The frost on the window was not natural.
It pulsed softly in the silence, the spiral-shaped third seal scorched into the ice where the Grey Watcher had stood. Its edges shimmered faintly, as though whispering some unfinished command.
Elira didn't touch it.
She didn't need to.
Her magic recoiled just standing near it — not in fear, but in recognition.
She'd never seen that sigil before.
But her blood had.
Tovin stirred in his sleep again, muttering words in the same foreign cadence. She couldn't understand it — not yet — but it was beginning to sound almost ritualistic.
Her fingers twitched near her dagger.
Something was happening to him.
To both of them.
Downstairs, Sorienne sat by the hearth, the mug in her hand untouched.
"You need to leave," she said without looking up.
Elira stepped down slowly. "Because of the seal?"
"No. Because of what followed it."
An hour earlier, the village well had cracked.
Two goats were found burned from the inside.
An infant wouldn't stop crying — not even to breathe.
And a hunter was dragged from the woods, eyes black as tar, mouth repeating one word:
"Watcher."
No one connected it yet.
But they would.
And they'd look to Elira.
"The seal didn't just appear," Sorienne said, standing. "It awakened something."
"Then help me contain it," Elira snapped.
"Child," Sorienne said softly, "this isn't a matter of control. You've already stepped too close."
"Then explain it. Why is it following me?"
Sorienne met her gaze. "Because you were its vessel once. Maybe still are."
Elira went still.
"You said I'm cursed. By my mother."
"You are."
"But I don't remember it."
"You weren't supposed to."
Sorienne moved closer, expression calm but unreadable.
"Three warnings, Elira. Listen well."
"One: Leave by sunset. The seal won't stay quiet."
"Two: The boy is more than an orphan. He's your mirror."
"Three: If the Watcher marks you again, don't speak. Don't fight. Don't look into its eyes."
Elira's voice was tight. "Why?"
"Because the part of you that still belongs to it might answer."
*
Tovin cried out upstairs.
Elira turned, magic flaring—only to find him waking, clutching his head.
"She said my name," he whispered. "The fire woman. She said I was early."
Elira's heart pounded. "What else?"
"She said I came before the fourth mark. And before… the choosing."
Northern Ridge
The wind scoured the snow-blasted hill where Caelum stood, cloak unmoving, gaze fixed on the distant village.
Vireya joined him silently, a scroll in her hand bearing a charred seal — a sigil of the Order of the Pale Flame.
"They're already moving," she said.
Caelum didn't blink. "Too soon."
"She's seen the third mark."
"I know."
"They'll sense it."
He turned finally. "Let them. I want to see how far they're willing to reach."
Vireya's voice dropped. "And if they reach her?"
Caelum looked back toward Veildusk. "Then they'll learn why she was sealed in the first place."
**
Elira
**
They left Veildusk just before sunset.
She didn't look back.
Not when smoke began rising from the direction of the chapel.
Not when the village bell rang frantically — then stopped too soon.
Not even when Tovin whispered, "Something's still watching."
Because he was right.
And it wasn't just watching.
It was waiting.