Three days passed in silence and shadow.
Elena's strength returned slowly, though the mark on her shoulder continued to deepen, spiraling like smoke beneath her skin. Seraphira kept their course northeast, toward the borderlands where forest gave way to stone, and forgotten things still lingered.
They followed no map.
Only the pull.
By the fifth day, the trees gave way to open land, a barren plateau beneath a grey sky. In the distance, half-buried by wind and time, rose the Cracked Moon Temple.
It was older than any kingdom.
Older than any throne.
And no one had dared speak of it in generations.
Legends said it was once a place of balance where the surface kings and the underworld met beneath a shared sky.
But when the Great Betrayal happened, and the Veil was sealed, the temple was broken. Left to rot beneath storms and shadow.
Even so, the spiral mark on Seraphira's wrist ached as they drew near.
The stone steps were worn by centuries, but still held shape. A great archway rose above the entrance, its carvings nearly faded, but one symbol remained clear:
A flame and a crown, entwined.
Seraphira reached out, touched the stone.
The mark on her wrist flared.
Elena gasped, staggering. Did you feel that?
Seraphira nodded. He's been here.
They stepped inside.
The temple interior was cold. Hollow. Echoing.
Pillars of bone-white stone rose like ribs into a ceiling carved with stars. Dust choked the air, but some force still clung to the walls, a power that refused to die.
And at the far end of the chamber stood a pedestal.
Upon it rested an ancient blade.
Not beautiful. Not ceremonial.
A war-knife.
Its hilt was blackened iron, wrapped in cloth that had long since crumbled. But the edge was clean. Sharp. Waiting.
Seraphira stepped forward, compelled.
Don't, Elena warned. What if it's cursed?
It is, Seraphira whispered. But not in the way you think.
She reached for it.
The moment her fingers brushed the hilt, the temple responded.
A gust of wind howled through the chamber. The walls trembled. And above them, the shattered ceiling let in a shaft of silver moonlight though no moon had been seen for nights.
Then,
A voice.
"She takes the blade of ruin."
"She remembers the fire."
"And the Devil remembers her name."
Elena backed toward the entrance.
But Seraphira did not let go.
Instead, she turned to face the whispering dark and raised the blade.
I'm done being hunted, she said. I came to end this.
The stone beneath her feet lit with spiraling flame.
The old temple woke.
And in the Underworld, Kaelreth's blade burned red-hot.
"She has touched my memory," he murmured.
"Now let her see mine."