The fire, the walls, the braziers, all of it was gone. Even Serel’s presence—clutched tightly in Vera’s arms—felt farther away than it should have.

  There was no floor beneath them, only a pale expanse stretching endlessly, dull and matte like clay left to dry. It was marked faintly by grooves that resembled veins or roots or maybe even scars, but none of them really felt corporeal, like they were standing on nothingness.

  Vera had no idea where they were.

  Above, something shifted. Folds of heavy shadow peeled back just enough to reveal a sky without stars—stitched instead with hundreds upon hundreds of thread-bound hands like a vast tapestry pulled across the void. They swam slowly through the darkness, some turning as though to glance downward.

  A low, almost imperceptible thrum rippled through the ground that wasn’t ground.

  Vera looked at the girl in her arms.

  Serel was staring straight ahead.

  There, far off in the distance, was a shape. A tiny structure.

  Vera freed one hand and summoned Stillwake into her grasp. The halberd answered her call, but when she tried to shape Mark of Hollow Reach, she found that the space itself refused to give way to the weapon’s blade.

  She’d never encountered that before.

  Frowning, she let Resonance spool through her veins, cinders sparking through her body as the sigils on Stillwake flared. Finally, a seam began to tear open, Hollow hands clawing at the edges of reality. But the effort dragged far more power from her than it felt like it should.

  She thought she might be able to force it open, but she wasn’t sure she’d stay standing afterward.

  She exhaled slowly, lowering Stillwake. That would have to be the last resort, then.

  Mark of the Stillbound Veil.

  At least she could confirm that there was nothing living nearby. Or at least nothing she could detect. That wasn’t necessarily a guarantee, though.

  Her Vaultring shimmered as she pulled out several phials and elixirs, drinking them one after another just in case. She also pre-cast a Hollow Mercy and Ashen Slip Mark in her Mythic Ring, Silent Concord. She might not have the time to swap her loadout, but she could at least make some preparations.

  Her gaze narrowed on the distant shape. It was a building, from the looks of it. Simple, made of stone, and windowless. Standing alone in the nothing.

  “Serel, stay close to me, okay?” she said.

  There was no response.

  “Serel?”

  She looked down again. The girl was staring forward.

  For a heartbeat, Vera’s chest clenched.

  She stepped in front of her, blocking the view, and found her eyes glassed over, as though fixed on something beyond this place. Vera grabbed her shoulder, shaking it lightly. “Serel. Can you hear me?”

  There was no reaction at first. A sharp, biting panic swelled up inside Vera, replaced by a great wave of relief when Serel blinked, and the focus returned. The girl’s gaze turned to her slowly, confusion flickering there. “Mommy…? What’s wrong?”

  “Serel, what did you just do?” Vera asked, having to fight to keep her voice even. She hadn’t felt that kind of panic even when she’d woken up in this world and first learned about Serel.

  A faint furrow crossed the girl’s brow. “I… don’t know.”

  “Did you… see something?” Vera asked.

  Serel looked around them, seeming to only now register their surroundings, and fear began to pull at her face.

  Vera was silent for several long, tense moments, studying her. Then she turned back toward the lone building. The stitched sky shifted above them, those thread-bound hands restless and watching.

  Whatever this place was—whatever the rite had dragged them into—she wouldn’t let it play games with them, if that was its purpose. But neither did she think it was a good idea to tear it apart blind. She was worried this space might have an effect on the girl, and if so, she wanted to know more before acting rashly.

  She took Serel’s hand again, gripping it tightly. “Don’t let go, no matter what happens. Alright?”

  Several seconds passed without an answer, but as Vera squeezed the hand, the girl eventually nodded slowly. Even then, her eyes kept drifting upward toward the stitched-dark sky.

  “Hey.” Vera dismissed Stillwake and knelt in front of her, snapping her fingers to pull Serel’s gaze back down. “Just focus on me, okay? Literal gods could show up here, and still I wouldn’t let them touch you. You don’t need to worry. You don’t even need to be brave. Just trust me and do what I say. Can you do that?”

  The girl hesitated. The pause stoked something hot and angry inside Vera—an acute, protective fire at the thought of Serel being dragged here because of her. But she forced it down, doing what she could to lock it away and keep her anger in check.

  Finally, Serel gave another small nod. “Mm. I can, Mommy.”

  Vera felt her small hand tighten inside her own, the pressure firming with the words.

  “Good girl.” She patted her head, then resummoned Stillwake as she rose. Her eyes locked on the lone stone building ahead.

  That was the only anchor in this emptiness. If there were answers, they’d likely be inside.

  She started forward, pulling Serel gently along. Each step felt weird, like walking on air that only reluctantly kept them afloat, but sooner than felt reasonable, they were standing before the building.

