Magic Undaunted (The Grimm Files #6)

Chapter 8

Chapter

Eight

ELYRIA

T he edge of the Phantom Bayou loomed ahead, still shrouded in mist and mystery even in what little daylight managed to penetrate its ancient trees twisting into the sky like skeletal fingers, grasping for something just beyond their reach. As she stood at the edge of the bayou, Elyria could feel the weight of their mission resting heavily on her shoulders. The air even here at the outer boundary of the bayou was thick with magic—old, malevolent magic that hummed just beneath the surface, waiting to be disturbed so that it could decimate anything that dared, much like the alligators who lurked just out of sight. Somewhere deep within this bayou lay an ancient fae library, abandoned and hidden by the fae when they had consolidated their realm in Celestia. It had been guarded by magical means for centuries, its secrets lost to all but a few.

Elyria, Stryker and the rest of the rebels believed those secrets could well hold the key to stopping the rogue mage.

She glanced at the group gathered around her. Lirael, her most trusted scout, stood with her bow slung across her back, her sharp eyes scanning the bayou for threats. Finnian, ever the steadfast second-in-command, adjusted the grip on his dual blades, his expression grim.

And then there was Stryker.

He stood slightly apart from the others, his gaze darting between the murky waters and the distant horizon, the tension between them no longer as prevalent as it had been. She was keenly aware of his presence, a reminder of everything that had passed between them—the pain, the anger, and the desire that still simmered.

Elyria wasn’t sure how she felt about how he affected her, how much she still wanted him despite everything, but she also knew she wasn’t willing to give him up. Granted, she’d been hurt before—by him, by the Council—and she wasn’t ready to completely trust him with her heart again, but something had shifted since his confession in the aftermath of the attack. The wall she had built between them had begun to tumble down and she wasn’t sure she wanted to shore it back up. Yet, she felt herself slipping, and she wasn’t sure she could afford to slip. Not now; not when the stakes were so high.

“We need to move,” she said, her voice steady despite the tension coiling inside her. “The library is hidden deep within the bayou. If the rogue mage knows about it, he could already be closing in. We don’t have time to waste.”

Lirael nodded, stepping forward. “I’ll take the lead. The paths in the bayou shift. We’ll need to be careful.”

Finnian gave Elyria a tight nod before moving to follow Lirael. Stryker remained still for a moment longer, his gaze drifting toward her before he finally fell into step beside her.

As they entered the bayou, the air grew colder, the magic pressing in around them like a living thing. The trees whispered in a language Elyria couldn’t quite understand, their branches swaying with a rhythm that felt both familiar and foreign. She had been in the bayou before, but never this deep. Few dared to venture so far.

The journey was perilous. The bayou’s paths warped and shifted, sometimes vanishing altogether, leaving them in disorienting patches of fog. But Lirael’s instincts were sharp, and she guided them through the maze with the precision Elyria had come to rely on. Still, the unease lingered.

Stryker’s presence beside her was a constant reminder of everything she had tried to bury—feelings she thought she had locked away, emotions she had sworn never to feel again had come crashing back to the surface. She felt the pull between them with every step they took together, the magnetic connection that had never truly faded.

She couldn’t help but glance at him, the way his body moved with practiced grace, his stubborn jaw set in determination. There was something about him that still called to her, something raw and untamed. He had always been a force of nature, and that force hadn’t diminished with time.

But there was more now: vulnerability, regret, and a renewed trust.

It was that last part that scared her the most. Elyria wasn’t sure she could let herself trust him again, but it was so hard not to. She had been burned before, and opening herself up to him again felt like inviting the flames back into her life.

Still, something had shifted between them, and as much as she fought it, she couldn’t deny the comfort she found in his presence and with his touch. It was a double-edged sword, one she wasn’t sure she could handle.

“Are you all right?” Stryker’s voice cut through her thoughts, low and laced with concern.

Elyria blinked, realizing she had been lost in her own head. She forced a nod. “I’m fine.”

He didn’t look convinced, his dark eyes searching hers for a moment longer. “You’ve been quiet.”

Elyria shrugged, trying to keep her voice casual. “We’re in the Phantom Bayou. I’m trying to focus.”

Stryker’s lips twitched into a small smile. “I know you better than that, Elyria. You’ve been avoiding me… emotionally.”

She stiffened, heat rising in her cheeks. When had he become so touchy-feely and wanting to talk about emotions? “I’m not; I’m trying to keep us alive.”

