bCHAPTER /bb72 /b

It had been days.

Saphira hadn’t stepped beyond the threshold of her room since the truth had detonated inside her chest–sharpb, /brelentless, and echoing. bEverything /bbshe /bthought she knew had splintered, ripples of memory and revision bleeding through each corner of her life.

Her room had be her refuge, her barricade, her stillness. A hollow space where no expectations reached her, where bsilence /bwrapped tight enough to muffle the noise outside and the even louder noise within.

Visitors came in waves.

Finn and Amara had been the first–quiet, warm presences who sat without pushing. Finn had offered a tentative smile, Amara ba /bhand on her shoulder. bThey /bdidn’t press her to talk. Didn’t ask her to move. They simply brought stillness of their own and stayed long enough to leave a lingering trace bof /bfort bin /b

their wake.

Then came Raven and Talia. They stood in the doorway, uncertain and tentative–hovering like they weren’t sure if bthey /bbelonged inside bthe /bweight biof /i/bher grief. Raven had offered her favourite blend of tea, her fingers trembling just slightly. Talia brought two books and a tired bsmile/b. bThey /bbdidn’t /bstay long.

Niks hade too.

He never asked how she was. Never asked anything at all, really.

He just sat. Sometimes near. Sometimes across the room. asionally, he would speak–soft updates about the search for Damon. Leads that led to nothing. Glimpses of movement in the eastern woods. Names. Locations. Suspicion. She absorbed the words, nodded when it felt expected–but they floated past her like leaves on the current. She wasn’t ready to hold them.

He’d also told her, in that low, carefully weighted tone of his, that Zafira and Anastasia had both been discharged from the hospital. That they bwere /bsafe now. Resting, Staying just down the hall. He had even told her the room numbers–not in expectation, just in caseb. /bbAs /bif nting signposts on a trail she could choose to follow when she bwas /bready.

She remembered nodding. Maybe even saying “thank you.” Or maybe just thinking it.

But on the morning of the fourth day, something shifted.

The air tasted clearer when she woke.

Saphiray on her back, nket tangled around one leg, her eyes tracing the familiar wooden beams of her ceiling. For t didn’t feel like it was copsing inward. The pressure was still there but thinner. Bearable.

t time in days, her chest

A dream clung to her- faint now, like mist evaporating under morning light. The cold stone corridors of Silvermoon. Lupus‘ voiceb, /btoo smooth to trustb. /bCassandra’s smile, honey–sweet and venomous. Every word sharpened by control. Every kindness manufactured.

It matched Anastasia’s story too perfectly.

The way Lupus had yed his role. The way the Elders had closed the door on her birth with chilling finality.

But it was thest thought–the one that hit her just as the bsun /bfiltered through the curtains–that anchored her breath and sat like stone in her chest.

Why did the Elders get involved at ball/bb? /b

She sat up slowly, nket dragging across her shoulders like bworn /barmour. Her fingers clenched around the fabric, anchoring herself bin /bthat single question.

There were too many missing pieces still.

But that one?

bThat /bbone /bdidn’t just not fit.

It shouldn’t bhave /bbeen bthere /bbat /ball.

The hallway was quiet when Saphira finally stepped out of her room, the kind of quiet that felt purposeful–as if the walls themselves understood the wron↑ ready to be seen just yet.

Her bfeet /bmoved on instinct, bare against the cool wood, drawn more by an ache in her chest than any clear decision. She’d showeredb, /bbpulled /bon somethingfortable, loosely braided her hair–but it all felt like armour. Thin, makeshift armour holding back the weight of what she’d learned.

When she reached the lower levels, she paused at the curve in the hall, her hand hovering near the frame of Niks‘ office door. Voices–blow /bones–driftet from inside.

She pushed gently.

Niks and Jed were mid–conversation, seated across from one another at the worn oak desk. Both looked up, startled but not unkindlyb. /b

Niks stood immediately, concern shing across his face. “Saphira.” He took a slow step forward. “Hey–are you-?”

She raised a hand, voice quiet. “I’m sorryb. /bI should’ve knocked.”

“It’s okay,” he said gently, his voice losing any edge. “Come in.”

Jed half–stood, ncing between them. “Do you want me to give you some space?”

Saphira shook her head. “You can stay. I don’t mind.”

She eased into the chair opposite Niks, her hands settling in herp. The room smelled faintly bof /bcedarwood and bworn /bparchment. Familiar. Grounding.

Niks leaned forward slightly, elbows braced on the desk. “How are you doing?”

Saphira’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m… okay,” she said, but it wasn’t convincing, even to her. She flicked a nce toward Jed, then Niks again. “There’s something I wanted to ask about.”

They both stilled a little, listening now.

“Zafira,” she said. “Does she remember anything? From when she was taken?”

Niks exchanged a look with Jed, his jaw ticking subtly before he responded. “Not much. Barely anything, actually.”

Jed nodded. “She was subdued fast–too fast. Whatever they used, it wasn’t normal. bEvery /btime someone entered, she w

at to sleep. Magically.”

“A witch,” Niks added. “One skilled enough to mask the energy. bIf /bexins why we weren’t able to find her before.”

Saphira’s fingers tightened slightly in herp. “So, they didn’t want her to bsee /bwho was involved.”

Niks exhaled, nodding grimly.

Saphira looked down for a moment, then raised her gaze. “There’s something else,” she said quietly. “Something Anastasia told me. About bmy /bbirth.”

Saphira hesitated, the words lodging behind her ribs for á breath too long. But then–she released them, quiet and steady.

“She said it bwas /bthe Eldersb,/b” bshe /bmurmured. “They were the ones who told her I died.i” /i

Niks stilled. He leaned back slowlyi, /ibeyes /bnarrowing as ithe /iwords settled. Across from himb, /bJed’s bbrow /bbfurrowed /bsharplyb, /bbhis /bbexpression /bbdarkening /b

Niks blinked, almost bto /bhimself. “I… bwasn’t /bexpecting bthat/bb,/bb” /bhe said, surprise roughening his toneb. /b

The Matchmaker