(POV: Nyra)
The world reformed around me like breath caught in a lung.
At first, there was only the hum — low and steady, like a heartbeat beneath stone. Then came the color. Not red. Not gold. Something deeper. A spectrum that lived between blood and flame, pulsing in the air like liquid light.
I lay still, waiting for pain, but it didn't come. Only warmth, and a strange sense of being… known. As if the realm itself recognized me.
When I opened my eyes, I wasn't in Kaelith anymore.
The air shimmered with dust that glowed faintly when I moved. The ground was dark glass veined with threads of light, and above me hung a sky with no horizon — a thousand mirrored fragments suspended in nothingness. Each reflected something different: forests, fire, faces I half remembered.
I rose slowly. My reflection stared back at me from every surface, hundreds of Nyra's, each slightly wrong. In one, my eyes glowed brighter. In another, my hair burned like coal. And in the largest fragment, the reflection smiled, even though I hadn't.
It felt like walking through memory and prophecy all at once.
The hum beneath my feet deepened, resonating with my pulse. The Blood Mark burned faintly beneath my skin — not painful, but expectant, like a door waiting to be opened.
Then the voice came.
Not from behind me. Not from above. From within.
"Do you understand what you carry now?"
I froze. "Show yourself."
A flicker of light bled from one of the mirrored shards ahead, spreading into form — a figure stepping out of its reflection, each motion rippling like water disturbed. Tall. Cloaked. Familiar.
"You called me," I said. "Why?"
The Summoner didn't answer immediately. When it spoke, the voice was layered — many voices, all perfectly calm. "Because you bear the first flame and the last wound. Because you woke what the rest of us forgot."
The mirrored sky shifted above, revealing a glimpse of Kael — kneeling in the clearing, the light dying around him. I reached toward it instinctively, but my hand met only cold air.
"You took me from him."
"No," the Summoner said softly. "He gave you to the fire the moment he touched it. You belong to what burns."
Something inside me flared — anger, defiance, fear, I couldn't tell. "I don't belong to anyone."
The cloaked figure tilted its head. "Then why do you still wear the mark?"
I looked down. The crimson sigil across my wrist had spread — thin branches of light tracing my veins, curling up my forearm like roots sinking inward. I hadn't felt it until now.
It was beautiful. Terrifying. Alive.
"What do you want from me?"
"Not want," the Summoner said. "Recognition."
The light around us darkened. Shadows poured from the broken mirrors, taking shape — half-formed bodies, eyes of flame, mouths of silence. They circled me like ghosts drawn to warmth.
"These," it said, "are those who bore the Blood Mark before you. Each burned a little brighter. Each died a little sooner."
The ghosts didn't move closer. They just watched, their faces shifting between pain and reverence.
"Why show me this?"
"Because soon, they will call you their queen."
The words struck harder than flame ever could.
"I didn't ask for this," I whispered.
"No one does. The blood remembers. The fire simply obeys."
The mirrors above began to splinter again, their light trembling as the realm shuddered around us. I felt the pull in my chest — the bond — stretching across worlds. Kael.
He was alive. Searching.
The Summoner's gaze followed mine. "He comes for you."
"Then he'll find me."
"He will try." A faint smile ghosted through the voice. "But when he does, he will not find the girl he lost."
The ground beneath me cracked open — crimson light spilling through, bright enough to sear the air.
"Because when next he sees you," the Summoner said, "you will have become what the Blood demands."
The floor gave way.
And as I fell through the light, I didn't scream.
I breathed.