, revealing how her control had begun to fray. Not visibly. Not like others would see. But I saw it.
Without thinking, I reached over and took her hand.
Her fingers flinched, just slightly, but didn’t pull away. I curled mine around hers, slowly, deliberately. Her skin was warm, trembling with barely restrained emotion. And then—slowly—that trembling began to ease. Her hand relaxed within mine.
She didn’t let go.
When she looked up at me, I saw it in her eyes—the fear, the hope, the weight of a mother’s heart. She hadn’t said anything. She didn’t need to. It was all there. A silent plea carved into every line of her face.
I should’ve looked away.
I didn’t.
Instead, something in me moved—some impulsive, desperate thing I hadn’t even known I’d been holding back. I leaned in.
And before I could stop myself, I kissed her.
It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t gentle, or perfect, or poetic. It was sudden. Impulsive. A lightning-strike of emotion that bypassed thought entirely.
Her lips were soft. Still. Frozen with the same shock that rippled through me the moment I realized what I’d done. I pulled back an inch, my heart slamming against my ribs, my chest too tight to breathe
I didn’t know what scared me more — the fact that I kissed her… or the fact that, for one impossible heartbeat,
She didn’t pull away.
I had expected her to recoil, to step back, to slap me or demand an explanation I couldn’t give.
But none of it came.
Instead, Bellatrix stood there, motionless.
Her lips parted slightly.
Eyes wide.
The silence was unbearable.
I stepped back, breath caught halfway between apology and panic. But before the weight of shame could crush me completely, I felt her fingers—still woven through mine—squeeze. Just slightly.
Just enough.
Enough to make my knees weak.
She looked at me, waiting. Not afraid. Not angry. Just waiting.
And I realized… this was it. This was the moment. The one I’d buried under duty, and fear.
I looked away first. My heart was thundering too loud, and if I kept staring into those eyes, I’d lose all composure. I took a breath—then another. It didn’t help.
I tightened my grip on her hand, grounding myself. The runes still glowed behind us. The world beyond the map was still a mystery. Her son was still missing. But in that second, none of it was louder than the storm inside me.
“I should’ve said something a long time ago,” I began, voice low, breaking. “I should’ve said this years ago, but… I was a coward.”
She said nothing.
“I’ve loved you since we were children,” I whispered. “Maybe even before I understood what love really was.”
My throat burned. The words clawed their way out, raw and alive. I forced myself to meet her gaze again, afraid and defiant in equal measure.
“I used to watch you when you laughed—when you really laughed—and I swear, the world felt lighter just hearing it. I memorized the way your nose wrinkled when something annoyed you. How you’d scowl at a crooked map or the smell of onions. And how you fought like the battlefield was your ballroom—every blade, every step, every strike, like a dance you’d mastered in another life.”
I laughed bitterly under my breath, more at myself than anything.
“Gods, I was so obvious. Everyone probably saw it. Everyone but you.”
My thumb brushed along the side of her hand, slow and gentle. She didn’t pull away.
“I made up my mind to tell you. Once. Years ago. I’d finally built the courage, told myself I’d face whatever answer you gave. But then I saw you—”
My voice cracked.
“I saw you with Adriel.”
That name still tasted like rust and regret on my tongue.
“You were smiling. Not just your polite smile—that smile. The one that meant something. I knew I was too late. And it hurt, but I told myself it didn’t matter. I told myself what mattered was your happiness. So I buried it.”
The ache returned with every memory. But this time I didn’t flinch from it. I let it rise.
“I told myself I could serve beside you, protect you, live next to you—without ever telling you the truth. And maybe I could have. If things had stayed the same.”
I turned fully to her now, holding both her hands.
“But they didn’t. We lived together. Fought together. Grieved together. Six years of waking up to your presence, hearing your voice every day. You carved yourself deeper into me. And every time I tried to bury those feelings, they just came back stronger. Louder. Until it felt like they were clawing to get out of me.”
I took one more breath—shaking, sharp. My voice softened.
“And tonight… seeing you like this. Seeing the way you’re breaking but still standing. I couldn’t hold it anymore. I couldn’t walk away again without saying it. Not when I don’t know if we’ll ever get another chance.”
Silence.
Just our breathing, steady but ragged.
She stared at me with those beautiful eyes, still unreadable. Her fingers never left mine.
Her lips parted—barely—and I could see the words forming, but I lifted a hand.
“You don’t have to say anything.” My voice was gentle. Tired. Honest. “I didn’t tell you so I could have you. I told you because… I needed you to know. That’s all. I couldn’t… carry it anymore.”
I smiled—small and weary, but real.
“It’s strange. I thought saying all of this would shatter me. But it feels like something just let go inside me. Like I can finally breathe again.”
I turned back to the map, more focused.
“Let’s try to find your son first,” I murmured, eyes tracing the swirling runes over the parchment. “You can give me your answer then, alright?”
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth.
For a moment, nothing happened.
And then—I felt her hand tighten around mine. No words. No promises. Just pressure.
And somehow, that was louder than anything she could’ve said.
My heart caught in my throat. Hope flared—terrifying and fragile. But real.
She hadn’t pulled away.
And that meant maybe—just maybe—there was still a chance.
I closed my eyes for a breath, steadying the chaos still storming in my chest. Her touch grounded me. Just for a second, I let myself stay there—in the afterglow of vulnerability. Then I exhaled and let go.
Not of her hand, not completely. Just enough to lean forward.
It was time.
I turned to the map, the ancient parchment still pulsing with the residual hum of magic, stretched across the stone slab like a living skin. My hand hovered over it for a beat. Then I placed my palm flat against its surface.
