Chapter 5: The pull.

★ Elara ★

The manor changed when important guests were coming.

It always did.

The air grew tighter. Sharper. Like the walls were not breathing but holding it.

I felt it before anyone could tell me.

Before my name was called.

Before the door locks would be inspected or checked once instead of twice.

I was on my knees in the east corridor, cleaning the marble floors already cleaned enough to show my face back at me.

My fingers ached.

The skin around my nails were torn and raw, but I kept scrubbing and cleaning, because stopping meant being noticed—and being noticed was never safe for me.

“Elara.”

My body paused before my mind did.

I flinched.

And, turned slowly.

There stood Lyra at the end of the hall, dressed not in silk tonight but in fitted black leather, her hair styled neatly, her eyes always sharp with purpose. Behind her, stood two guards, pretending not to see.

“You are needed,” she said.

Not asked.

I lowered my head. “Yes.”

She looked me over like one inspects something borrowed and already resented.

“The guests arrive tonight. You’ll be busy until then.”

I didn’t answer. I never did unless ordered.

“Baths need to be prepared,” she continued. “Guest chambers aired. Linen changed. And you—” her gaze dropped deliberately to my wrists, my neck, my bare feet “—will stay out of sight.”

My throat tightened.

“Yes.

Then she stepped closer, her voice lowered. “If I hear that you were seen, even once… I’ll make sure Mother skips giving your mother food.”

The words landed exactly where she intended.

I swallowed hard. “I understand.”

Pleased, she turned and left.

Only when her steps faded away did I allow myself to breathe again.

The servants’ baths were made with stone and surface– levelled, fed by indifferent water that smelled slightly of herbs meant to cover up exhaustion rather than cure it. I took off my clothes quietly, folding them with care, as if the neatness could protect me.

The water took away nothing.

It never had.

As I washed, my thoughts shifted—turncoat, unwanted—to the strange feelings that had been haunting me for days now. That pull. That heat beneath my ribs. Like someone, somewhere, had pulled a thread tied around my heart and forgot to let go.

It scares me.

Humans were not supposed to feel things like that.

I placed my palm against my chest, breathing slowly.

It’s nothing to worry about right now, I told myself.

Just nerves.

But the water bubbled silently around me, though nothing had moved.

I froze.

The pressure returned—stronger this time.

Awareness.

As if eyes had looked at my direction from far away.

I wrapped my arms around my body, suddenly too exposed. Of my skin. Of the way my breath hitched for no reason at all.

“No,” I said silently.

Whatever this is, I refused it.

I always had.

As the sun came down the manor, I quietly made my way from the servants’ wing toward my locked door corridor.

Toward my mother.

The guards were distracted tonight. Because of Too many preparations. And perhaps too much wine. I moved as I’d learned to—quiet, careful, invisible.

When I arrived at the dungeon door, my heart raced.

“Mother,” I called silently through the bars.

A figure moved in the darkness.

“Elara?” Her voice was faint—but it was unmistakable hers.

I dropped to my knees.

“I’m right here,” I said, resting my forehead on the cold iron. “I won’t stay long.”

She reached out, her fingers grazing mine. Too thin. Too cold.

“You must be careful,” she murmured.

“The Moon has been restless.”

My breath caught. “You feel it too?”

She smiled faintly. “I feel you.”

Tears clouded my eyes.

“I’m scared,” I said truly.

“I know,” she said gently. “But whatever comes… do not let them tell you who you are.”

Footsteps echoed nearby.

I pulled back, heart racing.

“I’ll come again,” I promised.

“Child,” she whispered urgently. “If three shadows stand under one Moon—”

A door slammed somewhere above.

I fled before she could finish.

As night time drew nearer, I sat alone in my small room, I took the box from where I placed it, under the floorboard

.

My father’s last secret.

It felt warm.

Warmer than it had been before.

I looked at it, unease crawling through me.

Outside, far away beyond the manor walls, the wind changed course.

South.

Toward something approaching.

And for the first time in ten years…

I felt certain.

Whatever was coming for Nightfang Pack—

It was coming for me.