Stryker didn’t push further, but his gaze lingered on her for a beat longer before he turned his attention back to the path ahead. Elyria let out a quiet breath. The strain between them still existed, a constant reminder of everything that still lay unresolved between them.

They continued in silence for a while longer, the bayou growing more ominous as they ventured deeper into it. The weight of the magic pressing down on them was almost suffocating, the trees whispering louder, their words more urgent. Lirael signaled for them to stop, her hand raised as she crouched by a patch of mangled roots.

“We’re close,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the eerie hum of the trees. “I can feel the wards protecting the entrance.”

Elyria’s pulse quickened as she stepped forward. She could sense the ancient magic woven into the air, powerful and dangerous. The library was hidden well—hidden for good reason.

“This is it,” Finnian murmured, his voice low as he stood beside her. “Hopefully the answers we need are in there.”

Elyria nodded, but her attention was drawn to Stryker. He stood just behind her, his expression unreadable, but his presence settled over her like a heavy cloak. She could feel the tension radiating from him, the unspoken connection between them thickening with every passing moment.

“We’ll find what we need,” Stryker said quietly, his voice low and steady. “And when we do, we’ll stop the mage… and whoever is backing him.”

Elyria’s breath caught in her throat as his words washed over her. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to trust that they could do this together. But the fear of vulnerability, of letting him in again, gnawed at her. And if she made the wrong choice, it wasn’t just her who would pay the price.

“You’re sure we can stop him?” she asked, her voice softer than she intended.

Stryker’s gaze softened, and he took a step closer, his hand hovering near hers as if he wanted to reach out but wasn’t sure if he should. “We’ve done the impossible before, haven’t we?”

A small, bitter laugh escaped her. “And look where that got us.”

His eyes darkened with something she couldn’t quite place. “I won’t let it end like that again, Elyria. Not this time.”

For a moment, the world around them seemed to fade, leaving only the two of them standing amidst the ancient magic of the bayou. The pull between them was undeniable, the memories of their shared past swirling in the air, heavy with both desire and regret.

Elyria swallowed hard, her pulse racing. “I want to believe you, Stryker. I really do.”

He stepped even closer, his body brushing against hers in the darkness, the heat of him sending a shiver through her. “Then let me prove it.”

Before she could respond, a sharp crack echoed through the bayou—the sound of ancient wards breaking. Lirael’s voice cut through the tension. “The entrance is open!”

Elyria jolted back into focus, pulling away from Stryker as the reality of their mission crashed back into place. She couldn’t afford to lose herself in him—not now, maybe not ever.

“Let’s move,” she ordered, her voice steady but her heart still racing.

The veil of invisibility fell away, revealing an ancient, moss-covered stairwell spiraling down deep into the earth. The air grew colder and heavier with magic as Elyria and her team descended into the depths of the hidden fae library. The soft glow of enchanted crystals lit their way, casting eerie shadows on the walls that seemed to shift and pulse with life. Elyria’s heart raced with every step, her senses on high alert.

As they began their descent into the hidden depths of the library, Elyria knew one thing for certain: the path ahead might be dangerous, but the one between her and Stryker was even more so. And with both, there was no turning back.

Beside her, he moved in silence, his presence both comforting and maddeningly distracting. He hadn’t spoken since their brief exchange at the entrance, but Elyria could feel the tension between them growing with every passing second. It was as if the magic of the library itself was amplifying everything—their emotions, their connection, the unresolved feelings that had simmered between them for so long.

But there was no time to dwell on that. They were here for answers to questions that had nothing to do with the two of them.

Ahead, Lirael led the way, her bow drawn, her sharp eyes scanning the gloom for threats. Finnian flanked her, his dual blades ready in his hands. They were nearing the heart of the library, the place where the most dangerous and powerful knowledge had been kept hidden for centuries.

As they reached the bottom of the stairs, the narrow corridor opened up into a vast chamber, the ceiling so high it disappeared into the shadows. Shelves lined the walls, filled with ancient tomes and scrolls, their magic pulsing faintly in the air. But the room was far from abandoned.

Standing between them and their goal were a series of magical traps and guardians—figures of stone and metal, their eyes glowing with an eerie light, their forms still but charged with lethal energy.

Elyria’s breath caught as she surveyed the room. She could feel the raw power radiating from the traps, the intricate web of magic woven into the very fabric of the space. “We’ll need to be careful,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “These traps are old—ancient—and they’re designed to kill.”

Lirael nodded, her grip tightening on her bow. “What’s the plan?”

