The wind howled through Frostmoor Pass like a warning. Morning light barely filtered through the shattered stained glass of the temple. The stone floor bore marks of their presence—ash from the fire, the furs left disheveled, and faint traces of warmth where passion had bloomed in the cold.
Ren Zian stood beside the altar, shirt half-laced, eyes distant.
Lyra hadn't stirred since dawn. Her breath was soft, her face calm in sleep.
But Ren's mind was elsewhere—on Nyelle's words.
"This pact tempts the man, not the emperor."
He clenched his fists.
Was that what he was now? A man torn between fate and feeling?
Before his thoughts could spiral further, a figure stepped into the chamber.
Nyelle.
She looked pale—her skin luminous with divine energy that hadn't fully settled.
"We need to talk," she said.
Ren nodded, and they stepped outside, walking along the frozen edge of a cliff that overlooked the valley of bones.
"The Herald that called to you is… different," she said. "Not sent by the Gods. Not part of the pact you were supposed to make next."
"Then who sent it?"
"I believe it's a Forgotten One. An exile from the old divine order. One of those who defied the Celestial Accord."
Ren's jaw clenched. "And now it wants to use me."
"No," Nyelle said softly. "It wants to test whether you belong to the Gods—or to something darker."
Back at camp, Arin was sharpening her blade with slow, calculated strokes. Lyra stirred under the furs, groaning slightly. She sat up, blinking at the dim light, realizing Ren wasn't beside her.
A chill that had nothing to do with the weather crept over her.
When she stepped out, she saw Ren speaking with Nyelle—and Arin watching them both.
"Is that jealousy I see again?" Lyra asked as she approached.
Arin didn't glance up. "Don't mistake vigilance for jealousy."
"You kissed him too. But I'm not the one who picked a fight last night."
"You think this is a game?" Arin snapped. "There's more at stake than warm embraces in temple ruins."
"I know that," Lyra said, lowering her voice. "But you can't pretend feelings aren't part of this journey too."
Arin looked up finally. "No. But I can make sure they don't get us killed."
Later, Nyelle called the group together.
"The next trial lies in the heart of the Maw of Harael. But we can't reach it by walking."
"Then how?" Eira asked.
Nyelle's eyes flickered. "We need a Dreamwraith."
Silence fell.
Even Ren looked unsure. "Those creatures haven't been seen in a century."
"I know where one sleeps," Nyelle said. "But waking it requires a price… and a memory."
"A memory?"
"Yes. One you're willing to give up—forever."
That night, they reached the Pool of Echoes, a sacred spring at the edge of the world.
Nyelle led Ren to the water. "Offer the memory you fear most."
Ren stared into the rippling reflection. Then, slowly, he spoke.
"When I was young… I had a sister."
The others froze.
"She wasn't my blood. But she was family. She died because I trusted someone who betrayed us both."
His voice cracked.
"I've carried that guilt every day. But if letting it go gets us to the next trial—so be it."
Nyelle nodded. "Touch the water."
Ren reached down, fingers brushing the surface.
A flash of light burst forth—
—and a Dreamwraith emerged from the pool. Sleek and silver, with antlers made of moonlight and wings of mist. Its eyes held ancient grief.
"You have summoned me, Bound One," it said, voice echoing in every heart.
"Will you carry us?" Ren asked.
"Yes. To the Maw."
As they climbed onto its back, Lyra touched his hand.
"What was her name?" she asked softly.
He shook his head. "I… I don't remember."
Tears welled in his eyes.
"I gave it away."
And as the Dreamwraith soared into the sky, the wind whispered something no one could explain.
A name.
Forgotten.
Lost.
But somewhere, still loved.