The dawn broke gray and uncertain, a ghost of light pressing through the fog. The forest was quiet again, but not in peace – only in exhaustion. Smoke still coiled from the blackened trees where the battle had been, and the ground was slick with last night's ash.
Elena walked in silence beside Adrian, her steps heavy with both fatigue and guilt. She hadn't spoken since the fire. Every breath of smoke was a reminder of what she'd unleashed, of the men she'd burned alive.
Adrian kept his distance, though she could feel the weight of his gaze each time she stumbled. His left shoulder was bound with a strip of torn cloak, the cloth already dark with blood. He, made no complaint, but his face was drawn, his movements slower than usual.
They followed a narrow deer path northward, the terrain changing from forest to broken heath. In the distance, hills rose like bruises under a pale sky.
By midday, the fog had thinned enough to reveal a shape on the horizon – low walls, a half collapsed spire, and what might once have been a watchtower.
Adrian stopped, scanning the distance. "Avern," he said quietly. "It's been abandoned for years. The Order burned it out when the war turned."
Elena frowned. "Then why go there?"
"Because ghosts don't hunt." His tone was flat. "And the Order does."
She said nothing, though her stomach twisted at the thought. The closer they drew, the heavier the air became, thick with the stink of soot and old ruin.
By the time they reached the outskirts, the wind had picked up, carrying ashes that still fell from the blackened rafters. The town was nothing but bones, stone walls hollowed by fire, streets choked with debris. The only sound was the wind through shattered windows.
Elena shivered. "No one's left?"
Adrian's eyes swept the ruins. "No one living."
They moved cautiously through the remnants of the marketplace. Burned stalls stood like gallows, their goods long rotted. A broken sign swung from its post, half-legible under layers of soot: The Flame's Blessing Inn.
Adrian pushed open the door. It creaked, threatening to tear off its hinges. Inside, dust and silence waited.
"This'll do," he murmured. "We rest here."
Elena sank onto a bench, her body trembling with exhaustion. Adrian searched the upper floor, his boots creaking on the old boards. When he returned, he carried a handful of half-burned candles and a bottle of something that might have once been wine.
He handed it to her without looking. "Drink. You'll need the warmth."
Elena uncorked it and took a tentative sip. The liquid burned her throat, sharp and sour, but it did cut through the chill.
Adrian sat across from her, his eyes fixed on the guttering candle between them. "You lost control back there," he said quietly.
She flinched. "I didn't mean to"
He raised a hand. "I know. But meaning doesn't matter when fire's involved. The Seal's alive, Elena. It feeds on will. The stronger your fear, the hungrier it gets."
Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Then how do I stop it?"
Adrian's gaze met hers tired, scarred, and utterly sincere. "You don't. You learn to chain it."
The word struck her. Chain. The same image from her visions, iron links of light binding something beneath the mountain.
Before she could ask more, a sound broke the silence. A soft scraping, like wood on stone.
Adrian rose, blade drawn. "Stay here."
The noise came from behind the counter. Elena held her breath as Adrian moved closer, his steps silent, steady. He crouched then froze.
When he stood again, his blade was still raised, but his expression had shifted from threat to confusion.
A man rose slowly from the shadows, a bent figure in tattered robes, his beard streaked white and gray, eyes milky with age. He held up his hands in surrender.
"No need for steel," the old man rasped. "If I meant harm, you'd already be ash."
Adrian didn't lower his weapon. "Who are you?"
"Once?" The man smiled faintly. "Once, I was Keeper of the Chapel of Avern. Now… I am what the fire left behind."
Elena stood. "You survived the purge?"
The man's gaze shifted toward her, and froze. "The mark," he whispered. His cloudy eyes widened. "Saints preserve us. The Seal walks again."
Adrian stepped between them. "You know of it?"
The old man nodded, trembling. "I know more than most would dare remember. Sit, both of you. The dead here don't mind company, so long as you listen."
Adrian hesitated, then slowly lowered his sword. The three of them sat in the flickering candlelight, the ruin around them breathing old ghosts.
The old man began in a low voice, hoarse and reverent. "The Crimson Seal was forged before the Church, before the Kingdoms. It was the covenant between fire and flesh. The first Bearer was not chosen by gods, but by flame itself—when the world was cold and dying."
