Elara stared at the glowing white light inside the altar. It looked almost peaceful. Just steady, like a quiet breath. Her spiral mark on her palm pulsed along with it, almost like the light knew she was there. She stepped closer. The light didn't rise. It stretched like fog, it moved down to the floor, crawling gently, leaving a pale glowing line on the ground. It moved to the back wall of the chamber. And something strange happened. The wall split. It cracked open in a clean, narrow line. Stone slid to the sides slowly, like the room was opening its mouth. Behind the wall was a secret path, dark and hidden- but glowing softly with the same white light. Elara's chest tightened. The spiral hadn't made this. This wasn't part of the red-marked maze. This was something else. Something older. Something meant just for her.
"Why me?" she thought.
"Why does it keep letting me through?" She reached out and touched the edge of the stone. It was warm, but not burning. Then she heard it. Soft. So soft she almost missed it.
"Elara…" Her breath caught. That voice-it didn't sound like the book, or the spiral, or the whispers she'd been hearing since this started. It sounded real. Like a person. Like someone she knew.
"Elara…" the voice came again. Softer this time. Weaker. But full of emotion.
"Maris?" she said, her voice shaking. She looked around, but saw no one. Only the altar. Then, something moved on the surface of the stone. The light inside it shifted. For just a second, her own reflection twisted. Her eyes changed. They weren't hers anymore. They were Maris's eyes. Green. Tired. But filled with something sharp, not anger, not fear. Something harder to name.
"You're close," the voice said. Elara felt her heart jump.
"Where are you?" she whispered. The reflection flickered again, Elara's face mixed with Maris's. And then the whisper spoke again.
"It chose you. The book." Elara's mouth opened, but no words came. "The Grimoire," the voice said slowly, "It remembers you the way a mother remembers her child." Elara shook her head. "No. That's not… I'm not…" But she couldn't finish. Because deep down, something about the words felt true.
"You were part of it before the spell," the voice continued.
"Before the spiral. Before you were even born." Elara felt dizzy.
"Part of what?" she asked.
"What does that even mean?" But the voice was fading. The reflection disappeared. The altar dimmed. And Elara was alone again. She stood there, breathing hard.
"The book remembers me," she whispered. The words made her feel sick and cold. But also strange… like part of her wasn't scared. Like part of her already knew. She looked back at the wall that had opened- at the glowing white path ahead. Not red. Not bloody. Pure. But quiet. And full of secrets. She looked at her spiral mark again. It glowed with a soft white light now, not the usual red. She closed her eyes.
"You think I belong to you," she whispered to the book.
"You think I'm yours. But you don't own me." Her hand curled into a fist. She opened her eyes. And stepped through the hidden doorway. The stone slid closed behind her without a sound.