“You said she touched you?” Dylan asked, crouching in front of Stacy, his voice low but urgent.Stacy sat on the penthouse couch, arms wrapped around her knees, eyes wide. “I didn’t even see her. I just… felt something. Cold. Like something brushed the back of my neck.”Rachel sat beside her, gripping her hand. “You’re sure it wasn’t your imagination?”“She whispered something,” Stacy said. “I don’t know what it was, but I felt it inside my head.”Dylan turned to Nyra. “Can she mark someone mentally?”Nyra frowned. “Not in the way a wolf marks. But she can tether her presence to a person’s aura.”Rachel blinked. “So she’s… what? Watching her?”Nyra hesitated. “Or waiting.”Dylan stood. “I need to know what she did. Scan her.”Stacy recoiled. “Scan me? What—like magic MRI?”Nyra crouched slowly. “Close enough. I won’t hurt you.”Stacy looked at Rachel.Rachel nodded. “It’s okay.”Nyra reached forward, placing two fingers against Stacy’s temple. Her eyes fluttered shut. A soft silver gl
Rachel gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles pale against the wood. “She wasn’t alone.”Dylan raised an eyebrow, his gaze sharp. “You mean at the execution?”Rachel nodded slowly. “Someone was there. A man. Tall. Cloaked in gold and black. He stood behind the crowd. He never moved. Just… watched.”Nyra leaned forward, her brow furrowed. “The Executioner?”“No,” Rachel said firmly. “She didn’t fear him. She looked right at him. Not with fear. With *recognition*. She *knew* him. Right before the flames reached her, she found him in the crowd.”“What did she say?” Dylan asked, his voice barely above a whisper.Rachel's throat tightened, but she forced the words out. “She whispered… ‘You were supposed to protect me.’”Dylan’s jaw clenched, and his fists tightened at his sides. “Who the hell was he?”“I don’t know,” Rachel said, voice quiet. “But I’ve seen his eyes before. Not in the memory. Recently.”Nyra froze. “Describe them.”Rachel met her gaze, the image burned into her mind.
Rachel stared at him. The Warden of Ash. Cloaked in dark gold, unmoving beneath the red-hazed sky. “You ordered her execution?” Her voice echoed unnaturally. “You watched her burn.” He didn’t flinch. “Yes.” “Why?” “She became a threat.” “You were supposed to protect her,” she snapped. “I was supposed to protect *balance*,” he replied calmly. “Elira disrupted it.” “She was fighting for peace.” “She was choosing annihilation.” Rachel’s hands balled into fists. “She was betrayed. Lied to. Cornered.” “And she made a choice,” he said. “One that endangered every realm tied to the moon’s gift.” She stepped closer. “And now I carry her soul. What does that make me to you?” The Warden looked her in the eye. “A warning.” “To who?” He tilted his head. “To everyone who still believes power and peace can coexist.” Rachel's jaw tightened. “You're scared of what I might become.” “I’m not scared,” he said. “But I am prepared.” “For what?” “To stop you if history rep
Rachel didn’t sleep.She lay on the cold marble floor of the training room, eyes open, watching the rune marks pulse faintly in the dark. The moment her eyes flickered silver, something inside her had shifted. She could feel it—quiet, subtle, but alive. Like another presence pressed just behind her thoughts.Dylan found her an hour before sunrise.“You didn’t come back to bed.”She didn’t look at him. “I didn’t want to risk it.”He walked to her, crouched down, resting his elbows on his knees. “You’ve been quiet since the flare.”Rachel finally sat up, brushing her hair back. “Because I felt her. Not just her memories. Her voice.”Dylan’s eyes narrowed. “She spoke?”Rachel nodded. “She said my name. Not Elira. Mine. She said, Rachel, don’t fight me.”His jaw tightened. “That’s new.”“No,” she said. “That’s a warning.”Dylan didn’t speak for a long moment.“I need to accelerate the training,” she said.“You’re already pushing your limits.”She looked at him. “Not fast enough.”“I won’t
