The wind shifted the moment they left the ruins.
Not north. Not east. But inward.
Seraphira felt it in her bones as though the forest now moved around her, not the other way around. The trees bent subtly in her direction. The birds fell silent when she passed.
Even the light seemed to follow her.
Elena noticed it too.
Something's changed, she said.
It's the fire, Seraphira murmured. It's… awake.
She felt it now with every breath. A current beneath her skin, flickering like a second soul. Her heartbeat no longer thudded alone, it echoed, and the echo came from deep beneath the world.
Elena watched her warily.
Do you feel like yourself?
Seraphira hesitated.
…No.
And yet… more herself than ever before.
🌒 That night, they made camp on a ridge overlooking the Vale of Ash.
Elena slept. But Seraphira did not.
The blade from the Cracked Moon Temple rested beside her. The mark on her wrist glowed faintly no longer searing, but steady.
She stared into the fire.
It whispered.
No words.
Just memory.
She saw flickers of herself standing beside Kaelreth on a balcony of black stone, the stars red above them. She wore no cloak. No fear. Only flame-wrought armor and a crown that bled light.
You are the one who unites. You are the one who burns. You are the one he waits for.
She tore her eyes away.
I didn't ask for any of this, she muttered.
And somewhere in the darkness, the fire answered:
You were born for it.
🌑 In the underworld…
Kaelreth stood before the Third Gate.
The seal was cracked now runes pulsing with ancient fire. His generals stood behind him, armored in obsidian, watching.
"She's waking," said Malkor.
Kaelreth nodded.
"She remembers."
"And when she remembers everything?"
Kaelreth's golden eyes flared.
"Then she will come to me."
He reached out his hand and fire swirled into his palm. Not just power.
Recognition.
For the first time in centuries, the Devil King smiled.
And whispered,
"My queen."