Oren's body was still warm when Elira reached him.
She dropped to her knees, pressing trembling hands to his wound, even though she already knew—too much blood, too little time. His throat was mangled, not by blade, but by something darker. Something that burned and twisted as it killed.
A curse.
Her breath caught as the magic lingered under her skin, tingling like cold metal against her spine. Whatever had done this hadn't just killed him—it had marked him.
Behind her, Kael's voice rang sharp through the woods.
"Mira, Thorne—scout the perimeter. Sienna, cover the rear. Jareth, eyes on the ridge."
The soldiers scattered, blades drawn. But Elira stayed where she was.
Still kneeling.
Still trying to understand.
She let her magic slip beneath her skin, quiet as a whisper. Not to save him—it was already too late for that—but to listen.
To feel.
And something answered.
A voice. Slick and cold. Not in any language she knew, but ancient. Too ancient.
"You reach for death like a lover, child... Shall I take you too?"
Elira yanked her hands back, gasping, stumbling into the dirt.
Kael was there in a heartbeat, steadying her. "What the hell just happened?"
"I… I didn't call it." Her voice shook. "It saw me. It knew I was watching."
"What saw you?"
Her eyes flicked to Oren's corpse. "The voice. The thing inside the mask. It's not the Undying King—not exactly. But it carries his magic. His rot."
Kael's jaw tightened. "A disciple."
She nodded. "Or a vessel."
"And it attacked us out here for one reason." His voice dropped low. "You."
Her throat closed up.
"They're not hunting Dravaryn," she said. "They're hunting me."
They buried Oren at sunrise.
No ceremony. No hymns.
Just cold silence and the sound of shovels hitting frozen dirt.
Mira placed his broken blade on top of the grave. Jareth murmured something about honor. Sienna didn't say a word. Thorne stood too still.
Elira, for once, kept her magic to herself. She didn't trust it right now. Not when her hands still felt haunted by that voice.
Kael stood beside her, watching the woods like he expected another shadow to crawl out of the trees.
"We move at nightfall," he said.
She didn't hesitate. "We move now."
He turned to her. "You're still pale."
"That's not weakness." She met his eyes. "That's fury."
Something like respect flickered in his gaze.
"Then let's ride."
They reached the edges of Vael'Harth just after dusk.
Mist curled around their boots like fingers.
Elira pulled her horse to a stop. "Hold."
Kael raised a hand. The group froze.
Ahead, the fog shifted—not natural movement. It wasn't wind. It was breathing.
Kael cursed softly and drew his blade. "Positions."
But before they could fully react, they were surrounded.
Shadows surged out of the fog—tall and gaunt, more smoke than flesh. No mouths. No eyes. Just split masks and clawed hands that moved too fast for logic.
The forest exploded into chaos.
Jareth loosed arrow after arrow. Mira rolled beneath one creature, slicing upward. Thorne screamed once—then vanished into the mist.
Sienna shouted a warning, but it was swallowed whole.
Kael stood in front of Elira, blade flashing silver. "Elira, now would be a great time to—"
She stepped forward.
No words. No gesture.
Just her breath steadying.
Her eyes glowed—violet, fierce, unafraid.
And then she spoke.
A single word.
"Ashâr."
The air around her collapsed.
Magic pulsed from her chest like a second heartbeat—deep, cold, ancient. The fog shrieked. The shadows convulsed. The forest bent in on itself. And in one blinding moment, the creatures dissolved.
When it was over, nothing remained but scorched earth and silence.
Not even ash.
The soldiers stared at her.
Mira didn't speak.
Sienna muttered a prayer under her breath.
Jareth's hands shook as he lowered his bow. "What… what was that?"
Elira turned slowly.
Her hands were still glowing faintly.
Her voice calm. Unapologetic.
"That was the part of me they couldn't kill."
Later, as the fire crackled low and tents were pitched in a crooked circle, Kael found her by the stream.
She sat barefoot in the water, elbows on her knees, cloak forgotten beside her.
He didn't ask. He just sat beside her.
After a while, she broke the silence. "I didn't want them to see me like that."
"Why not?"
"Because now they know."
Kael frowned. "Know what?"
"That I'm not scared of it anymore."
She glanced at him. "Power. I used to flinch from it. I used to think… if they saw too much, they'd destroy me again. But now?" She exhaled. "Now I'm just done hiding."
He watched her for a long moment. "They still fear you."
"They should."
Silence again. Gentle. Unsettling.
"What was that word you said?" Kael finally asked.
"Ashâr."
He turned toward her. "Where did you learn it?"
She shook her head. "I didn't learn it. I remembered it."
He blinked.
"In Maelgard… they buried part of me. Cut it out with magic. But it's coming back. Piece by piece."
Kael was quiet.
Then: "What does it mean?"
Her eyes softened. "It means awakening."
They reached the outer ridge of Vael'Harth before moonrise.
It loomed before them—half mountain, half cathedral, its spires twisting upward like broken spears. The doors were sealed with runes that pulsed like heartbeats.
Elira stared at it for a long time.
She didn't blink.
Later, as the others settled into uneasy sleep, she stepped out of her tent. The moon caught her hair, silvering it. Her blanket slipped off her shoulders.
Kael was on watch.
"You're awake," he said.
"I haven't slept since the vision."
He didn't respond. Just watched her as she came to stand beside him.
She was quiet for a long time. Then:
"Do you want to know what they called me in Maelgard?"
He looked at her. "Only if you want to tell me."
She nodded once. "Ash-Bound."
He went still.
"They forbade my name. Said it was dangerous. They thought my bloodline held something ancient. Something tied to the King."
Kael's voice was quiet. "Did it?"
She nodded again. "I'm not descended from him. I'm descended from her."
"The queen who sealed him away?"
Elira's eyes burned. "She gave everything to lock him in chains of memory and bone. And I'm what's left of her line."
He turned to her fully now.
"Elira… if that's true—"
"Then I was born for one purpose."
Her voice didn't tremble.
"To finish what she started."