SERA'S POV
I woke up to someone shaking my shoulder.
"Get up," Mnemora said. "We leave in ten minutes."
I bolted upright, heart pounding. "What? You said we had two days before—"
"Plans changed." She tossed clothes onto my bed—all black, soft fabric that wouldn't make noise. "Lord Voss moved his schedule. He's leaving tonight instead of tomorrow. If we want his memory, we go now."
My stomach dropped. I wasn't ready. I'd barely slept after finding that creepy note under my door. She knows you're alive now. Who was "she"? And how did they know where to find me?
"I can't do this," I said, my voice shaking. "I don't know how to break into a mansion. I don't know how to steal memories. I'm just—"
"You survived six months in the wastelands alone." Mnemora's eyes met mine. "You already know how to survive impossible things. This is just another impossible thing."
She was right. I'd done scarier stuff than sneaking into some rich guy's room.
I got dressed.
Ferris waited for us in the hallway, carrying a bag of strange tools. "Lady Seraphina, I must protest. You're not trained for—"
"I know," I interrupted. "But I'm doing it anyway."
His glowing blue eyes dimmed with worry, but he nodded. "Then I will guard the perimeter. If anything goes wrong, run to the garden fountain. I'll meet you there."
Mnemora led us through another shimmering portal. This time I was ready for the stomach-flipping, color-swirling trip. We landed in an alley behind a huge stone building. Music and laughter drifted from the windows above.
"Lord Voss is hosting a party," Mnemora whispered. "Perfect cover. Everyone's distracted."
She handed me a silver mask like hers. "Wear this. It hides your face and lets you see magical wards—the invisible alarms nobles use to protect their stuff."
I put it on. Immediately, thin red lines appeared across the building's walls, glowing like spiderwebs. They covered every door and window.
"Those are wards?" I breathed. "How do we get past them?"
"Carefully." Mnemora pulled out a small glass vial filled with purple liquid. "This breaks wards for exactly thirty seconds. We use it, climb through the window, find Voss's study on the third floor, steal the memory, and get out before the ward reactivates."
"That's your plan? What if something goes wrong?"
"Then we improvise." She grinned. "Ready?"
No. Absolutely not.
"Yeah," I lied.
Mnemora threw the vial at the wall. Purple smoke hissed where it hit, and the red ward-lines vanished. She grabbed my hand and pulled me toward a window. We climbed through just as the wards flickered back to life behind us.
We were in a hallway lined with paintings of important-looking dead people. Below us, party guests laughed and danced. Servants rushed past carrying trays of fancy food. Nobody looked up.
"Third floor," Mnemora whispered. "Stay quiet. Follow me."
We crept up a winding staircase. My heart hammered so loud I was sure everyone could hear it. At the third floor, Mnemora checked around a corner, then motioned me forward.
"That one." She pointed to a door at the end of the hall. "Voss's private study. The memory we need is locked in his desk."
We tiptoed to the door. Mnemora pulled out lock picks and worked on it while I watched the hallway, terrified someone would appear.
Click. The door opened.
The study was huge, filled with bookshelves and expensive furniture. A massive desk sat in the center. Mnemora went straight to it and started picking the lock on one of the drawers.
That's when I saw it.
A painting on the wall showed Duke Malachai shaking hands with Lord Voss. Both were smiling. Behind them, in the background, buildings burned.
My blood turned to ice.
"That's Rosewick," I whispered. "In the painting. That's my town burning."
Mnemora glanced up, saw my face, and cursed. "Sera, don't—"
But I was already moving toward it. How could they? How could they paint my family's death and hang it on a wall like art?
My hands clenched into fists. Heat built in my chest, spreading to my arms. The painting seemed to mock me—Malachai's smile, the casual way they stood while everything I loved turned to ash.
"Sera, we need to focus—"
I touched the painting's frame.
Fire exploded from my hands.
I screamed and jumped back, but the flames kept coming, pouring from my palms like water from a broken pipe. They spread across the painting, eating it. The heat was intense, but it didn't burn me. It felt... right. Like the fire was mine. Like I'd been holding it inside forever and it finally broke free.
"What's happening?" I yelled.
Mnemora rushed over and grabbed my wrists. Her hands glowed silver, and suddenly the fire vanished. Smoke filled the room. The painting was ash.
"I knew it," she breathed, staring at me with wide eyes. "You're one of them. You're a Flameheart."
"A what?"
"No time. We have to—"
The study door slammed open.
Guards poured in, led by a tall man in expensive clothes—Lord Voss himself. His face twisted with rage when he saw the destroyed painting.
"Thieves!" he shouted. "Seize them!"
Mnemora grabbed my hand. "Window. Now!"
We ran. Guards chased us. Mnemora threw another vial, and this one exploded into thick purple smoke. I couldn't see anything, but she pulled me forward. Glass shattered. Wind hit my face.
We were falling.
I screamed, but Mnemora's grip stayed tight. We hit something soft—an awning—and rolled off it onto a garden hedge. Thorns scratched my arms, but I didn't care. We were alive.
"Run!" Ferris appeared, his metal body gleaming in the moonlight. "This way!"
We sprinted through the garden. Behind us, guards shouted and boots thundered. We reached the fountain just as Mnemora opened another portal, its surface shimmering like water.
"Go!" she yelled.
I dove through.
We tumbled into the Palace of Forgotten Things, gasping and covered in cuts. The portal snapped shut behind us.
For a moment, nobody spoke. We just breathed.
Then Mnemora started laughing.
"That was terrible," she said. "We didn't even get the memory."
"My hands caught on fire," I said, staring at my palms. They looked normal now. "How did—"
"Because you're a Flameheart. The last one alive." Mnemora's smile faded. "And now that you've used your power, they'll know for sure you survived. Every noble with magical detection will have felt that burst of fire magic."
My stomach sank. "What does that mean?"
Before she could answer, Ferris went rigid. His eyes flashed bright blue.
"Someone approaches," he said. "Through the main entrance. Someone who knows how to find this place."
Impossible. Mnemora said nobody could find the Palace without magic.
We all turned toward the entrance hall.
The massive doors swung open.
A figure stepped through, dressed in a purple velvet coat with mismatched buttons. He had messy dark hair and eyes that seemed both amused and sad at the same time. He looked young—maybe mid-twenties—but carried himself like someone much older.
He saw us and smiled.
"Well, well," he said in a voice that was somehow both playful and dangerous. "I've been looking everywhere for the girl who just set Lord Voss's study on fire. And here you are, hiding in my dear friend Mnemora's impossible palace."
He walked closer, and I saw something in his eyes that made my breath catch.
Recognition. Like he knew me.
"You must be Seraphina Ashford," he said softly. "The dead girl who isn't quite dead. How interesting."
Mnemora stepped between us, tense. "Cassian. What are you doing here?"
"Coming to collect what's mine." His eyes never left me. "Because that fire she just created? It was made with stolen technology. My stolen technology. The same devices that burned Rosewick to the ground six months ago."
The world tilted.
This man—this stranger in the ridiculous coat—was connected to the fire that killed my family.
And he was smiling at me like we were old friends.