The next morning, Elara woke with her fists clenched in the sheets.
She hadn't really slept, just drifted in and out of shallow, restless silence. Her body still shook from what she'd seen, from what she'd overheard. She kept hearing it in her head on a loop:
"Take her soon."
The shimmer inside her was still humming like a wire pulled too tight.
She couldn't pretend anymore. Whatever game she'd thought she was playing… it was bigger now. And far more dangerous.
She dressed quickly, black again. She didn't care if anyone noticed. She couldn't keep pretending to be the perfect daughter, the obedient girl. Not when someone in her home wanted her gone.
As she moved through the hallways, everything felt colder. Sharper. Like the walls were listening.
Even the servants smiled too quickly. Stepped aside too easily.
Had they always been this quiet?
Or had she simply never noticed before?
"Elara."
She flinched at the sound of her name and turned to find Aven jogging toward her, concern written all over his face.
"Where were you last night?" he asked. "I waited at the garden like you said you might come. But you didn't."
Elara hesitated. The truth itched at the edge of her tongue, but she couldn't tell him. Not yet.
"I couldn't sleep," she said. "Went walking."
Aven didn't believe her. She saw it in his eyes.
"El," he said softly, "something's wrong. I can feel it. You look like you've seen a ghost."
"I saw something worse," she said before she could stop herself.
He blinked. "What?"
She turned and walked away.
He followed.
Down the west wing corridor. Past the old portraits. Toward the library.
"Elara, talk to me," he said, grabbing her arm. "You're scaring me."
She stopped.
Then she turned to him and whispered, "I went into the catacombs."
His eyes widened. "You what?"
"There's something down there, Aven. A mirror, a vision, voices I couldn't see. And someone, someone else was down there too. Looking for me."
Aven paled.
"Did they see you?"
"I don't think so."
He stepped back, running a hand through his hair. "Gods, El… why would you even go down there?"
"Because someone's lying to me," she snapped. "To all of us. Our family's hiding something. Something about me. About the shimmer. I needed answers."
Aven went quiet for a long moment. Then, slowly, he said, "I'll go with you next time."
She looked up, startled. "What?"
"You shouldn't be alone down there."
Elara blinked. That was the thing about Aven, he never asked for explanations. He just showed up when it mattered.
A strange warmth spread through her chest.
"Thank you," she said, voice quieter.
They stepped into the library together, the scent of old parchment and lavender oil thick in the air. Elara moved toward the shelves in the back, where the oldest volumes were kept.
She remembered something from the vision. The woman in green. Her eyes. Her hands.
The way she looked like Elara.
She was sure it was family. Maybe an ancestor. Maybe someone else who had shimmered before.
She ran her fingers over the leather spines of the books, eyes scanning titles until one caught her breath.
"Bloodlines of the Outer Houses."
Elara pulled it down carefully.
The book was older than most, stitched by hand, its cover cracked and worn. Inside, ink had faded with time, but the names were still legible.
House Therin.
House Malen.
House Vire.
And then: House Aerlyn. Her family.
Elara flipped through the pages until she saw a drawing.
A woman. Dark hair. Sharp eyes. A green dress.
She gasped.
It was her.
Or, it should've been.
But the name written beneath was not Elara.
Lady Nira Aerlyn.
Born over two hundred years ago.
Labeled: "Marked. Shimmered. Exiled."
Her breath caught. There was more, scrawled faintly in a different hand beneath the official script:
"She walked through fire, but it did not burn her.
She saw through time and memory, and the world called her cursed."
Elara's hands trembled.
This wasn't new.
She wasn't the first.
And that meant… someone had tried to erase the shimmer from their history.
Aven leaned over her shoulder. "That's her, isn't it?"
She nodded.
"She looks like me," she whispered. "The same eyes. Same cheekbones."
"You think she was like you?"
"I don't think," Elara said. "I know."
She flipped more pages. There were brief accounts. Mentions of visions. Of a forbidden power passed through bloodlines. Each one quieter than the last. As if history itself had been silenced.
Aven frowned. "If she shimmered… why was she exiled?"
"Because power like this scares people," Elara said bitterly. "Even family."
Before she could say more, the door creaked.
They turned.
Kaelin stood in the doorway.
Elegant. Calm. Too calm.
"Oh," she said with a smile. "I didn't mean to interrupt."
Elara's heart raced. Her instinct screamed.
Kaelin stepped into the room, slow and graceful. "Researching family history?"
Elara snapped the book shut. "Just reading."
Kaelin's eyes flicked to Aven, then to the book, then back to Elara.
Something cold passed behind her smile.
"Well," she said lightly, "I came to find you. Lady Enira is asking for you. Tea in the sunroom."
Elara stood, gripping the book tight.
"I'll be there soon."
Kaelin held her gaze for one heartbeat too long.
Then, with a nod, she turned and left.
As soon as she was gone, Aven whispered, "She heard something."
"I know."
Elara tucked the book under her cloak.
"I'm not giving it back," she said.
Aven gave her a small, crooked smile. "Didn't think you would."
They left the library, and as they walked, Elara's mind raced.
"Do you think Lady Enira knows?" she asked quietly. "About Nira?"
Aven didn't answer immediately.
"I think she knows a lot more than she lets on."
Elara nodded.
The shimmer inside her buzzed again, like it was responding to the name. To the truth.
Like it remembered.
As she stepped into the sunlight streaming through the east windows, her fingers brushed the cover once more.
"Marked. Shimmered. Exiled."
But she wasn't going to run.
She wasn't Nira.
She was Elara.
And she was staying.
She just had to survive long enough to learn why.