Page 391 of Evil Hearts

“Elena,” he whispered, his voice a soothing caress. “What brings you to this sanctuary of knowledge?”

She held up the ancient tome, her fingers trembling slightly. “I found something, Aldric.”

Aldric’s eyes widened, a flicker of pain crossing his chiseled features. He approached Elena, his presence both comforting and electrifying. “Show me,” he urged, his voice tinged with a mixture of hope and trepidation.

Together, they pored over the faded pages, their heads bent close as they deciphered the cryptic passages. Elena’s heart raced as she pointed to an illustration of a beautiful sorceress, her raven hair cascading down her back.

“Cassandra Nightshade,” Elena breathed. “She was the one who cursed you, wasn’t she?”

Aldric nodded, his jaw clenched. “Aye. This is a language I haven’t seen in forever, but it is her handwriting, I still remember it.”

Elena’s fingers traced the drawing of Cassandra, a shiver running down her spine. “And the curse? What does it say about breaking it?”

Aldric’s eyes met hers, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths. “It speaks of a bond, a connection that transcends time and stone. But the path is fraught with danger, Elena. The cult that worships Cassandra will stop at nothing to prevent the curse from being broken.”

Elena’s heart thundered in her chest as she grasped Aldric’s hand, her fingers intertwining with his. “I’m not afraid, Aldric. I’m a freaking art teacher, but I’m not afraid because there’s no sense in it.”

Aldric’s gaze lingered on their entwined hands, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. He withdrew his hand, reaching into his coat pocket to retrieve a small, weathered book. As he opened it, the pages moved as if by magic, settling on an image that stole Elena’s breath.

“Is that...” she whispered, her finger hovering over the delicate illustration of a man and woman, their faces achingly familiar.

“Us,” Aldric confirmed, his voice low and tinged with melancholy. “In another life, another time. I don’t remember who you were to me then, Elena, but it’s clear our paths have crossed before.”

Elena’s heart ached at the longing in his tone, the weight of centuries lost to the curse. She yearned to comfort him, to ease the burden he carried, but the words caught in her throat.

Abruptly, Aldric snapped the book shut, his features hardening. “Come. There’s something I need to show you.”

He led her through the winding corridors, their footsteps echoing in the silence. They climbed the narrow staircase to the cathedral rooftop, emerging into the cool night air. The city stretched out before them, a tapestry of lights and shadows.

Elena shivered, the breeze whispering across her skin like a ghostly caress. She stepped closer to Aldric, drawn to his solid presence, the unspoken connection between them palpable in the charged air.

“What is this place to you?” she asked softly, her gaze tracing the strong lines of his profile.

Aldric’s eyes remained fixed on the horizon, his voice low and haunted. “It’s a reminder of my failure, of the curse that binds me. But it’s also a symbol of hope, of the possibility of redemption.”

He turned to face her then, his emerald eyes intense and searching. In that moment, Elena saw the man beneath the stone, the soul that yearned for freedom and love.

The air between them crackled with tension, unspoken emotions swirling like the winds that buffeted the cathedral spires. Elena’s heart raced, her breath caught in her throat as Aldric’s gaze dipped to her lips, a silent question in his eyes.

But before they could close the distance, a sudden chill swept over the rooftop, a darkness that had nothing to do with the night.

Elena shivered, an ominous feeling creeping up her spine.

“Aldric,” she whispered, her voice laced with trepidation. “Something’s wrong.”

His hand tightened around hers, his body tensing and she watched as he scanned the shadows. “I feel it too,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble. “A presence watching us.”

Elena’s heart hammered against her ribs, fear and adrenaline coursing through her veins. She pressed closer to Aldric, seeking comfort in his strength, in the solid warmth of his body.

“The cult?” she breathed, her eyes wide and searching.

Aldric’s jaw clenched, a muscle ticking beneath the carved planes of his face. “Perhaps.”

A gust of wind swept across the rooftop, carrying with it the scent of decay and despair. Elena shuddered, her skin prickling with goosebumps. In the distance, a lone raven cawed, its mournful cry echoing through the night.

“We should go,” Aldric said, his voice urgent and strained. “It’s not safe here, back inside.”

But even as he spoke, Elena could feel the darkness closing in, the shadows reaching out with icy fingers to ensnare them. She clung to Aldric, her anchor in the tempest, as the world seemed to tilt and shift around them.

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