The light swallows us whole.
For a heartbeat, there's nothing — no sound, no breath, just the press of warmth against my skin. Then the ground reforms beneath my feet, slick and cold.
We're standing at the top of a staircase carved into the earth itself. The steps spiral downward, their edges traced with soft amber light. The air smells of rain and something older, metallic, alive.
Kael draws a slow breath beside me. "This isn't stone," he murmurs, running his fingers along the wall. "It's… bone."
He's right. The walls pulse faintly, veins glimmering beneath the pale surface like trapped lightning. The hum of the realm follows us, a heartbeat we can't quite escape.
We start down.
Each step seems to carry weight — memories pressed into the air. Voices whisper faintly in the distance, too soft to understand. I can feel them brushing against my mind, testing its edges.
When Kael speaks again, his voice is low. "You shouldn't have to bear this alone."
I almost smile. "You keep saying that."
"Because it's true."
The stair narrows, and I have to walk close enough that my shoulder brushes his arm. The contact is small, but it anchors me — his warmth against the cold seeping from the walls.
"You think I was meant to find you?" I ask quietly.
He looks at me, his face shadowed by the flickering light. "No," he says after a moment. "I think you were meant to survive long enough to choose me."
The words steal the air from my lungs.
We stop. The silence between us stretches, charged, uncertain. His gaze drops briefly to my mouth, then back up — steady, waiting.
The bond between us hums again, soft and deep, the same rhythm that lives in the mark. My pulse matches it before I can stop it.
"I don't even know who I am anymore," I admit.
"Maybe that's the point," he says. "You're not who the mark wants you to be. You're who you decide to become."
I don't answer. Instead, I let the distance between us collapse just enough that I can feel his breath against my skin — warm, grounding, real.
For a moment, the realm fades. The whispers hush. There's only us, the faint shimmer of light on his jaw, the tremor in my hands as he reaches up and brushes a strand of hair from my face.
"Nyra," he whispers, voice rough, "whatever waits below—"
"I'll face it," I cut in. "But not tonight."
Something flickers in his eyes — understanding, maybe relief. His hand lingers against my cheek a second longer before he pulls away.
We descend again.
The deeper we go, the more the air hums. The whispers grow louder now, shaping themselves into something almost like words. The light shifts from amber to deep gold, reflecting against the walls — and for the first time, I realize the faces carved into them aren't strangers.
They're mine.
Dozens of them, each with a different expression — rage, grief, defiance. My past selves staring back at me through time.
Kael reaches for my hand without speaking, his grip sure, grounding me again before I can break.
The mark flares once more.
And below us, something moves.