Alexandra's POV
If you're reading this, then you've reached the point of no return.
So ask yourself: How much of your soul are you willing to sacrifice to find the truth?
Because the deeper you go, the darker it gets.
And I'm already too far in.
The woman beside Lucien didn't blink. Didn't flinch. She moved like water—and I felt myself freezing under her gaze.
She knew me.
No, not just knew me.
She recognized something in me. Like she had been waiting too long for this exact moment, and nothing about it surprised her.
Her lips curled into a small, sharp smile. "You've grown into her face."
Lucien said nothing. He just watched, the silence around him humming like a warning.
Ethan stepped in front of me, blocking my view. "Alexandra, stay behind me."
But I wasn't a child anymore. I wasn't someone to be protected, tucked away while others bled for me. Not after everything I'd lost.
I stepped around him. "Who are you?"
The woman tilted her head. "That's the wrong question."
My heart pounded. "Then what's the right one?"
She walked closer, heels clicking softly against the broken floor. "Who are you?"
I stared. "I'm the daughter of Elena. The heir to the legacy your kind tried to erase."
Her smile deepened. "That's part of it, yes. But not the whole truth."
I blinked. "What?"
Lucien finally moved, his voice low and cold. "Tell her, Selena."
Selena. The name dropped like a knife into water, sending waves of confusion and recognition through me.
I had heard it before. From my mother, once. In a whisper. A warning.
Selena stepped forward, her dark eyes shining like obsidian. "You were never meant to be hidden, Alexandra. But your mother made a choice—a painful one. She tried to lock away what you are."
"What am I?" I demanded, voice shaking.
Selena reached into her coat, pulling out something small and silver—an amulet. A symbol I had seen once, buried in a box my mother had told me never to open. A symbol that pulsed now, glowing softly in her palm.
"You're not just the daughter of Elena," she said. "You're the last living vessel of the White Flame."
My breath caught.
Ethan swore under his breath. "That's not possible. The White Flame line ended decades ago."
"No," Selena said, gaze never leaving mine. "It went into hiding. As a child. In her."
Everything in my body recoiled. "You're lying."
Lucien stepped forward. "We don't lie, Alexandra. Not about blood."
I shook my head, backing away. The White Flame. The ancient bloodline of balance and destruction. A power so rare it was hunted into extinction. And now they were saying I was the last of it?
"That's not who I am," I whispered.
Selena's eyes softened. "But it's why you survived when others didn't. Why does your blood sings when Lucien draws near? Why the shadows chase you—and the fire answers."
"No," I said again. "No, no—this is just another trick. Another manipulation."
Ethan stepped beside me. "Even if it's true, it doesn't change anything. We protect her."
Lucien raised an eyebrow. "From what? Herself?"
The walls trembled slightly. Not from bombs. From me.
Selena looked down at her amulet. "You're awakening, Alexandra. Whether you want to or not."
"I didn't ask for this!"
"And yet here you are."
I felt something inside me twisting, coiling tight. Like a storm building just beneath my skin. I wanted to scream. To run. To make it all stop.
But I couldn't run from my own blood.
"What do you want from me?" I asked, voice raw.
Lucien stepped closer. "To choose."
"Choose what?"
"Which side of the war you'll stand on."
"I didn't even know there was a war!"
He smiled. "You will."
Ethan reached for my hand, grounding me. His fingers were warm. Real. Steady.
Selena tucked the amulet back into her coat. "You'll feel it soon. The change. And when it begins, you'll either burn... or rise."
Lucien turned away. "We'll be watching."
And with that, they vanished.
The smoke swallowed them, like they had never been there at all.
We drove for hours without speaking. The city blurred past in streaks of gray and gold, but my mind was stuck in one place—her words. Her eyes. The truth I didn't want to be real.
"I don't feel different," I said finally.
Ethan glanced at me. "It's not something you feel like a wound. It's something that grows—like fire, slow and quiet... until it devours."
I turned toward him. "You knew about the White Flame."
"I heard stories. Legends. I didn't know it was you."
"What does it mean?" I asked, voice low.
He was quiet a long time.
Finally, he said, "It means you're powerful enough to shift the balance of everything. It means you'll be hunted—not just by enemies, but by people who want to use you. Mold you."
"And what do you want?" I asked, softly.
He didn't answer at first. Then he whispered, "To give you a choice."
Tears stung my eyes. He didn't say "to protect you" or "to own you." Just… choice.
And that mattered more than anything.
We arrived at a safehouse deep in the woods. It belonged to Ethan's old mentor—someone who had gone off-grid years ago. Inside, it smelled like old books and cedar smoke. The silence was thick, comforting.
I dropped onto a worn armchair, staring at the fire. "So, what now?"
"Now," Ethan said, crouching in front of me, "we train."
My brow furrowed. "Train?"
"If they're right—and you really are the last of the White Flame—then you're not safe unless you can control it."
I stared at the flickering fire. "What if I can't?"
He touched my knee gently. "Then I'll help you. Every step."
The next days passed in a blur.
Training.
Sparring.
Meditation I was terrible at.
Learning to listen to my heartbeat. To the fire whispering through my blood.
Sometimes, when I was still enough, I could feel it stir. Like a small ember behind my ribs. Warm. Waiting. Wanting.
But I wasn't ready to let it out. Not yet.
Ethan didn't push. He guided.
And slowly, I began to feel it. Strength I didn't know I had. Awareness I couldn't explain.
But with it came nightmares.
Of my mother, burning.
Of Lucien, smiling.
Of Selena whispering secrets I didn't understand.
And always, always—a voice calling my name from deep inside the flame
On the fifth night, I stood outside the cabin, the moon overhead like a silent eye. The wind was sharp. I was alone—or so I thought.
"You're not sleeping," came a voice behind me.
I turned. Ethan.
I shook my head. "Too much noise in my head."
He joined me. "You're doing better than you think."
"I feel like I'm coming apart."
"Maybe you need to come apart," he said. "To rebuild the real you."
I looked at him, heart thudding. "What if I don't like who that is?"
"Then change her."
We stood there in silence for a while. Then I said, "I need to go back."
He blinked. "To the city?"
"To the beginning. To the place where it all started. My mother's house. There's more she left behind—I can feel it."
Ethan hesitated. "It's dangerous. Lucien—"
"Won't expect it. Not yet."
He studied me, then nodded. "Then we go."
The house stood untouched, a ghost from my past. I hadn't been back since the funeral. Since everything shattered.
Dust covered the windows. The garden had wilted.
But the air still smelled like her.
I stepped inside, heart pounding. Ethan followed close, silent.
I moved through the rooms, drawn by instinct more than memory.
And then I found it.
In the basement.
A hidden room beneath the old shelves—sealed with a symbol I now recognized.
The symbol from Selena's amulet.
My hands trembled as I placed my palm against it.
It glowed. Then clicked.
The door opened.
Inside was a small room, lit by a single lantern.
And at its center—a journal.
Bound in white leather.
With my name burned into the cover.
"Alexandra."
I stepped inside, picked it up, and opened the first page.
And what I saw made me drop it in shock.
Because it wasn't my mother's handwriting.
It was mine.
Dated… five years in the future.