Rachel stood under the freezing shower, water crashing against her skin, but it did nothing to quiet the storm inside. Her fingers had stopped glowing, but the sensation lingered—like Elira’s presence was still coiled around her spine, watching her every move.She braced her hands against the tiled wall, breathing heavily, letting the cold slice through her thoughts.She could still hear Elira’s voice.*“Too late.”*Dylan waited outside the bathroom door. He hadn't said a word since they’d rushed her out of the circle. Nyra had wanted to run a full energy purge. Rachel refused. She didn’t want to be cleansed. She wanted to understand.The water turned off. Moments later, the door opened, steam spilling into the hallway. Rachel stepped out, towel around her shoulders, her expression unreadable.“She’s not a voice anymore,” she said. “She’s a presence. A force.”Dylan nodded slowly. “She’s merging.”“No. She’s *moving.* She’s done waiting for me to break.”“Then we stop her.”Rachel lea
Rachel watched the horizon from the balcony, the last hint of dusk melting into darkness. The city sparkled far below, distant and untouched by the chaos that stirred in her veins.Inside her chest, two truths warred for dominance: the Warden’s calm confession and Elira’s searing rage.She still didn’t know which one to trust.The door behind her opened. She didn’t have to look.“You haven’t spoken since the vision,” Dylan said.Rachel nodded, but said nothing.He stepped beside her. “Say something.”“I’m trying to make sense of it.”“Of what? That the Warden didn’t throw her into the fire, she *asked* for it?”She turned toward him. “Would you believe me if I said I understand?”His eyes narrowed. “Understand what?”“The desire to give up before losing control.”Silence fell between them.Dylan’s jaw tightened. “Don’t ever say that again.”“I’m not giving up. I’m saying… I get it now. The pressure. The weight. Elira was breaking, and no one listened. Not until it was too late.”“You
The air inside the penthouse shifted the moment the wards were sealed. Nyra had drawn runes on every surface—windows, walls, even beneath the furniture. Silvery ink glowed faintly under dim light, vibrating with quiet energy. The moon eclipse was twenty-four hours away. The countdown had begun. Rachel stood barefoot in the center of the main room, surrounded by salt lines and symbols written in ancient tongue. Her heart pounded, not from fear, but from anticipation. Her time was running out. And so was her control. Stacy stood off to the side, arms crossed, watching every move like she was ready to jump in at the first sign of trouble. Dylan moved silently behind Nyra, assisting her as she laid the final ward across the ceiling. “How long will this link last?” Rachel asked, eyes flicking between the glowing symbols. Nyra didn’t look up. “Long enough to either ground you… or lose you completely.” Rachel tried to swallow the lump in her throat. “And Dylan will be inside my mind?”
The wind outside the penthouse howled like something ancient had awakened. The eclipse was a few hours away. The sky had already begun its transformation—its deep blue turning pale gray, clouds crawling like shadows ready to devour the sun. Inside, the wards pulsed steadily, glowing brighter than usual, reacting to the shift in the air. Rachel sat at the dining table, staring at the untouched tea Nyra had made for her. She hadn’t spoken since waking. Not to Dylan. Not to Stacy. The conversation with Elira echoed in her skull like a warning bell she couldn’t silence. Only one of us survives. She didn’t know what that meant—not really. But every time she blinked, she saw Elira’s face burned into the backs of her eyelids, watched her vanish into cracked sky, felt the weight of a promise she hadn’t made. Stacy sat across from her, arms folded over a book, watching. Not reading. Just there. Waiting. “I don’t like this,” Stacy said quietly. Rachel didn’t respond. Stacy tapped t
The storm rolled in without warning.By morning, the Bunga skyline was hidden behind sheets of rain and fog. Clouds hung low and thick, choking the sun into a dull gray smear. Rachel stood at the center of Nyra’s ritual chamber, dressed in black training gear, bare feet planted on cool stone. Her eyes remained closed, her breathing calm, but the storm outside mirrored the chaos pressing against the edges of her mind.The First Flame’s final words echoed louder each day.*“Elira was the second.”*There had been another.A predecessor. A first.And Rachel knew one thing: if that woman’s existence had been buried, it wasn’t by accident.Nyra lit the final rune candle, her lips moving in a low chant. Stacy stood at the door, arms folded, not interrupting but not relaxing either. Dylan leaned against the wall, bruised and silent. Since Ashvale, his mood had shifted—protective, but distant, as if he was bracing for something they couldn’t name yet.Rachel opened her eyes.“I’m ready.”Nyra
