The eastern ridge — dusk
The summons pulled harder now.
Caelum stood at the edge of a ravine, where the mist from underground rivers met sharp rock. The vampire sigil — scorched into the sky like a blood star — pulsed faintly above the horizon.
He wasn't alone.
Vireya emerged from the shadows behind him, silent as ever.
"You waited longer than I thought," she said.
"I hoped I wouldn't have to answer it."
"But now you will."
He nodded, slowly. "If I don't, they'll come looking. And if they come…"
"They'll burn everything in their path," she finished.
Caelum didn't respond right away. His gaze lingered on the trees below, where faint flickers of coven magic still echoed from Elira's arrival.
"She doesn't know what she is," he said.
"She won't thank you for hiding it."
"No," he agreed. "But she'll live long enough to decide what to do with it."
Vireya stepped closer, her voice lower now. "They might name you traitor, Caelum. The Court doesn't forget."
"I know."
"And if she's part of the true prophecy—"
"She is," Caelum cut in. "I've seen the signs. The way the seals react. The Grey Watcher wouldn't linger if she weren't."
Vireya hesitated. "Then… you might not come back."
He turned to her fully, eyes colder now. "Then make sure she does."
Ash Circle — The Lower Archives
Elira had only been to the archives once as a child — a sealed labyrinth beneath the sanctum where scrolls and artifacts were kept in silence and shadow.
Now she walked them again, this time watched closely by Vessa, who held a lantern shaped like a serpent's eye.
"No touching," Vessa warned.
"I'm not here to steal anything," Elira muttered.
"No," Vessa replied. "But the truth steals from you."
The archive was alive with whispers.
Not voices — magic memory trapped in old pages and burnt bones. As Elira passed shelves, the air grew colder.
One scroll glowed faintly when she neared it. She paused.
Its outer edge bore a symbol — one she had seen before.
Half-carved. Not the fifth seal. Not yet.
The Silent One's mark.
Her breath caught.
Vessa stepped beside her. "That scroll hasn't glowed in decades."
"What is it?"
"A record of the prophecy's first version," Vessa said slowly. "The one that was half-spoken… and then forbidden."
Elira stared at the glowing edge.
The mark pulsed — once, then faded.
They continued deeper, until they reached the chamber of burned oaths — where the Circle kept the names of witches who had broken sacred laws.
Her mother's name was there.
But beside it, scrawled in ash and magic, a line appeared:
"The key must forget, or all is undone."
Elira stepped back.
She could feel something shifting beneath all this — the first twist coiling close, though she couldn't see its face yet.
Outside the sanctum, the wind shifted.
Somewhere distant, the Grey Watcher passed beneath moonlight.
And in the vampire city far south, a throne of obsidian stirred.