“Aelvahir tal’norèa… meraxis tenil an’dorei…”
My voice trembled, but the words came.
The language was older than kingdoms, older than memory. Each syllable tasted like ash and metal on my tongue. As I spoke, the runes drawn around the map began to stir—symbols not inked by hand but burned into the page by fire-will and oath-magic long ago.
“Vessarim eth il’Nohai… Silma tor’anthalas…”
Light flickered beneath my hand. It spread outward, veins of gold threading across every border and mountain, every coastline and forgotten sea. The entire map ignited like a star being born.
And then—
The light surged upward.
A column of golden energy exploded from the parchment into the air, twining like flame and silk as it rose. It curved and spun and compressed—no longer just light, but thought and memory, time and blood, folding inward.
I kept going. My voice steadier now.
“Ardyn valth… e’namor shal drakae—Emrys.”
The final word left my mouth like a breath I hadn’t known I was holding. And the room went silent.
The glowing tower twisted tighter and tighter until it was no thicker than a finger—then shot downward.
It struck the map like lightning.
A sharp pulse cracked the air, a breathless echo, and the glowing line vanished—leaving behind a single, concentrated gleam of light.
It hovered above the far eastern edge of the map.
The Unmarked Wilds.
A place skirting the very edge of the known world. Barely—inked in faded lines and scattered notes from those few who’d passed through. But beyond it lay nothing but blank parchment, and a crescent of pale mountain ridges curling toward the unknown like the jaws of a beast.
The light pulsed once. Then stayed.
I stared at it.
A part of me had hoped it wouldn’t work.
I didn’t say anything. Just sat back, hand still near the edge of the map, the magic cooling in my veins like dying embers.
But beside me, Bellatrix’s breath caught.
She leaned forward, her hand trembling as she reached toward the light. Her lips parted.
“…Emrys.”
She said his name like it was a prayer.
“…Emrys.”
Again, softer. Like she didn’t believe it. Like if she stopped saying it, he would disappear again.
Tears slid down her cheeks. One after another. And still she whispered his name, holding on to it like a lifeline.
I swallowed past the lump rising in my throat and slowly slipped my hand free from hers.
I didn’t want to intrude on this moment. Not now. Not after what I’d just said.
I stepped back, letting her cry.
But then—
“AH!”
Bellatrix’s sudden cry cut through the silence like a blade. I turned in alarm.
She clutched at her chest, and my eyes fell to the necklace around her throat.
The sapphire pendant—the one I had crafted myself, years ago, to tether her to him across the world—was glowing.
No, not glowing.
Burning.
The soft blue shimmer I knew so well had turned sharp, its glow blistering azure. Bellatrix’s fingers clawed at the chain, trying to unfasten it.
“Bellatrix—!”
“I-It’s hot—it’s burning—!”
She yanked it off with a sharp gasp and let it fall.
The necklace hit the floor with a clink of silver and crystal.
I grabbed her, dragging her back with me.
The sapphire, now exposed, began to change.
Before our eyes, the vibrant blue fractured—black veins crawling outward from the heart of the gem, thin and jagged like spiderweb cracks in glass. Then came the red. A deep, molten maroon bled through the fractures, as if something inside had been set alight.
I knew instantly—this wasn’t my magic. The spell had worked exactly as I intended.
This… was something else.
Something tied to him.
The hum in the air grew—low, unnatural, vibrating through my bones.
“Don’t touch it,” I said sharply, pulling Bellatrix closer and putting myself between her and the pendant. “Don’t go near it.”
“But—!” Her voice broke, her arm twitching toward the necklace.
“No.”
The red darkened until the color bled away entirely into black. Then—without warning—a sphere of pure shadow exploded from the crystal, swallowing the pendant in heat and darkness.
The magic pulsed like a heartbeat. Wrong. Twisted.
I could feel it—something had shifted in the world, as if far away, a door had been slammed shut and bolted from the other side.
The sphere collapsed in on itself, vanishing as quickly as it came.
What remained on the floor was no longer sapphire.
Black. Obsidian.
Its surface slick with an oily sheen, crawling with faint, unholy veins. Each pulse from it was slow, deliberate—like something breathing. Something alive.
Bellatrix stared at it, her lips parting. “That’s… the necklace…”
Her voice trembled. She didn’t finish the thought. She didn’t need to.
Because I knew.
If the pendant changed like this, it could only mean one thing.
He wasn’t just in danger.
He’d already been taken.
Bellatrix’s grip on my arm tightened, panic edging her voice. “Adonis… what happened to him? What happened to my son?”
I didn’t want to answer.
But the truth clawed its way out of me, burning my throat like fire.
I’d felt that wrongness before—in battlefields steeped in blood, in forests where nothing living grew.
“Demon.”
The word dropped into the space between us like a stone into still water—rippling out, tainting the air.
The map beside us, once glowing with gentle light, now lay dark and scorched. The air grew heavy, suffocating. Shadows stretched unnaturally across the walls, coiling like living things.
Bellatrix’s froze, her knuckles white around my arm.
Somewhere, far beyond our reach, her son was gone.
In his place… something else now breathed.
The room fell into silence once more.
And my heart wouldn’t stop pounding.
---
*
He cried my name before the dark, Then vanished past the spell’s last mark. I searched in stars, in rune, in prayer. But never found his shadow there.
The one I leaned on, fierce and kind, Had held her love a step behind. Now lips that cast the sharpest spells , Spoke softer truths the silence tells.
My son still breathes, or something does. I feel it in the way time was. The stone that once held sky and sea , Now burns with something not of me.
If I call his name again… Will I still know my child then?
*