Elena leaned forward. "What happened to them?"
"They burned," he said simply. "Every Bearer does. The Seal gives power, but it takes more than it gives. Blood, memory, even the soul. When the First Flame whispers, it promises salvation, but it hungers for dominion."
Adrian's jaw tightened. "The Inquisition claims it's a mark of heresy."
"They claim what they fear," the old man said, voice hardening. "The truth? The Seal was meant to protect the world from what lies beneath it."
Elena frowned. "Beneath?"
The old man's gaze turned distant. "The Shadowbound. When the First Flame rose, it cast darkness behind it. Those shadows took form, and they fed on what the light left behind—hope, warmth, life itself. The Seal was a barrier. But the barrier is weakening."
A chill ran through the room.
Adrian glanced at the door. "We should go. If the Order finds you here"
"They already have," the old man interrupted softly. "They always return to the places they've burned."
Elena turned sharply. "What do you mean?"
The old man smiled sadly. "Look outside."
Adrian moved to the window. His hand froze on the sill. "By the gods…"
Elena joined him and felt her blood turn to ice.
Figures stood in the street. Dozens of them. Pale cloaks glimmering faintly in the gloom. The Inquisition.
Adrian cursed under his breath. "They followed our trail."
The old man rose, his movements strangely calm. "No. They were drawn here. By the Seal. By you."
Elena backed away, panic rising. "We can fight"
"Not this time," Adrian cut her off. "We run."
But as he turned toward the back door, the air itself seemed to thicken. The candle flame shuddered, then died.
And something moved in the darkness outside, something not human.
A low whisper crawled through the walls, colder than the grave. The old man's eyes widened in terror. "No… not them. Not here."
"Elena," Adrian hissed, sword raised. "Stay behind me."
Shapes slid between the Inquisitors, shadows within shadows. Where they passed, torches went out. Men screamed, but no sound lasted long.
The old man stumbled back, clutching a pendant around his neck. "The Shadowbound. They've breached the Seal's protection."
Elena's mark flared violently, casting crimson light across the ruined inn. The shadows recoiled, hissing.
Adrian grabbed her arm. "Move!"
They burst out the back, into an alley choked with rubble. Behind them, the inn collapsed under some unseen force. Screams echoed, then were silenced one by one.
Elena's pulse pounded in her ears. The mark burned brighter, spilling light with every heartbeat. "They're following the Seal!"
Adrian didn't answer. He dragged her toward the northern wall, his wounded shoulder streaked with fresh blood. The gate ahead was blocked with fallen stone.
He cursed. "We'll have to climb."
Before they could move, a scream split the night—followed by a figure staggering from the smoke. It was one of the Inquisitors, his cloak half-burned, his eyes wild. "They're everywhere! The dark eats the light—" His voice cut off as something dragged him backward, into the shadows.
Adrian turned to Elena, face set. "Now."
They scrambled up the wall, stones shifting under their hands. The heat of pursuit was behind them - whispers, faint but growing.
At the top, Elena paused, glancing back. The town was a sea of fire and darkness. Where the shadows touched flame, the light dimmed, devoured.
Then, in the center of it all, she saw him, the old man, standing in the street, his pendant blazing like a star. The shadows swarmed him, but his voice rang out across the ruins, clear and defiant:
"Flame remember me!"
A burst of white fire erupted, blinding them both.
When the light faded, Avern was gone. Only a smoldering crater remained.
They didn't stop running until dawn broke again, far beyond the hills. Adrian collapsed beneath a dead oak, gasping. Elena fell beside him, trembling.
The Seal on her arm had dimmed again, but she could still feel it restless, whispering.
Adrian leaned his head back against the tree. "That wasn't the Order."
"No," she whispered. "It was worse."
"So it wasn't the order who attack my house" she asked.
He shook his head "it was, the ashen ones are trained by the Order"
Silence hung between them. The morning light touched the distant peaks, black mountains crowned with mist.
Adrian followed her gaze. "That's where it's leading us?"
"Yes," she said softly. "To the mountain in my vision."
He nodded once, grimly. "Then we keep moving."
But neither of them spoke again for a long time. The world felt emptier now, and somewhere in the distance, the faint whisper of the Seal seemed to murmur
One flame extinguished. Another must rise.