Chapter 149

Chapter 149: Chapter 149

The abandoned east wing of the palace had become Finn Harlan’s private domain.

It was a place no one visited—too old, too drafty, too far from the main corridors. The perfect place for a schemer to conduct his business without fear of interruption. The torches had long since burned out, and the only light came from the pale moon filtering through the cracked windows. The shadows were deep, and Finn moved through them like a creature born of darkness.

He stood at the window, looking out at the palace city below. The festival lights had been extinguished weeks ago, but the city still glowed faintly—a thousand tiny fires burning in the darkness. Somewhere down there, his father rotted in a prison cell. Somewhere down there, Elias was probably drinking himself into a stupor, convinced that his plans were still on track. And somewhere down there, Soren Thornridge and Corvin Eldritch were hunting for answers they would never find.

Let them hunt, Finn thought. They’ll never catch me. I’m too careful. Too clean.

The door creaked open behind him.

Elias Nightveil slipped into the room, his dark eyes scanning the shadows. He was tense—Finn could see it in the set of his shoulders, the way his hand hovered near his sword. The encounter with Soren in the garden had rattled him. The seer’s curse on their father had rattled him even more.

"You’re late," Finn said, not turning around.

"Father is getting impatient. The trial is approaching faster than expected. He wants to know what we’re doing to get him out."

"Get him out?" Finn laughed softly. "There’s no getting him out. He’s finished. The evidence against him is overwhelming."

Elias’s jaw tightened. "Then we need to create new evidence. Discredit the witnesses. Bribe the judges. Something."

"The judges can’t be bribed. The witnesses are already dead or in protective custody. And the evidence—" Finn shook his head. "The evidence is too strong. The forged letter, the poison, the testimonies. Father sealed his own fate when he let the seer curse him in front of the entire realm."

"Then what do we do?"

"We let him fall." Finn turned to face his brother. "We distance ourselves. We play the role of the grieving children, horrified by their father’s crimes. We cooperate with the investigation. We provide just enough information to seem helpful without revealing our own involvement."

"You want me to betray our father?"

"I want us to survive. Father made mistakes. He was sloppy. He trusted the wrong people." Finn’s voice was cold. "But that doesn’t mean his dream has to die. The Astrlyn throne is still within reach. We just have to be smarter than he was."

Elias stared at him. There was something in Finn’s eyes—something cold and calculating—that made him uneasy. But he pushed the feeling aside. Finn was his brother. His ally. The one person who had always been on his side.

"What do you need me to do?"

Finn smiled. "For now? Nothing. Go back to the palace. Keep an eye on Soren. Report everything he does. And stay out of trouble."

"And Selene?"

"She’s handling the prince. Keeping him distracted." Finn’s smile widened. "He thinks he’s manipulating her, but it’s the other way around. She feeds him just enough information to keep him interested while hiding the truth. It’s almost beautiful to watch."

"And the others? Corvin? Ragnar? The Eldritch heir?"

"They’re investigating. But they won’t find anything. I’ve been too careful." Finn turned back to the window. "Let them search. Let them chase shadows. By the time they realize the truth, it will be too late."

Elias nodded slowly. "And Nyra? The Moonblood heir?"

"She’s dead. Faded into butterflies. Whatever the seer claims, she’s not coming back." Finn’s voice hardened. "Which is exactly what we wanted. Now go. We’ve talked long enough."

Elias slipped out of the room, closing the door behind him. Finn stood alone in the darkness, staring at the city below.

Soon, he thought. Soon, everything will fall into place.

Soren sat across from Selene at the small table in his suite, picking at his food without appetite. The dinner had been her idea—a "quiet evening together," she had called it. But Soren knew what it really was: an opportunity for her to reinforce her control over him.

Let her try, he thought. Every conversation is an opportunity to learn something.

"You seem distracted," Selene said, her voice soft with concern. "Is something troubling you?"

"Just tired. The investigation has been draining."

"Have they found anything new?"

Soren noted the flicker of interest in her eyes—the way she leaned forward slightly, her fork pausing mid-air. She was fishing for information.

"Nothing substantial," he said carefully. "The trail on Draven went cold after his death. We’re still looking for Killian, but he’s vanished."

"Killian Drak." Selene’s expression soured. "I never trusted him. There was always something off about him."

"He was working with someone. Draven was just the trigger man."

"The trigger man?"

"The one who fired the arrow. Or so we believe." Soren watched her face. "But Draven claimed he was innocent—that someone else shot the arrow. He was about to tell us who when he was silenced."