The journey back to Bunga was quiet.Too quiet.Rachel sat in the back of the armored vehicle, her hand pressed to Dylan’s chest, steadying the healing pulse Nyra had cast over his heart. He hadn’t woken. His skin had warmed slightly, but his breathing remained shallow. She counted every breath like it was a countdown—one she couldn’t afford to lose.Stacy sat across from them, bruised and scraped but alert, her gaze locked on Dylan’s unconscious face. She hadn’t spoken since they left the ruins. Rachel knew why.They’d seen something ancient.Something wrong.And it was awake now.Nyra sat by the rear door, muttering incantations under her breath, casting protective wards over the vehicle as it rolled down the cracked mountain road. Each spell flickered like a shield, a desperate buffer against whatever might still be watching them from the trees.“She took the name ‘The First Flame,’” Rachel said softly, breaking the silence.Stacy looked up. “Do you know who she is?”“Not exactly.
Rachel didn’t sleep that night. Again.The Council’s eyes had followed her out of the stone chamber with suspicion half-tamed and fear barely concealed. Though they hadn’t imprisoned her—or worse—they hadn’t accepted her, either. She wasn’t a threat, not yet, but she wasn’t an ally, and she could feel it in the silence they left behind. A silence that made the back of her neck itch.Now, hours later, she sat by the window of Dylan’s bedroom, curled up in a chair with her legs pulled to her chest, watching the first blush of morning bleed across the skyline. Another sleepless night. Another weight she couldn’t name pressing into her chest.“You ever going to tell me what they really said in there?”Dylan’s voice came from the bed. He hadn’t turned the light on. He didn’t need to.Rachel didn’t turn around. “You already know.”“They think you’re a coin toss.”She nodded. “And they want to know which side I’ll land on when things break.”Dylan stood and crossed the room. He knelt in fron
Rachel stood before the floor-length mirror in her bedroom, staring at her reflection—not for vanity, but to make sure she still recognized the face staring back. Her eyes no longer flashed silver. Her aura no longer surged uncontrollably. The storm within had stilled, but that quiet carried its own kind of warning.She pressed a palm to her chest. The bond that once strained her soul felt like a scar now—healed but never forgotten. She wasn’t Elira. But Elira was now, undeniably, a part of her.A soft knock on the door broke the silence.“It’s open,” she called.Stacy entered, holding a tray with toast and Nyra’s herbal tea. “If you skip another meal, Dylan’s gonna drag you to the kitchen himself.”Rachel gave a soft smile. “Thanks.”Stacy set the tray down and sat on the edge of the bed. “So… you really feel normal again?”Rachel paused. “I feel different. But not unstable.”Stacy studied her carefully. “What does that mean?”“It means I feel like me. Just... upgraded.” She gave a s
The air was still. Heavy. The kind of silence that pressed against your eardrums, stretching time itself. Rachel sat at the edge of the ritual circle, the same one that had nearly torn her apart hours earlier. Her legs were folded, spine straight, palms resting against her knees. Her breathing was steady now. No silver light. No flickers of power. No whispers from Elira. Just silence. For the first time in weeks, she felt... alone in her own mind. And yet, not. ere You’re different,” Stacy said, standing in the doorway. “Even your posture. It’s like you’re still you, but... more.” Rachel opened her eyes slowly. “Because I am.” Stacy walked in, barefoot, cautious. “You said you chose both. What does that mean?” Rachel looked up, meeting her gaze. “It means I didn’t destroy Elira. I accepted her.” “You *what*?” “She’s not whispering in my head anymore. She’s part of me. Not separate.” Stacy sat down across from her. “That sounds... dangerous.” “It is,” Rachel admitted. “But d
