Ashenfall's dawn was a pale, uncertain thing-mist curling through the alleys, the city's sharp spires lost in a shroud of gray. Elara had not slept. She sat on the Sanctuary's rooftop garden, knees drawn to her chest, watching the world below stir to life. The memory of Silas's lifeless face haunted her, and every time she closed her eyes, she saw the blood pact sigil burning blue in the dark.
She heard footsteps behind her. Lucien's presence was unmistakable-a subtle chill in the air, the faint scent of rain and old roses. He sat beside her, silent for a moment.
"You should rest," he said quietly.
Elara shook her head. "I can't. Not while Dorian is out there. Not after what happened to Silas."
Lucien's jaw tightened, but he didn't argue. "We'll find answers. Together."
She wanted to believe him. But trust was a fragile thing, especially between a witch and a vampire. Before she could reply, the rooftop shadows shifted. A figure emerged, graceful and otherworldly, with eyes like emerald glass and hair the color of moonlight.
"Kaelen," Elara breathed, rising to her feet.
The fae bowed with a flourish, a mischievous smile playing at their lips. "You two look positively haunted. I suppose that's fitting, given last night's tragedy."
Lucien stood, wary. "If you're here to play games, Kaelen, now isn't the time."
Kaelen's smile faded. "No games today. I bring a warning-and perhaps a clue."
Elara's heart thudded. "What do you know?"
Kaelen circled the rooftop, trailing slender fingers through the dew-soaked leaves. "The ley lines are not merely restless. Something is poisoning them. Old magic, older than your coven's oldest spells. Dorian is meddling in things best left buried."
Elara exchanged a glance with Lucien. "The blood pact?"
Kaelen nodded. "And more. There are whispers in the fae courts-rumors of a bargain struck beneath the city, in the catacombs where the oldest magics sleep. If Dorian awakens what lies there, the truce will be the least of your worries."
A chill ran down Elara's spine. "What do we do?"
Kaelen's gaze softened. "You must find the source of the corruption. Cleanse the ley lines before they fracture completely. And beware-Dorian is not alone. There are others who crave chaos."
Lucien stepped forward. "Can you help us?"
Kaelen's eyes sparkled with secrets. "I can point the way. But the path is yours to walk." They pressed a small, silver token into Elara's hand-a coin etched with unfamiliar runes. "This will open the way to the catacombs. But be warned: not all shadows in Ashenfall are cast by the night."
With that, Kaelen vanished, leaving only the scent of wildflowers and the echo of their words.
Elara turned the coin over in her palm, determination hardening in her chest. "We have to go. Tonight."
Lucien nodded. "I'll gather what I can from my clan. Meet me at the old cathedral after sundown."
As he disappeared into the morning mist, Elara felt the weight of the coming night settle on her shoulders. The path ahead was dark and uncertain, but she would not turn away. Not now.
Below, Ashenfall's bells tolled the hour. The city was waking, and with it, the shadows grew restless.