Cold.

  The first thing Selene felt was the damp chill of stone, the smell of wet earth and rust filling her lungs.

  Then warmth.

  It came suddenly, the gentle comfort of a brazier’s glow against canvas walls replacing the dungeon’s decay.

  She was in Eldric's tent.

  The realization came slowly, dream-soft and uncertain. Around her, everything was exactly as it had been before the fire.

  Corvan sat across from her, gesturing animatedly with a glass bottles as he explained a theory about the chamber they’d discovered.

  “…and if the proportions hold true to the pattern we’ve seen in the upper corridors, then the chamber below should be significantly larger than we initially calculated. That means—”

  He paused, noticing her staring. “Selene? You alright?”

  Beside him, Selis laughed softly, that quiet, genuine sound she made when Corvan got lost in his theories. Her blue eyes were clear and unmarked. No blood tears. Just Selis.

  Selene’s breath hesitated. Her hand moved to her face, expecting Aldric’s features, his black hair. Instead, she found familiar honey-gold strands. She looked down at her hands—her own, smooth and young.

  She was herself again. As she had been before the Vault. Before the sword. Before everything.

  "I'm..." Her voice trembled. "I'm fine. Just—tired, I think."

  The tent flap opened, bringing a gust of cool night air.

  Thena ducked inside, her dark hair windswept, amber eyes bright behind her spectacles. “Sorry we’re late! Father insisted on checking his calculations one more time before—” She paused, glancing behind her. “Are you coming, or are you going to stand out there all night?”

  Aldric stepped through a moment later, looking mildly embarrassed. "I wasn't standing, I was observing the nebula's current phase."

  “You always do this,” Thena said warmly, moving to find a seat. She found Selene’s eye. “He does this every time. ‘Just one more measurement, Thena. Just one more notation.’ I swear, if I let him, he’d spend the entire night outside.”

  Aldric settled into a corner, already pulling out a small scroll. "The stars don't wait for social convenience."

  "Neither does bottle," Corvan interjected, raising his glass bottle. "And unlike the stars, this actually improves the evening."

  Laughter rippled through the tent. Selene found herself smiling despite everything.

  Thena sat beside her. “You sure you’re alright? You’ve been quiet.”

  Selene's gaze drifted across the tent, taking in each face. Thena, warm and alive. Aldric, absorbed in his notes. Corvan and Selis, sitting close enough that their knees almost touched. And there—

  Eldric.

  He sat, his silver beard catching the lamplight, sharp gray eyes watching her over the rim of his spectacles with that particular expression of patient concern.

  “Old Owl,” she whispered.

  His lips quirked slightly at the nickname. “Still here, my dear. Though I suspect I won’t be ‘old’ for much longer at the rate you keep worrying about me.”

  The others continued their conversation around them, Corvan explaining something about the vault, Selis listening with that gentle smile, Thena laughing at Eldric’s dry commentary, but Selene couldn’t look away from Eldric.

  “I need to tell you something,” she said quietly.

  Eldric set down his cup, giving her his full attention. "I'm listening."

  The words came in a rush. "The sword—the one in the Vault—it spoke to me. After everything. After I..." She swallowed hard. "It said all of this was fate. That from the moment of my birth, every step led to that chamber. Every choice. It said it was all already written."

  Around them, the others continued talking, their voices a comfortable murmur. But Eldric's focus remained fixed on her, his expression thoughtful.

  "And what do you think?" he asked softly.

  "I—" Selene looked down at her hands again. "I don't know. It felt true. Like something inevitable that I couldn't have escaped even if I'd tried."

  "Perhaps it was inevitable that you would find that sword," Eldric said slowly, each word measured with care. "That doesn't mean the choices you make with that it are predetermined."

  He leaned forward slightly, lamplight catching in his eyes. "Fate may have put that sword in your hand, Selene. But what you do with it—how you wield it, whether you let it consume you or whether you master it—that is entirely your choice."

  Something loosened in Selene’s chest. Her hand moved unconsciously to where the pocket watch should have rested.

  "You really think so?"

  "I think," Eldric said gently, "that you were always meant to find something extraordinary. You've had that quality since you were a child—this restless hunger to understand, to discover. Perhaps fate knew that about you." His voice softened further. "But fate cannot dictate your character. Only you can do that."