The wind outside the penthouse howled like something ancient had awakened. The eclipse was a few hours away. The sky had already begun its transformation—its deep blue turning pale gray, clouds crawling like shadows ready to devour the sun. Inside, the wards pulsed steadily, glowing brighter than usual, reacting to the shift in the air. Rachel sat at the dining table, staring at the untouched tea Nyra had made for her. She hadn’t spoken since waking. Not to Dylan. Not to Stacy. The conversation with Elira echoed in her skull like a warning bell she couldn’t silence. Only one of us survives. She didn’t know what that meant—not really. But every time she blinked, she saw Elira’s face burned into the backs of her eyelids, watched her vanish into cracked sky, felt the weight of a promise she hadn’t made. Stacy sat across from her, arms folded over a book, watching. Not reading. Just there. Waiting. “I don’t like this,” Stacy said quietly. Rachel didn’t respond. Stacy tapped t
The air inside the penthouse shifted the moment the wards were sealed. Nyra had drawn runes on every surface—windows, walls, even beneath the furniture. Silvery ink glowed faintly under dim light, vibrating with quiet energy. The moon eclipse was twenty-four hours away. The countdown had begun. Rachel stood barefoot in the center of the main room, surrounded by salt lines and symbols written in ancient tongue. Her heart pounded, not from fear, but from anticipation. Her time was running out. And so was her control. Stacy stood off to the side, arms crossed, watching every move like she was ready to jump in at the first sign of trouble. Dylan moved silently behind Nyra, assisting her as she laid the final ward across the ceiling. “How long will this link last?” Rachel asked, eyes flicking between the glowing symbols. Nyra didn’t look up. “Long enough to either ground you… or lose you completely.” Rachel tried to swallow the lump in her throat. “And Dylan will be inside my mind?”
Rachel watched the horizon from the balcony, the last hint of dusk melting into darkness. The city sparkled far below, distant and untouched by the chaos that stirred in her veins.Inside her chest, two truths warred for dominance: the Warden’s calm confession and Elira’s searing rage.She still didn’t know which one to trust.The door behind her opened. She didn’t have to look.“You haven’t spoken since the vision,” Dylan said.Rachel nodded, but said nothing.He stepped beside her. “Say something.”“I’m trying to make sense of it.”“Of what? That the Warden didn’t throw her into the fire, she *asked* for it?”She turned toward him. “Would you believe me if I said I understand?”His eyes narrowed. “Understand what?”“The desire to give up before losing control.”Silence fell between them.Dylan’s jaw tightened. “Don’t ever say that again.”“I’m not giving up. I’m saying… I get it now. The pressure. The weight. Elira was breaking, and no one listened. Not until it was too late.”“You
Rachel stood under the freezing shower, water crashing against her skin, but it did nothing to quiet the storm inside. Her fingers had stopped glowing, but the sensation lingered—like Elira’s presence was still coiled around her spine, watching her every move.She braced her hands against the tiled wall, breathing heavily, letting the cold slice through her thoughts.She could still hear Elira’s voice.*“Too late.”*Dylan waited outside the bathroom door. He hadn't said a word since they’d rushed her out of the circle. Nyra had wanted to run a full energy purge. Rachel refused. She didn’t want to be cleansed. She wanted to understand.The water turned off. Moments later, the door opened, steam spilling into the hallway. Rachel stepped out, towel around her shoulders, her expression unreadable.“She’s not a voice anymore,” she said. “She’s a presence. A force.”Dylan nodded slowly. “She’s merging.”“No. She’s *moving.* She’s done waiting for me to break.”“Then we stop her.”Rachel lea