Seraphira did not lower her blade.
Not even when the scout took another step toward her, his hands raised in peace.
"You speak of the Devil King," she said slowly. "As if he were not a myth."
The scout tilted his head. Do you believe he is?
She hesitated.
Once, she would have laughed at the idea at stories whispered by firelight about a king who ruled the underworld with eyes like molten gold and blood made of shadow.
But now…
Now she bore a mark that no one could explain. Now the world felt stranger with each breath.
And something had looked at her through the broken shrine.
…I don't know what I believe anymore.
The scout nodded. Then you are wiser than most.
He reached into his cloak and pulled something from a leather pouch.
A stone.
Small. Smooth. Blackened like obsidian, but marked with the same spiral etched into her wrist.
He held it out to her.
"This is his sigil. His true mark."
Seraphira didn't take it.
What does he want?
"To find the flame he lost."
Her blood went cold.
What does that mean?
But the scout only tucked the stone into the pocket of her cloak and stepped back.
You have touched the gate, he said. That is more than most. The Veil remembers you now.
She stared at him. Why me?
"Because you were born between worlds. And something within you is waking."
"And when it wakes fully, nothing will stop what comes next."
He turned to go, shadows folding around him like wings.
But just before he vanished, he glanced back once more.
"Do not return to the kingdoms. Do not trust the Circle. Do not seek the gods."
"Why?" she asked.
He paused.
"Because none of them want you to reach him."
Then he disappeared into the mist, and the night swallowed him whole.
🌑 In the Underworld…
Kaelreth Azarion stood at the edge of the Mirror of Ash a pool of still obsidian that showed not reflections, but truths.
And tonight, it showed a face.
Hers.
For the first time in a hundred years, something like pain crossed his eyes. Not from injury but from memory.
He reached toward the mirror with one gloved hand.
And from the stillness rose a flame.
One spark.
One girl.
One omen.
The Hunt had begun.
And the Devil would walk again.