The quiet of Elladora’s private study contrasted sharply with the chaos that had swirled through the council chamber only hours before. A fire crackled in the stone hearth, casting flickering shadows that danced along the rows of bookshelves, each one crammed with volumes whose spines bore the faded gold of arcane titles.
Ellie sat stiffly in a high-backed chair, trying to ignore the way the embroidered cushion pressed uncomfortably into her back. Across from her, Elladora reclined in a plush armchair with a catlike grace, her cloak draped casually over one armrest. She held a cup of dark tea, its steam curling upward in lazy spirals, her gaze fixed on Ellie with a curiosity that felt like a weight pressing against her thoughts.
“So, Ellie—or should I call you Elnora?” Elladora’s voice cut through the quiet, her tone light, as if they were discussing the weather rather than a truth Ellie had buried deep. Her smile was the same—pleasant, almost gentle—but there was a gleam in her eyes that made Ellie’s skin prickle. “You really must choose one. It gets so confusing otherwise.”
Ellie flinched, a chill running through her despite the warmth of the room. Her hands curled into fists in her lap, her knuckles whitening. “How do you know that name?”
“Oh, I have my ways, Elnora. You of all people should know that nothing stays hidden forever.” She shrugged, as if dismissing the mystery. “But the real question is, why go through all the trouble to hide it?”
Ellie stiffened, feeling the knot of anxiety tighten in her chest. Her mind raced, sorting through the lies she had built around herself like a fortress. “It’s safer this way, Elnora Valquinn is... complicated.”
“Complicated, indeed,” Elladora mused, her eyes narrowing with a knowing glint. “Especially with a sister like Eleanor, hounding after you like a bloodhound on the scent. I ran into her myself—charming girl, though a bit too intense for my tastes.”
Ellie’s heart lurched at the mention of her sister, and a dozen questions sprang to her lips—Where did you see her? How is she? Is she all right?—but she swallowed them back, forcing herself to keep her expression neutral. She knew better than to give Elladora the satisfaction of seeing her panic.
“You haven’t told anyone, have you?” Ellie asked, the words edged with a hint of desperation she couldn’t quite hide. “About me. About... her.”
Elladora’s laughter was a low, melodic sound that filled the room, warm yet sharp as the edge of a blade. “Oh, of course not, my dear,” she replied, waving a hand as if brushing away the very idea. “What fun would that be? No, no, I much prefer to see how this little drama plays out on its own. Besides, your story has become quite entertaining—and I have no intention of spoiling it prematurely.”
Ellie swallowed hard, a cold dread settling in the pit of her stomach. She had thought she understood Elladora—had thought that beneath the archmage’s aloofness there lay some core of decency, some sense of responsibility. But now, faced with this playful, almost mocking indifference, she realized just how much she had misjudged.
“What do you want from me?” she asked, unable to keep the bitterness from seeping into her voice. “You could have exposed me the moment you returned. Why haven’t you?”
Elladora’s smile softened, and for a moment, there was something almost genuine in the curve of her lips, a shadow of weariness that flickered across her features. She leaned back in her chair, folding her hands in her lap, her gaze turning thoughtful as she considered her answer.
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“I stayed away because I wanted a break, Ellie,” she said, her voice quiet, as if sharing a confidence she rarely granted. “Do you have any idea how tiresome it is to be the Archmage of Lorthraine? The endless crises, the politicking, the responsibility of keeping this place from crumbling into a ruinous heap of egos and half-baked spells? Eventually, I just... got bored of it all.”
Ellie stared at her, uncomprehending. “You faked your disappearance because you were bored?”
“Not just bored, no,” Elladora corrected, her smile turning wry. “Achron’s little conspiracy was a good excuse to slip away, to watch things unfold from the shadows while I indulged in a few years of peace and quiet. I wandered the coasts, visited some old haunts, even spent a season or two living among the hillfolk. Quite refreshing, really. But then...”
She sighed, a gleam of mischief lighting her eyes. “Well, it’s like any good story, isn’t it? There comes a point where the plot thickens, and you just have to see how it ends.”
Ellie shook her head, struggling to process the nonchalance with which Elladora spoke of abandoning her post. “So you left us all to fend for ourselves—just because you wanted a vacation?”
Elladora arched a brow, tilting her head as if Ellie had asked a particularly foolish question. “Why, yes. And look at the result! You sealed away the devil king, and earned yourself a place in the annals of magical history.” Her lips curled into a smirk. “Quite the dramatic arc, wouldn’t you say?”
“But I didn’t do those things,” Ellie snapped, the words bursting out of her before she could stop them. She could feel her pulse hammering in her temples, the frustration spilling over. “The relic did. Merdhyn’s power did. I just... I just held on and hoped I wouldn’t die.”
Elladora studied her for a long moment, her expression inscrutable, then chuckled softly. “Oh, I know, dear. Believe me, I know. It’s what makes the whole situation so delightfully absurd.”
She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. “But do you think they care about that? The mages, the council, even Master Kolvin? They need their legend, Ellie. They need a story that makes sense. And you... you’re a very convenient protagonist.”
Ellie’s mouth went dry, her thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and resentment. “So you’re just going to let them believe it? Let them think I’m some kind of... of savior?”
Elladora’s smile faded, and she sighed, a sound that seemed to carry the weight of years. “Why not?” she asked, her tone almost gentle. “Do you think it would make them happier to know that their victory hinged on luck and an artifact older than their ancestors? No, let them have their illusions, their stories. It’s kinder that way, really.”
Ellie clenched her fists, staring down at the embroidered rug beneath her feet, the intricate patterns blurring in her vision. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, a mixture of anger and something that felt uncomfortably close to shame. “And what am I supposed to do now?”
Elladora’s expression softened, and she reached out, resting a hand lightly on Ellie’s shoulder. Her touch was surprisingly warm, grounding, though her eyes still held that glint of amusement. “Live, dear Elnora. Or Ellie. Or whoever you decide to be tomorrow.”
She shrugged, a careless motion that seemed to encompass the entire world. “Enjoy the role you’ve been given, or rewrite it entirely. That’s the beauty of being a protagonist, you know. You get to choose how the story goes.”
Ellie met her gaze, searching for some trace of mockery, but found only a strange, detached sincerity. She swallowed, feeling the tension drain from her limbs, replaced by a dull, aching exhaustion. She didn’t know if she could trust Elladora—didn’t know if she even wanted to.
But for now, at least, the other woman seemed content to keep her secrets.
“And Eleanor? She... she’s still looking for me?”
Elladora’s smile turned enigmatic, her eyes glittering like the embers in the hearth. “Who knows? But whether she finds you or not... well, that’s a story for another day, isn’t it?”
Ellie shivered, a chill running through her despite the warmth of the fire. She had thought she had left her past behind when she became Ellie Liddell. But now, it seemed, the past had a way of catching up with her—no matter how far she ran.