✧ Chapter Thirty-One✧
How It Came to That?
fromHave You Someone to Protect?
by ©Amer
The days when Lhady and Caelum were off adventuring through the tunnel, Elias remained in the bookshop. Whether he was worried or simply confident about their fate was hard to say—he didn't express much either way.
Elbow-deep in scrolls he likely shouldn't have unrolled, Elias blinked at a familiar line of ink, sighed, and cast a glance at the broken clock hanging crookedly on the wall—still frozen at 9:29, stubborn as ever.
"If it's another raccoon with a proclamation, I'm charging admission," he muttered, pushing back silver strands from his face as he rose and dusted off his long coat.
He opened the door.
For a long beat, no one spoke.
Because it was Elias who opened it.
Not Lhady.
Not Caelum.
Just a stranger standing in the threshold of what had once been a sanctuary.
Three familiar faces stared back at him—Sian's sharp gaze narrowing slightly, Alen blinking in quiet confusion, and Mira taking a cautious half-step forward, eyes darting past him.
"…Who are you?" Sian asked, her tone low but calm.
"This is still the bookshop, right?" Alen murmured, as if louder words might tear the delicate fabric of the moment.
Mira's voice was gentle, almost a whisper. "Where's Lhady?"
Elias leaned against the doorframe with practiced ease, silver hair catching the fading light like strands of moonlight. A polite smile played on his lips—elegant, unreadable.
"She's out," he said. "With her ever-watchful knight. Herbal errands, if I recall. I was left in charge."
"In charge of this house?" Sian raised an eyebrow.
"Temporarily," Elias replied, brushing an invisible speck of dust from his sleeve. "A promotion of sorts. Unpaid, of course."
Alen glanced down the street. "And Caelum was… fine with that?"
Elias tilted his head, thinking. "One might say absence is its own endorsement."
"But who are you, really?" Mira asked, more curious than cautious now.
He bowed with quiet grace, the kind learned in libraries and noble courts alike. "Elias. A name once scribbled in Thorne Amer's records. He chose me—before his disappearance—to someday return to Lhady."
The silence that followed wasn't empty—it brimmed with shifting thoughts.
"Thorne?" Mira echoed, the name suddenly feeling heavier. "He chose you?"
Elias gave a small nod, the corners of his mouth curled just enough to unsettle without threatening. "Indeed. I arrived recently. You might say I was… appointed."
"To do what?" Sian's voice didn't sharpen—it steadied.
"To accompany. To observe. Perhaps even to protect," he said, voice dipping just enough to feel private.
Alen's eyebrows lifted. "Like a… fiancé?"
Elias gave a small, amused laugh. "Ah, you caught me. Yes, Lhady woke the very moment I arrived. A proper fairy tale: a gasp, a flutter, and the birds outside surely burst into applause."
They blinked.
Mira's expression wavered between horror and confusion. "You're joking… right?"
Elias didn't answer. Or rather, he let the silence stretch, then softened it with a smile. "After her miraculous awakening, she and Caelum departed for a brighter apothecary. More light, less mold. Entirely routine."
Sian stepped just a little closer. "And they left you here?"
"With a note," he replied. "Or perhaps they eloped. I do make an excellent alibi."
He stepped back and motioned to the room beyond like an innkeeper at twilight. "Come in. I've just pulled a tray from the oven. Rosemary, almond, and thyme."
The scent drifted out—warm, nostalgic, unexpectedly comforting.
Alen sniffed the air. "That smells like safety."
"We really shouldn't," Mira said, lingering on the edge.
"We absolutely shouldn't," Sian agreed—but followed anyway.
They stepped inside.
The house was not in disarray, but it had changed—subtly. Scrolls half-unrolled on the armchair. A single shoe abandoned near the door. Two cups perched on the window ledge, one nearly tipped. Nothing damaged, nothing wrong… just off.
The bookshop's scent clung to the space—aged parchment, cedar shelves, a trace of old ink. But beneath it, a thread of something else. Restlessness. Magic stirred.
"Was it always this… cluttered?" Mira asked.
"No," Sian replied under her breath. "Caelum files by starlight and severity. This? This feels like a very charming chaos."
Elias returned with a tray, three delicate plates balanced easily in one hand. "Please. Sit. I'll do my best not to eavesdrop while hovering near the kettle."
They sat.
They ate.
And unfortunately—the cookies were divine.
"You're not actually her fiancé, are you?" Mira asked midway through her second bite.
Elias poured tea into a ceramic cup, his movements deliberate. "Wouldn't that make a far more interesting story?"
Their glances met above the porcelain.
"I think we've wandered into something strange," Sian murmured.
"No," Mira said, a curious smile flickering across her face. "We've stepped into a side plot."
They didn't linger long after the tea was finished. The three friends gathered their coats and shared quiet goodbyes, offering half-smiles and uncertain glances.
Elias stood in the doorway again, waving as they retreated down the street.
The moment they turned the corner and disappeared, something hit him.
It wasn't sound.
It wasn't light.
It was pressure—deep, old magic humming in his chest, familiar and urgent.
He stilled.
His hands dropped to his sides. His pupils shifted. A wave of clarity moved through him like cold water over skin.
They were in the tunnel.
Not just anywhere.
The old sigil had been disturbed. Something had shifted around Lhady and Caelum.
He turned to head inside—then froze.
There was a sound behind him. Not footsteps. Hoofbeats.
But soft, purposeful.
A chestnut mare emerged from between the trees, riderless.
Tamsin.
Elias blinked. She came straight toward him, eyes sharp, hooves measured, posture alert—like a creature with a mission. She didn't slow until she was close enough to nudge him gently with her nose.
"Tamsin?" he breathed. His gaze narrowed. "Where's—"
But she turned her head toward the woods. Toward the south ridge.
Toward the tunnel.
Elias's expression sobered. "So… it's time."
The mare pawed once at the ground. Waiting.
He hesitated for only a second, then leapt up, landing smoothly on her back. No saddle. No hesitation.
Tamsin took off, her pace quick and sure, cutting a path through trees as if she remembered it by heart.
Elias leaned forward, gripping her mane tightly—not for fear, but to steady the growing pressure inside him. He could already feel it—them. The pulse of Caelum's energy. The flicker of Lhady's aura. Both fragile. The sigil burning.
The wind roared past him. Branches blurred. A hawk screamed overhead.
Then—
Snap.
A branch whipped across his face—thin, sharp, and unforgiving.
He hissed, jerking slightly to the side. A warm sting bloomed across his cheek, just below his eye. He reached up and felt the blood. Not deep, but angry—enough to mark him.
"Figures," he muttered, his voice caught between amusement and grit.
He didn't slow.
The trees gave way to rocky earth, the old ridge looming ahead. Tamsin didn't falter; she knew where to go. He followed her lead, blood still trickling faintly from his cheek as the shadows of the tunnel rose to greet him.
Whatever was waiting… he was already part of it.