Sunset bled into darkness when Iliya finished the journal completely.

With more questions than answers, she hoped Sorein might be able to shed light on the descriptions of Nioreir. Still, he was only told the same stories she had been. The tunnels beneath the world. Rhydian had even laughed at her once for considering they might be real.

She thought she knew better.

This journal knew better.

No matter how much she tried, Iliya could not find an answer to the Initials she'd come to see engraved on the book itself.

Within the pages, a detailed list of directions on where to go within the Estate and how to access Nioreir. The man – she guessed – elaborated explained how to enter a room with information he claimed she desperately needed.

Nioreir. Home of the living darkness.

D. R. also mentioned attire, explaining leather would be a better fit than guards metal because she could more freely wield mana.

From the sound of it, Iliya knew she'd been signing Sorein up for danger and still hadn't had the heart to tell him more. Not only to hear him deny her. She needed to see it for herself.

She needed a witness.

Iliya spent the evening slipping into her training gear, a pair of black militia pants and her brown leather jacket. Where they were going, she wasn't worried about heat or sweat. Her hands spent time tearing through the knots of her lasting panic and braiding it back. Two braids on each side, joining together into one long tail.

She wound the tail into a dense bun on her head, pinning it into place so she might not worry about getting caught in any potential binds.

Iliya was just about to leave when a breeze of purple light flared from her balcony and Siofra appeared.

Without a second though, she shook her head and waved dismissively to her friend.

"Tonight is not the night, Sio," she said hurriedly, kicking on her leather riding boots. "I'm sorry."

Siofra caught her breath quickly, brows furrowing. "What are you talking about? I just returned from Solraidas."

If she'd ever bothered letting Iliya know any of her plans, she might've accounted for that, but the thought was lost on her. She hadn't seen Siofra since the attack and couldn't face the anger she secretly harbored. It coiled up in her chest like a vicious snake, amped to strike.

Her friend time and again both prioritized Chiori Faire and RIM more than their relationship, a fact Iliya was normally pleased and willing to let go of.

But this time the anchor of her frustration settled next to her writhing snake of rage, pinning her into an uncomfortable corner.

"I'm sorry Siofra, but I have a meeting tonight."

She blinked. "A meeting? Since when did you go to meetings?"

Bite your tongue, Iliya chided herself, her teeth grinding. "Since I spent the week tending the Infirmary and traveling to Mirror Falls with letters for the Head Houses," she said, her voice straining.

"What?" Siofra asked, dumbfounded. "Destry sent you?"

"Yes, me," Iliya snapped back, growing impatient. "I have to go now, I'm sorry."

Instead of leaving, Siofra stepped in her path, guarding the door with her hands stretched. "What's gotten into you?" she demanded.

Iliya sighed, trying to press past her with little luck.

"I don't know," she admitted, shrugging. "People died, Siofra. Men, women, and children have left this world and I was too incapacitated to do anything about it. I can't even walk into the ballroom without feeling my stomach turn to knots and you were off Heilos knows where and for once... For once I don't care."

Siofra stammered, unable to speak.

She didn't want her too.

"I'm not afraid of dying, nor am I going to stay here and hide while others fight," Iliya said, finally gripping Siofra by the shoulder and pulling her out of the way. "I don't know where you've been or what you've been doing while the rest of us rebuild, but I do know you're hiding things from me. I know there's a reason you didn't want me to attend the Final Ceremony in the first place. Frankly, that's all I need to know."

Her friend – boisterous and loud – went utterly still, paling.

"I'm sure you're exhausted from your trip," Iliya murmured, frowning. "Please get some rest."

Dismissing her once again.

Iliya didn't wait to memorize the horrified look on Siofra's features as she pushed out of her room and hurried for the stairs. They would only plague her dreams later.

She was already behind as the last bells chimed through the vast space, echoing as she slipped down one of the many corridors and found herself bursting into the ballroom.