  Vera studied it for a long moment, circling her eyes over the stone, before finally setting her hand against the single door in its face. She pushed slowly, carefully—glancing down at Serel’s expression—then stepped across the threshold.

  The interior was larger than the outside would have indicated, but there was still a sense of claustrophobia inside. The floor was the same incorporeal texture as the expanse outside, and within, there were only two things.

  The first was a cradle. Suspended by a chain, it swayed gently in some unseen current, and the sight of it stirred something unprodded in Vera. A strange, twisting sense of betrayal that didn’t belong to her, but sank deep all the same.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  The second was a door. It stood in the center of the chamber, freestanding, sealed shut with gauze-like drapings and strands of what might have been umbilical cords.

  It was an unsettling sight. But it told her enough. It gave her a notion of what was responsible for drawing them to this place, even if she didn’t know how or why.

  Her gaze moved back and forth between cradle and door, then Serel pulled her attention.

  The girl’s eyes were locked on the door, head tilting slightly as if listening to something Vera couldn’t hear. Then her foot slid forward. Another step followed.

  Vera immediately pulled her back. “Serel. Stop.”

  Again, the girl didn’t answer. She strained against Vera’s grip, legs trying to carry her forward as if she were sleepwalking.

  Vera stepped directly in front of her, blocking her view. “Serel. Look at me. Listen.”

  Still nothing.

  The girl did blink, but her eyes were vacant, glassy, unfocused—sliding past Vera like she wasn’t even there. One small hand even lifted toward the air, fingers stretching outward as though reaching for something just beyond her grasp.

  The anger Vera had been holding back cracked through as her patience with this place frayed.

  Screw it.

  She clenched her teeth, pulling the girl back a step, then faced the door. If something behind that thing was calling Serel forward, Vera could end it now. Stillwake’s sigils blazed alive along the weapon’s blade.

  She raised it.

  And then the air shifted. Not from her.

  It started as a low tremor rippling through the room. The cradle swayed harder on its chains. The stone walls quivered. The sealed door groaned.

  The temperature surged.

  Beneath their feet, a crimson fissure spread across the pale nothingness like a giant wound, glowing through cracks. Suddenly, the entire building began to come apart, the walls peeling, dissolving into drifting ash. The cradle vanished next, chains breaking like smoke. The door resisted the longest, its drapings writhing as though clinging to existence, but even it finally unraveled.

  Above, the false sky shuddered. The black threads and swarming hands convulsed, twisting apart and retracting like veins of burnt paper. And behind them, hidden in the darkness, Vera thought she caught the faint curve of something vast and round. A sun, but not a sun. Black as the void around it, indistinguishable except for the way it appeared to blot out even the shadows.

  As she lowered her gaze, stretching across the horizon, she saw a colossal shape burning. A pyre so immense it could barely be put into words, a quiet fire that washed over the endless space and scoured it clean. It burned with an authority that brooked few trespassers.

  Vera pulled Serel close to her.

  They were left standing bare beneath that distant, smoldering presence. Its flame almost seemed to look at them, warm and watching. Vera met it, and for just a heartbeat, there was something more there. Like half an acknowledgment.

  And then it was over.

  They were back in the Emberward Reliquary.

  Serel stumbled, and Vera steadied her, holding on. The braziers were still burning, the scent of scorched stone curling faintly through the chamber.

  The old steward stood a few steps ahead, his face strained.

  Vera’s eyes swept the room as she reoriented herself. Her grip on Serel didn’t loosen. If anything, she pulled her closer, a second thread of relief settling through her as the girl hugged tight against her side, breathing fast but quiet. Though it wasn’t what her thoughts were fixed on.

  She was fairly certain of what she’d seen at the end there. It had been both the Quiet Pyre and the Wounded Sun—two aspects of House Emberward. And from the Pyre, she’d felt something like recognition. Or close to it, at least. She wasn’t sure if a presence like that could think the way a person did, but when it looked at her, there had definitely been a weight in it.

  It almost made her think of a warning.

  It had come to banish something that didn’t belong. A foreign presence that had wormed its way into its domain. And that presence had pulled Vera and Serel with it.

  As for what that presence was…

  Vera glanced down, brushing her hand through the girl’s hair, though Serel’s face was hidden in her side.

  She would need to look deeper into this.

  “What…”

  The steward’s stiff voice dragged her focus back to him. He was staring at her—and at Stillwake in her hand. She belatedly dismissed the weapon, narrowing her eyes.

  “…I’m assuming this isn’t how the rite usually plays out?” she asked.

  He blinked, faltered for a moment, then gathered himself enough to shake his head. Slowly. “No…”

  “Did the rite fail entirely, then?”

  They wouldn’t be repeating it either way.