  Selene wanted to respond, to ask more, to hold onto this moment—

  Everything stopped.

  Not stopped like time freezing, but stopped like a painting suddenly remembering it was only paint on canvas. Corvan’s hand halted mid-gesture, the bottle tilted at an impossible angle. Selis’s smile remained fixed on her face. Thena’s laugh died half-formed in her throat. Aldric’s froze lookin at his scroll.

  But they were still breathing. Selene could see the subtle rise and fall of their chests, the slight flutter of Thena’s eyelashes. Alive but motionless, like statues learning to draw breath.

  Only Eldric remained as he was. Even he had gone still, his eyes locked on hers with an expression of quiet understanding, as if he had known this moment would come.

  The temperature in the tent shifted.

  Behind Corvan’s still form, blood began seeping up from the ground, dark crimson pooling impossibly on the tent floor, defying gravity as it rose. It coalesced into a shape Selene recognized with sick dread.

  It wore the form she’d seen in the Vault, tall and luminous, with skin like polished alabaster and silver hair. But the eyes. Gods, the eyes. They glowed with molten light, ancient and pitiless.

  “Ah, how sweet.” Its voice carried ancient harmonics, yet the tone was casual, almost bored. “The little vessel and her keeper. Playing at philosophy, are we? Choice and character?” A soft laugh followed. “Adorable.” It moved closer.

  "Stay away from them," Selene said.

  "Them?" The entity tilted its head, amused. "These echoes? These fading memories?" It waved a dismissive hand. "They can't hear you, little mind. Can't save you. This is my domain—the space where your consciousness drowns." Another soft laugh. "Just you and me now."

  It stopped beside Thena's motionless form, studying her with mild interest. "This one... her father's blood was particularly rich, wasn't it? All that knowledge, all those years of study." The entity's lips curved. "You wore his face so well. Tell me—did you enjoy the taste?"

  “Step away from her!” Selene gasped.

  The entity shifted to stand near Corvan. "This one believed in patterns. In logic. How disappointed he'd be to know there's no pattern to death—just appetite." It sounded genuinely entertained. "Though I suppose he did learn that, in the end. When the flames took him."

  Selene lurched to her feet, but her legs felt wrong, dream-weak and uncertain. "Stop it!"

  "Make me." The entity moved to Selis now, reaching out to almost—almost—touch her frozen face. "Oh, this one's interesting. So much faith. So much... potential."

  It turned back to Selene, and its smile was lazy, confident. "You wanted to understand the inevitable? Here—let me show you something fun."

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  The entity raised one hand with casual grace.

  Thena burst into flames.

  Not the wild, twisting fire Selene had briefly witnessed in the ruins. This was different, quiet, almost gentle. Blue-white flames that didn’t crackle or roar, just consumed. They spread across Thena’s frozen form like water finding its level.

  "No!" Selene tried to move, but her body wouldn't obey.

  “She feels all of it, you know.” The presence’s tone was conversational, like discussing the weather. “Every nerve, every moment. Frozen outside, screaming inside.” A pause. “Watch—this is my favourite part.”

  Tears began streaming down Thena’s frozen face, her body unable to move, unable to scream, her eyes wide with agony. The flames consumed her while she could only weep, trapped in her own burning flesh.

  "Beautiful, isn't it? The honesty of suffering."

  Aldric ignited next. Then Corvan. One by one, the frozen figures began to burn, their bodies wrapped in that silent, terrible fire. And because they couldn’t move, couldn’t even close their eyes, they just stood there, breathing steadily while flames ate them from the outside in.

  Selis was the last. Her blue eyes remained fixed on Corvan’s burning form, that gentle smile still frozen on her lips.

  "This is what you are now," the entity said, stretching lazily. "Death and endings. The tide that drowns all shores." It yawned. "Fighting it is so... tedious."

  “You’re doing this!” Selene’s voice broke. “Not me—you!”

  “Is there a difference anymore?” It moved closer, flames reflecting in its molten eyes. “You picked up the sword. You drank the blood. You opened the door I’d been knocking on for thousands of years.” It leaned in, voice dropping to an intimate whisper. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

  The flames spread to the tent now. Canvas caught fire, the smell of burning fabric permeating the air. The walls began to blacken and curl, edges glowing orange as the fire consumed them hungrily.