Sorein leaned against one of the many pillars, arms crossed and lost in thought. She'd hoped he'd wear layers, but she wasn't anticipating the loose charcoal sweater he'd chosen to match his own form fitting militia pants. Her brows furrowed, trying to discern if he was dressed for holiday or battle.

When he finally noticed her, he smirked. "What?"

"What are you wearing?" she laughed.

Sorein raised a brow at her, shrugging. "Excuse me if I only intended to stay in Chiori for a week or two at most," he said, chuckling. "You're the one who didn't explain what we were doing."

He wasn't wrong.

Iliya shook her head and gestured for him to follow her. He kept pace beside her, glancing down every now and then. She hadn't been able to notice before, but from the paranoid gestures, she could tell Sorein was restless about something.

"You're awfully quiet tonight," she said, turning into a nondescript stairwell. The spiraling halls led down to the Grand Archive itself. "Everything alright?"

"You tell me," he replied, watching his surroundings. "What are we doing?"

His deflection was smooth, but a deflection nonetheless.

Iliya frowned. "I was afraid if I told you, you might not come with me."

"I agreed, didn't I?"

Iliya crossed her arms, staring him down.

Sorein waved her off. "I'm here now, out with it."

"There is an entrance to Niorier underneath the Estate," she answered. "I'm going in."

Similar to her nightmares, Sorein stopped moving immediately, his expression shifting. He looked back towards the entrance and then down to the Grand Archives giant doors. She'd never seen him look so pensive, contemplating her words.

"You're right," he said, his tone distant and reserved. "This is a terrible idea, Iliya."

Despite the broken record of her mind begging her to slow down, Iliya continued pressing forward. She didn't want to do this alone, the ideal was horrid, but she would.

He grumbled something behind her.

"Iliya, stop," he called. "You don't even know what's down there!"

She reached the door and looked back at him. "You're the one who told me to find the truth, Sorein," she replied, holding herself together by a thread. "You told me to gain knowledge."

He crossed his arms, sighing. "I didn't tell you to go on a fool's errand," Sorein argued. "Not to mention throwing yourself into the nearest hole and hoping he doesn't find you."

Iliya scoffed. "Speaking of wives tales."

A growl stirred in his chest, eyes narrowing in on her. "What?"

She shook her head and opened the door to the Grand Archive. "At least I'm not afraid of a deity who doesn't even exist anymore," she snapped. "You don't have to come, but I'm going."

"Is this about the journal you found?" he asked bitterly. "Iliya?"

She didn't have time to explain.

Iliya paced swiftly through the looming shelves of books and files, casting a glare over her shoulder. Sure enough, the Prince has followed her. His eyes still trained on the back of her head like a bullseye, arms crossed.

An angry father, that's what he reminded her of.

Iliya didn't have time for it.

She found her way to the center of the lofty space, pressing her hands up against the railing guarding the Aphyre. The Ballroom was directly overhead now, though three stories up.

The sensation in her chest was oddly familiar as she followed the pillar of crystal down.

Sorein stopped beside her, still quietly seething.

"Aida help us," he grumbled under his breath. "Is this your grand plan?"

"Leave or don't," she muttered, summoning her Raisa and tethering the energy to the railing. "But please don't antagonize me the entire way down."

He said nothing else, but Iliya thought she heard him whispering a prayer as she threw herself over the railing.

"And if this doesn't work?"

"Then you can lecture me," she said. The dome shaped walls crafted a slide to the bottom, a surface she could balance against as she lowered herself down. "Do you need help?"

He raised an underwhelmed brow at her as she smirked.

Instead of responding, Sorein swiftly hopped over the bars, gaze fixated on the small hole around the Aphyre.

She watched his anger melt into something else, something tighter.

"Ready?" she breathed, looking up at him.

Sorein's stormy gaze locked onto hers. "Iliya..."

"Don't think," she replied, her gaze softening. "Just jump."

Without another thought, Iliya released her hold on the mana and stepped off the ledge.

Plummeting down the dome and sliding into the dark.