“We move together,” Elyria said, her mind already working through the puzzle of how to dismantle the traps. “Lirael, you keep an eye on the guardians. They’ll come to life the moment we trip one of the wards. Finnian, you’re with me. We’ll need to disable the magic around them.”

Stryker stepped forward, his gaze locked on hers. “I’ll handle the traps.”

Elyria’s heart skipped a beat at the way he said it—so confident, so sure of himself. She hated how much she still relied on that confidence, how much she still trusted him despite everything.

But now wasn’t the time to argue.

“Fine,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt. “But stay close. We can’t afford any mistakes.”

Together, they moved into the chamber, their steps slow and deliberate, every breath measured. Elyria could feel the magic thrumming around them, a living thing, coiled and ready to strike the moment they faltered. She worked quickly, her fingers weaving through the strands of magic that connected the traps to the guardians, her mind racing to dismantle them before they triggered.

Beside her, Stryker was a force of calm, his movements precise as he navigated the labyrinth of traps with a practiced ease. There was something about the way he worked, the way his skill seemed to flow so naturally with her magic, that reminded her of the way they had once fought side by side—like two halves of a whole, perfectly in sync.

“You’re still good at this,” Stryker murmured, his voice low as they disabled another trap.

Elyria glanced at him, her pulse quickening at the intensity in his gaze. “So are you.”

He gave a faint smile, but there was a weight behind it, something unsaid that lingered between them. “I never stopped thinking about us. About what we could’ve been.”

Elyria’s heart stuttered, but she forced herself to focus, to push down the emotions swirling inside her. “This isn’t the time, Stryker.”

He nodded, but his eyes never left hers, the tension between them crackling in the air. “Maybe not. But it’s the truth.”

Before she could respond, a soft hum filled the air, the telltale sign of a trap springing to life. Lirael’s voice rang out, sharp and clear. “The guardians!”

The stone figures around the room began to move, their eyes glowing brighter as they stirred from their ancient slumber, their massive forms shifting with deadly intent. The ground trembled beneath their feet as the guardians advanced, their weapons raised.

“Fall back!” Elyria shouted, her heart racing as she summoned her magic, the familiar surge of power flowing through her veins. Stryker was already at her side, shifting, his wings flaring as he moved to protect her, their movements perfectly aligned, just like old times.

The battle was swift and brutal. Stryker took to the air, disorienting the guardians as Lirael’s arrows flew through the air, striking them with deadly precision, while Finnian’s blades flashed in the dim light, cutting through the enchanted stone. Elyria wove her magic through the chaos as they fought as a team, their connection stronger than it had ever been.

But it wasn’t just the battle that stirred something inside Elyria. It was the way they moved together, the way their bodies and magic seemed to recognize each other, as if no time had passed. She hated how much she still needed him, how much she still wanted him.

And she could feel him watching her, too, his eyes dark with something raw and unspoken.

When the last guardian fell, the chamber grew quiet again, the air thick with the lingering energy of the fight. Elyria stood panting, her heart racing as she looked around at the fallen figures, their once-lethal forms now nothing but crumbled stone and broken metal.

“We did it,” Finnian muttered, wiping the sweat from his brow.

But Elyria’s attention was elsewhere. Her gaze had already shifted to the far end of the chamber, where closed, ancient stone doors began to open slowly, revealing a faint light within.

The heart of the library.

Without a word, she moved toward the door, her pulse quickening with every step. Stryker followed close behind, his presence a steady, comforting weight even as her mind raced with the implications of what they might find.

They stepped inside a room bathed in a soft, golden light. Shelves of ancient tomes lined the walls, but it was the massive stone pedestal in the center of the room that drew their attention. Upon it lay a single scroll, its surface glowing faintly with magic.

Elyria’s breath caught as she approached the scroll, the weight of the moment pressing down on her. This was it. It had to be. Here lay the answers they had been searching for.

She reached out, her fingers trembling slightly as she unrolled the parchment. Her eyes scanned the ancient writing, her heart sinking as the horrifying truth became clear.

“The weapon…” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “It’s not just a weapon. It’s designed to unravel the very fabric of the fae realm. If the mage completes it, he won’t just destroy us—he’ll destroy everything.”

Stryker’s jaw tightened, his hand coming to rest on her shoulder. “We’ll stop him. We have to. It doesn’t matter what it takes, he and those who support him cannot be allowed to win.”

Elyria looked up at him, finally seeing him for who he was. She had always known the stakes were high, but this—this was beyond anything she had ever imagined. The rebels couldn’t do this alone. For better or worse, she and her people were going to have to trust Stryker. She just hoped it wouldn’t cost them everything.