Page 34 of His Darkest Devotion

I release the breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Lumeria’s shoulders relax a fraction, though unease still shadows her eyes. “We believe you, Elira,” she says. “But you must be forthright with us about any further… entanglements.”

I clamp my lips together, uncertain how to articulate the messy swirl of emotions connected to Vaelin. “There’s nothing else,” I manage. Part of me feels guilty for concealing the physical aspect of our encounter, but I can’t bear their condemnation.

Quelina nods. “We’ll keep an eye on you regardless. Now, about the Red Purnas. Do you have a sense of their next move?”

I swallow hard, forcing my thoughts away from Vaelin. “They might target outlying covens or human settlements rumored to harbor purnas. I heard talk of them sowing chaos to draw me out. They think I’d rush to defend anyone in danger. And they’re right—I can’t stand by if they slaughter innocents.”

Soft murmurs run through the elders. The Matriarch’s gaze flicks between them. “We’ll strengthen our wards and send envoys to warn other covens. Meanwhile, Elira, you should rest.” She lifts a hand to forestall my protest. “You’re exhausted. Your shoulder is obviously injured, and your magic must be nearly spent.”

I want to argue, but a wave of weariness slams me. She’s right; I can barely remain upright. “Fine,” I concede. “But only for a brief spell. Then I’ll help with defenses.”

The Matriarch steps closer, placing a gentle palm on my bruised shoulder. A tender warmth seeps from her hand, easing some tension. “We’re glad you’re back, child. We stand stronger together.”

A flicker of guilt courses through me for the secrecy and conflict that drove me away. “I understand,” I murmur. Then I stagger, dizziness making the room tilt. Quelina rushes forward to steady me.

“Rest,” Yvara repeats firmly. “We’ll wake you if trouble arises.”

With no further argument left in me, I let them guide me from the Matriarch’s chamber. My legs feel like water, my mind spinning with unanswered questions. Outside, the corridor is quieter than before—most purnas likely behind locked doors or in smaller gatherings, bracing for the possibility of an attack.

As I shuffle toward my old quarters, I sense eyes on me. Glancing back, I spot Olyssia, my closest friend, standing at the end of the corridor. She doesn’t rush forward. Instead, she hesitates, studying me with a guarded expression. My chest tightens. If even Olyssia is wary, how bad have the rumors grown?

Still, I approach her slowly. “Olyssia… hey.” My voice cracks with a mixture of relief and trepidation.

She tilts her head, fiery curls framing her face. “You’re alive. We weren’t sure. Word spread that you’d been traveling with a Dark Elf.” Her tone carries a trace of hurt. “I didn’t know what to believe.”

My heart clenches. “It’s complicated,” I admit. “He’s tried to capture me, yes, but… we also ended up fighting side by side. It’s not some grand alliance. I swear.”

Her expression softens, though apprehension remains in her eyes. “I never doubted your heart, Elira. Just worried he might’ve twisted your mind somehow.”

I recall Vaelin’s pained gaze, the brush of his lips. My face warms involuntarily. “He didn’t twist me,” I say quietly. “It’s all a mess, but I haven’t forgotten who I am.”

Olyssia releases a breath, then steps closer to wrap me in a tentative hug. I collapse against her, relieved by the familiar warmth of her embrace. She smells of lavender and old parchment, a comforting reminder of better times. “I missed you,” she murmurs, voice muffled by my hair.

I clear my throat. “I missed you too. I just… had to protect everyone by staying away.” Pulling back, I meet her gaze. “But the Red Purnas are out of control. We have to be ready.”

She nods, eyes flicking around for eavesdroppers. “Tensions run high. The Matriarch’s been dealing with internal disputes daily. Everyone’s on edge, especially after hearing that some purnas vanished, presumably taken by the Red Purnas or… worse.”

A tremor runs through me. “We need a plan. Strengthening wards might not be enough if they come in force.”

Olyssia grips my arm. “We’ll figure it out. Let me walk you to your room; you look like you can barely stand.”

I don’t argue. Letting her guide me, I shuffle down the corridor until we reach the door to my old quarters—an alcove carved into the rock. I push the curtain aside, stepping into the small space. A worn rug covers the smooth stone floor, and a simple bed sits against the wall. I never realized how much I missed this place until now.

Olyssia sets a hand on my shoulder. “Rest. I’ll bring you a hot drink and maybe some stew. You need strength.”

My knees nearly buckle at the promise of warm food. “Thank you,” I whisper, voice cracking with gratitude. She offers a faint smile before slipping out, leaving me alone in the soft glow of a single arcane orb.

Collapsing onto the bed, I let out a shaky breath. My body throbs in protest—my shoulder especially. Rolling up my sleeve, I see purplish bruises spreading across the skin. The memory of Vaelin’s blade pressing me to the ground flashes through my head, followed by his lips meeting mine in an unexpected rush. My heart lurches. Even in the relative safety of my room, I can’t escape the storm of confusion he’s sown in me.

I try to still my mind, focusing on the hush of the coven’s ancient magic. The walls here practically hum with protective wards carved over generations. Once, I found solace in that comforting hum. Now, I can’t quiet the swirl of guilt, longing, and dread over the revelations swirling outside these halls.The gargoyles…

My eyes drift shut despite the worries. I slip into a shallow doze, only half-aware of my breathing. Time passes in a blur until a soft footstep rouses me. My eyes flutter open, and I find Olyssia standing there with a steaming bowl and a clay cup. The savory aroma makes my mouth water. She hands me the meal without a word, then helps me sit up, adjusting a pillow behind my back. I murmur thanks and dive into the stew, each spoonful fueling my battered body.

When the bowl is half-finished, Olyssia sinks onto the edge of the bed, studying me with concern. “Elira,” she begins softly, “while you were gone, the Matriarch discovered more evidence the gargoyles are stirring. Minor quakes, strange howls near old battle sites. It’s no coincidence.”

My spoon hovers, a cold fear trickling through me. “So it’s true. They’re really waking.” My heart pounds. The prophecy I never asked for lingers over me like a curse.Seal or free them.The Red Purnas thirst for that power, the Overlord’s forces likewise. Everyone wants to harness or destroy me for it.

Olyssia sets a hand on my arm. “We don’t know how soon or how many. But the signs are clear, and I’m afraid some… have escaped our detection. If all of them break free, they’ll be unstoppable. The coven is terrified.”

---