  The man hesitated, raising his hands as his gaze flicked between Vera and Serel. “Not… necessarily.”

  His lips moved in a brief incantation, and Vera felt Resonance stir around him. Threads of it flowed into the scorched basin beneath their feet, kindling faint light across its surface. Sigils shimmered there, etched in fire.

  “It did not,” he said after a moment.

  More Resonance followed. In front of Serel, a small flame sparked to life. It flickered, wavering for just a second before splitting into eight steady tongues of fire, circling one another like petals around a core.

  The Eighth Flamebinding, presumably.

  Vera’s brows lifted. That was one higher than she’d expected.

  She looked down again, checking over Serel. The girl hadn’t noticed the flame, fingers knotted hard into Vera’s mantle as she refused to look up.

  “Serel,” Vera tried, brushing the girl’s hair back. “It’s alright. We’re back now.”

  There wasn’t any answer, though she felt a slight shaking.

  Her hand paused.

  How… did you comfort a scared kid?

  “…Eighth Binding,” she said aloud instead, looking toward the steward. “That’s high, isn’t it?”

  He seemed to blink himself back into the moment, then nodded. “Ah, yes. Yes. Exceptionally high. Especially for one so… young. I’ve never seen its like.”

  “Hear that, Serel? You’re pretty amazing.”

  The girl shifted faintly against her, though she didn’t let go.

  Vera knelt, carefully trying to pry her free. Serel didn’t resist exactly, but she didn’t let go either. Her arms tightened with a quiet desperation Vera wasn’t sure how to respond to. One hand clung to Vera’s mantle, the other curled in a small, trembling fist at her side.

  “Hey,” Vera said, one hand tracing down her back while the other tilted her chin just slightly. Tears had gathered in her eyes, a sight that struck Vera hard. “You didn’t let go, and I’m proud of that. It’s over now, and you’re safe. It’s fine to look.”

  Serel hesitated for several seconds longer.

  “Do you want to see what it looks like? Your Flamebinding?” Vera asked, pointing toward the burning sigil in the air. “It’s like a special mark. You got the Eighth Flamebinding. That’s as high as Caldrin. You can brag about it to him when we’re back home.”

  That finally earned the smallest sound from Serel—a muffled sniff as she looked up at Vera. Then, gradually, she turned toward the flame. A flicker of spark caught in her gaze.

  Vera let her watch, then looked back to the steward. “Would it have worked for me as well?”

  His expression was cautious, but he raised his hands again, murmuring another incantation. Resonance flowed into the basin. The process repeated itself. A flame sparked in front of Vera this time, flickering and wavering before splitting into ten tongues of fire that circled together in an ordered blaze.

  The Tenth Flamebinding.

  For a moment, it looked as if it would hold there. But then the flame shuddered. It warped, collapsed, and reformed into the same shape, showing the Tenth Flamebinding once more. And then it happened again. And again. The symbols kept flashing in sequence, tumbling over themselves like some confused loop, until finally the fire stuttered out altogether, leaving nothing else behind.

  The steward took a step back, eyes wide.

  Vera frowned. How was she supposed to interpret that? She’d half-expected it to simply lock at Ten, or maybe overreach and tack on a few extra signs to claim she was at the Fourteenth Binding or something like that. But this was different. Was the rite unable to register anything beyond the Tenth, and it broke when you tried, or… had it been trying to tell her she was multiple times that?

  “Are you… Cycle-Forged?” the steward breathed, barely more than a whisper.

  She looked at him. “…I am. Do you know what that means?”

  He shook his head. “This is the first time I’ve seen one with my own eyes. To think…” He caught himself, drew a steadier breath, and stood straighter. “You need not fear me speaking of what I witnessed today. I remain bound to silence. For you and for your daughter.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Mommy…”

  Vera immediately turned to Serel at the girl’s voice. Serel now looked bewildered and uncertain, her small hand uncurled to reveal something clenched tight within it.

  Vera stilled when she saw it.

  It was a locket. A locket with a silver chain and a rusted, velvet casing with dried blood marring the lining.

  “…Where did you get that?” she asked.

  “I was just… there,” Serel murmured.

  Vera took it from her hand, weighing it carefully before easing it open. Inside was a hollowed compartment, and nestled within was a tiny blade. Ornamental and delicate, it just looked like a simple heirloom trinket, nothing else.

  Why would Serel suddenly have this?

  Vera closed the locket and tucked it away into her Vaultring. “I’ll hold onto it for now,” she said, meeting the girl’s eyes. “Alright?”

  Serel bit her lip but nodded.

  Vera turned back to the steward. “Thanks for the help. We’re done here.”

  He didn’t move to stop them. He only quietly accepted it as Vera rose, pulling Serel along with her as they made to leave.