"Silenced?"

"Poison. Someone got to him before we could." He paused. "Whoever killed him knew we were closing in. They moved fast."

Selene’s hand tightened around her wine glass. "Do you have any suspects?"

"Several. But no proof." Soren set down his fork. "What about you? You were at the festival. Did you see anything unusual?"

Selene’s composure flickered—just for a moment. Then she smoothed it back into place. "I was with you most of the night. I didn’t notice anything unusual until the arrow... until it happened."

"The arrow that killed Nyra."

"Yes." Her voice was barely a whisper. "I didn’t know her well. But I know she meant something to you. Before."

Soren studied her face. She was good—he had to admit that. The slight tremor in her voice, the way her eyes glistened with what looked like genuine emotion. But he saw through it now. He saw the calculation behind every gesture, the performance behind every word. ℯℯ𝑙.

"She did," he said quietly. "She meant a great deal to me. And I won’t rest until the person who killed her is brought to justice."

Selene reached across the table and took his hand. "We’ll find them together. Whatever it takes."

Soren forced a smile. "Whatever it takes."

Corvin’s investigation had led him to the archives.

He spent hours in the dusty halls of the palace library, poring over documents and records. He was looking for something specific—a connection between Killian and the other conspirators, a paper trail that would expose the true mastermind. But the records were incomplete. Too many pages had been removed. Too many names had been redacted.

Someone’s been here before me, he thought. Someone’s been covering their tracks.

Lucian found him there late in the evening, surrounded by stacks of parchment.

"You look terrible," Lucian said, settling onto a nearby chair. "Have you slept at all?"

"Sleep is a luxury I can’t afford."

"Corvin..."

"I’m fine." Corvin set down the document he’d been reading. "What did you find?"

Lucian’s expression sobered. "I’ve been watching Selene’s friends. Celeste and Mira. They’re loyal to her—too loyal. They’ve been running errands, passing messages, meeting with people they shouldn’t be meeting with."

"What kind of people?"

"Low-level operatives. Servants. Guards. People who might be on Varek’s payroll." Lucian paused. "They’re also watching us. The academy students who’ve been helping the investigation. They know we’re getting close."

"Then we need to move faster." Corvin stood. "We need to find Killian before he’s silenced like Draven."

"And if he’s already dead?"

"Then we find out who killed him. And we follow that trail." Corvin gathered his notes. "I need you to keep watching Selene’s friends. Let me know the moment they make a move."

"And you?"

"I’m going to talk to Maureen. She’s been spying on the Silvermoon girls. If anyone knows something, it’s her."

In the Moon Court, Nyra had found a library.

It was vast—larger than any library in the mortal realm with shelves that stretched toward infinity and books that glowed with their own inner light. The souls of Moonblood scholars moved through the aisles, their silver hair flowing behind them like rivers of starlight. They bowed to Nyra as she passed, but she barely noticed them. Her mind was fixed on one thing: finding a way home.

There has to be something here, she thought. Some record of a Moonblood heir returning to the mortal realm. Some loophole in the divine laws.

If there is, it will be well hidden, Luna said. The goddess doesn’t want us to find it.

Then we search harder.

She had been in the library for what felt like hours though time moved strangely in the Moon Court when she found it.

It was an ancient text, bound in leather that had been softened by centuries of use. The title was written in a script that predated the Seven Packs, but Nyra could read it—the knowledge seemed to come to her instinctively, as if the words were speaking directly to her mind.

On the Return of Ascended Souls, the title read.

Her heart pounding, Nyra opened the book.

The text described a ritual—a dangerous, forbidden ritual that allowed an ascended soul to return to the mortal realm. But it required sacrifice. A great sacrifice. The soul of another, willingly given.

Nyra’s hands trembled as she read. This was it. This was the way home.

But the cost...

She closed the book and pressed it to her chest, her mind racing. She couldn’t ask anyone to make that sacrifice. She couldn’t.

But what if the sacrifice isn’t a person? Luna asked quietly. What if it’s something else? Something we can give freely?

Nyra looked down at the book. The pages seemed to glow with hidden meaning.

I need to read more, she thought. I need to understand.

She opened the book again and began to read. The ritual was complex, requiring components she didn’t have and knowledge she didn’t possess. But it was a start. It was hope.

I’m coming back, she thought, her eyes blazing with determination. I’m coming back to you, Soren. Whatever it takes.