Page 269 of Cursed Evermore
I'd love to have faith that we could replicate the success to find the ring, but I didn't want to get my hopes up. If it worked,it worked, and it would only work if the ring allowed it to. As in, if it felt safe enough to allow us to see where it was.
Now that I'd openly defied my uncle by choosing Elariya over a political marriage, the stakes had risen. I had to escalate my efforts to find the ring. War was brewing with the rebellion. The rebels grew stronger with their mysterious benefactor while our options dwindled. I was running out of time, but I had to be ready for whatever came next.
I reached my room. The moment I stepped inside and saw Elariya asleep in the armchair by the fireplace, the burdens on my shoulders loosened.
She was my peace in the storm. The only sense of calm that could reach me.
Every time I looked at her, I saw life. Not death or dying. I sawlifeand a future. A future I wanted with her.
I saw happiness in that future. Joy, love, compassion. All the things she’d spoken about on the night of the festival. She’d sold the idea to me, and I wanted it all.
I shrugged off my jacket and made my way over to her. She looked so comfortable curled up to the side with the blanket draped over her, I couldn't bring myself to wake her.
On the floor lay her journal, wide open. She must have dropped it. And like that night on the ship, it displayed the first two pages.
I would never purposely read her private thoughts, but like before, it was impossible to unsee the very same words taunting me.
She'd written:
"It all began one fateful night after I (you) met a Fae prince in the tavern at home. He tricked me with a cruel, damning kiss then took me captive.
Beware of the Fae prince and how he makes you feel.
It's a danger you can't afford."
That night, I was so focused on the way she'd described the kiss because I was dying to kiss her again.
The Ruskiel attacked hours later, and it was as if everything between Elariya and I changed in ways I could no longer control. Giving someone a piece of your soul will do that to you. But there was already more between us, and she was right—it all began that fateful night when we met at the tavern.
It felt like we'd lived several lifetimes since.
I picked up the journal and set it on the table, then stared at it for a moment longer.
Elariya had recorded her memories in this journal. Memories of me, of Galaythia, and everything that had happened between us. Unlike her other journals in Stormfell, this one captured the details of this reset.
I imagined she'd documented as much information as possible. She'd told me her grandmother would journal, too, back home, for added support.
An idea came to me. A rekindling of something I hadn't done in years.
If the spell failed and her memory reset, she'd lose all trace of us, and I'd become a stranger to her again.
I wanted her to have something. Something from me. My memories of us—the way she looked when we first met, how she felt in my arms, what it meant for her to choose to stay in my darkness.
I wanted her to have my own record of what we'd shared. What she meant to me. What we'd built together in these stolen weeks.
I used to journal in my younger days. My mother encouraged me because, of all her children, I was most like her. "Anything you love needs to be written down. It is your legacy," she'd said.
Those words echoed through my mind again as I glanced at my beautiful girl and knew I had to try.
I moved quietly to my desk and conjured one of my mother's notebooks. I pulled out my quill, some ink, then started writing.
My dearest Elariya, if you're reading this, then I've lost you, but I hope with these words, your heart will remember me.
Chapter 54
Wolfe
“Of Promises and Deceit.”
