My Sister Stole My Mate And I Let Her (Seraphina) novel Chapter 251

Chapter 251: Chapter 251 ELIAS

SERAPHINA’S POV

In addition to the cryptic warning about the gatekeeper who might very well turn me away, the only other thing Alois had told me about the Origins Archives Room was where to find it.

Not inside any building.

Not beneath the Hall of Memories like I’d suspected.

“Behind the institute,” he’d said, tapping a map with his knuckle. “On the rear mountain. Look for the ancient tree. You’ll know it when you see it.”

So I knew exactly where I was going.

But knowing where and knowing what waited there were two entirely different things.

The path behind the research institute sloped upward into the mountain, narrowing the farther I walked.

What began as a neat gravel trail soon dissolved into uneven stone and tangled roots, the trees growing older, thicker, twisted with age. The air itself felt heavier here, quiet but not empty. Expectant. Like a held breath.

It wasn’t until I reached a small ridge that I finally saw it.

A tree—if it could still be called that.

Its trunk was gargantuan, easily wide enough for ten men to wrap their arms around. Its bark was silvery-black, ridged like ancient armor, and its roots sank deep into the mountain stone.

Its canopy stretched so far and high that it eclipsed the sky. The leaves shimmered faintly in the morning light, as if brushed with stardust.

A hollow yawned at its base.

Dark. Round. Deep enough that the sunlight did not reach inside.

My breath caught.

This was no doorway carved by hand. No architectural marvel or engineered seal.

This was nature, shaped by old world magic, opening its ribs to reveal a hidden heart.

And beside it stood a small wooden cabin.

Smoke curled from the chimney. A chopping block sat near the door, an axe embedded in the wood. Beneath the eaves hung strings of dried herbs, talismans, and wind-chimes made of bone and stone.

And sitting on the porch was a man.

Elias.

He looked younger than I expected—maybe late thirties or early forties—but there was something old behind his eyes.

His hair was dark, cut short, streaked with soot or ash, and his features were sharp but worn. Scarred hands rested on his knees as he watched me approach. There was no warmth or curiosity in his gaze, only an unyielding wall of indifference.

When I reached the bottom step, he didn’t bother standing.

“What do you want?” he asked flatly, his voice like gravel.

I swallowed, straightening. “My name is Seraphina. I’m here with Director Alois’s permission. I seek entry to the Origins Archives Room.”

He snorted.

“Permission?” He waved a hand like he was swatting away a mosquito. “I don’t care if the Moon Goddess herself granted you permission. Turn around. Go back.”

“I’m not here for vanity or curiosity,” I insisted. “I’m seeking answers—”

He stood abruptly, and I instantly noticed the uneven shift of his weight. His left leg was a polished metal prosthetic, attached just above the knee, the leather straps worn but meticulously maintained.

He jabbed a finger at me. “Every arrogant young master and lady who comes up here says the same thing. ‘I’m different.’ ‘My purpose is noble.’ ‘My question is important.’ I’ve heard it all.”

He turned away, muttering, “The Origin Archives are not a playground for entitled purebreds who think the world owes them revelations.”

Heat prickled at my cheeks. “I’m not—”

But he was already limping back toward his cabin door.

“This place is not for the likes of you,” he snapped without looking back. “Go home.”

The door slammed shut before I could speak again.

I stood there, stunned, exasperated, and angry in equal measure.

A scream clawed its way up my throat. Every obstacle, every dead end, every smug dismissal I’d faced since arriving had built up like pressure behind my ribs. Now, with the Origin Archives finally within reach, of course, there was yet another barrier in my way.

Alina’s presence wrapped around me, warm and steady, easing the spike of ire.

‘Do not let frustration overwhelm you,’ she whispered. ‘He is only doing what he believes he must.’

I pursed my lips together. Breathed through my nose.

“So what do I do?” I murmured.

‘What you must.’

A wry smile pulled on my lips. “Look at you, jumping on the cryptic train.”

Her amusement soothed me a little more.

I looked around. I had no idea what I sought, but when I knew it when I saw it.

Near the cabin, half-hidden by tall grasses, was a small grave marked by a simple stone. The carving was weathered with age, but the name was still visible. Theresa.

Something inside me softened instantly.

Loss lived here.

Old, quiet, heavy.

And Elias carried it like armor.

I wondered if that was why he guarded the Archives so fiercely.

Something deep in my bones pulled me towards the grave. It had nothing to do with me or my quest. If anything, Elias might find it disrespectful and add my bones to his collection of wind chimes.

Knowing all that, I still moved, each step slow and reverent. Next thing I knew, I was sinking one knee into the earth before the stone.

I placed a hand over my heart. Bowed my head.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify