The wind howled louder that night.
Not like the wind of the Frostwood, nor the hollow whispers of the Echoing Pass. This was heavier. Wet. Wrong. It smelled of ashes and melted stone—a scent Aryelle recognized from her vision of the crowned flamebearer.
Kael stood at the edge of camp, head tilted to the breeze. His hand rested on his blade.
"Something's coming," he said.
Halric groaned from his bedroll. "Why is it always something?"
Aryelle was already on her feet. "How many?"
Kael shook his head. "No numbers. Just one."
He didn't say more.
He didn't need to.
Because the sky turned red.
The ground quaked.
A low tremor pulsed beneath their feet—gentle at first, then rolling like thunder trapped underground. Aryelle spun toward the ruins. The old amphitheater was glowing faintly. Cracks split the earth where she had stood earlier.
From them, smoke rose.
No, not smoke.
Fire. With a shape. With teeth.
The creature that emerged from the earth wasn't like anything she'd seen in any book or tale. It was a thing born from ruin—its body twisted and molten, like a statue carved from flowing lava. Horns curled from its brow. Its face was smooth and empty, save for a mouth that split its chest vertically, lined with fangs.
It roared, and the city trembled.
Kael stepped forward.
"That's no beast," he said. "That's a memory."
Aryelle looked at him sharply. "Of what?"
Kael's voice was grim. "Of fire, trapped in stone for too long."
The creature lunged.
Aryelle and Kael split apart—her to the left, blade flashing; Kael to the right, calling shadow like a cloak. The beast's claw struck the ground where they had stood, shattering stone like glass.
Halric swore and rolled behind a crumbled pillar.
Aryelle darted in, slashing at its leg, but her steel hissed against its molten skin. The blade glowed red-hot in seconds.
"Normal metal won't work!" she shouted.
Kael responded by vanishing.
For a moment, she thought he'd left her. Abandoned her.
But then the shadows around the beast's feet rose like spears.
Kael emerged behind the thing, driving his curved blade through its back. It howled—a horrible, wet sound, like fire drowning.
Aryelle saw her chance.
She rushed in again, blade aimed for the throat—the only part that wasn't stone.
But the beast turned faster than it should have.
Its claw caught her mid-strike.
She flew back—hard—crashing into a half-buried column. Stars exploded across her vision. Her ribs screamed.
"Aryelle!" Kael's voice was sharp with something she hadn't heard before.
Fear.
When Aryelle opened her eyes, the world was sideways.
Kael stood over her, sword drawn, eyes blacker than midnight.
The creature was limping now—its chest wound spilling glowing embers, its skin cracked and bleeding liquid flame.
Kael looked down at her. "Can you stand?"
"Define stand," she groaned, coughing.
He helped her up—his touch gentler than expected. "Then we end it together."
Aryelle nodded, biting down pain.
As Kael faced the beast again, Aryelle noticed something.
His shadows—they weren't just following him anymore.
They were mirroring him. Stretching forward, coiling like blades.
Kael raised his free hand. The shadows snapped toward the beast like wolves. Bit into its legs. Its arms.
It shrieked.
And that's when Aryelle threw her dagger.
It wasn't enchanted. Wasn't blessed.
But it was aimed straight for the throat.
The creature moved to block it—instinctive.
Which meant it left its chest open.
Kael surged forward.
His blade sank deep.
Fire exploded outward.
The world went white.
When the light faded, the creature was gone—nothing left but molten cracks in the earth and a foul, smoldering silence.
Aryelle sat in the dirt, gasping.
Kael stood over her again, sword scorched, skin singed.
"That thing," she said. "It was drawn to the Crown."
He nodded. "Drawn to you."
Aryelle looked down at her hands.
They were shaking.
"I saw it. When it looked at me. It remembered the Crown. It knew me."
"You touched something when you entered that vision," Kael said. "Something old. Something watching."
Aryelle wrapped her arms around her knees. "I don't think it's done with me."
Kael crouched beside her, his voice low.
"Then it's not done with me, either."
That night, they didn't speak much.
But they didn't sleep apart, either.
Aryelle sat close to the fire, watching the flame with new fear. Kael sat beside her—close, but not quite touching—his gaze on the dark horizon.
Halric pretended to snore, but he watched them both.
The lines between enemies and allies, between duty and desire, were blurring.
And somewhere beneath the ruins, a second thorn glowed red.
The Crown was waking.
And it remembered her name.