  "Though..." The entity's voice shifted, taking on a note of genuine irritation. "That fucking sword. That…. crystall." It began circling her. "When you pushed me back—I felt it helping you. Why?"

  It stopped, eyes narrowing. "I know what's trapped in there. The Original Blood, the first essence. We should be aligned. Should be..." A pause, then quieter, dangerous: "But it protects you instead. Keeps your pathetic humanity breathing when it should be drowning."

  Her expression darkened. "I don't like mysteries. Don't like not knowing." A soft, unpleasant laugh. "That blood crystal should yield to me. But… I can't quite see. And that— that pisses me off."

  The tent walls collapsed outward in sheets of flame. Canvas dissolved into ash. And beyond—

  The ruins.

  They stood now in the burned camp itself. The tent was gone, but the burning figures remained: Thena, Aldric, Corvan, Selis—all wreathed in blue-white fire, all frozen mid-breath. Around them spread the scorched earth, the collapsed tents, the craters and bodies, exactly as Selene had left them.

  The Emberveil Nebula pulsed overhead, painting everything in shifting hues.

  The divine blood gestured at the devastation with casual pride. "Better, isn't it? None of that cosy lamplight nonsense. Just truth—ash and silence and the end of fragile things." It turned to her, head tilted. "This is our kingdom now, little vessel."

  It moved closer to Selene, flames from the burning figures casting dancing shadows across its perfect features. "That sword might let you play at being human a bit longer. Your little trinkets, your precious memories..." The entity reached out, not touching, just hovering near Selene's chest.

  "They're just delays, you know. “I’m fucking inevitable." Its voice dropped to something almost gentle, almost mocking. "I always wins. Always."

  Around them, the burning figures began to move.

  Thena took a step forward, then another, her body jerking with unnatural motion. Flames dripped from her like water, leaving trails of fire in the ash. Her feet seared the ground with each step, melting. Aldric lurched upright from where he’d been sitting, his scroll burning in his hands, curling to ash as he walked. Where his boots touched the earth, the ground blackened and cracked. Corvan and Selis rose together, their burning forms moving in perfect synchronisation, leaving twin trails of scorched ground in their wake.

  All four converged, circling Selene. The heat intensified with each rotation. The ground beneath their feet hissed like water on hot iron. Each footfall rang out, a terrible chiming as molten earth cooled and shattered, only to melt again. A ring of fire formed around her, growing tighter with every pass.

  The divine blood threw its head back and laughed, not with malice but with genuine delight, like a child watching ants scatter. The flames pulsed with each note, flaring brighter, reaching higher. “Yes! Now you’re getting it! This is what we do! This is what we are!” The laughter grew louder, more layered. “Isn’t that liberating? No more pretending to care!”

  The circle tightened. Flames rose higher. The burning figures moved faster, their feet carving channels of molten earth, the heat building until the air itself seemed to scream.

  In the centre of it all, untouched by flame, Eldric remained seated exactly as he'd been in the tent. His sharp eyes watched Selene with patient understanding.

  "Selene," he said quietly, his voice somehow cutting through the roar of flames and the figure laughter.

  She turned to him, desperate, terrified.

  He smiled gently.

  "Wake up."

  His mouth opened wider—too wide, impossibly wide—and black smoke poured out, a torrent, a flood of darkness that rushed toward her like a living thing.

  The smoke engulfed her, cold and thick, tasting of endings and ash and something older than memory.

  The laughter stopped.

  The flames vanished.

  And Selene’s eyes snapped open.

  She gasped, ragged breaths that wouldn’t quite fill her lungs. Her heart hammered against her ribs, the nightmare still clinging to her like smoke. Burning figures. Thena’s frozen scream. Eldric’s mouth opening impossibly wide, black smoke pouring out.

  She forced herself to breathe slower, deeper, feeling the cold stone of the cell pressing against her back. The dungeon’s darkness had diluted now, mixed with orange light from the high window as dawn broke over Veilmouth.

  The dream faded, but something else remained.

  Her hands burned.

  She jerked upright with another gasp, Aldric's body moving quickly, and stared down at her palms.

  Flames danced across her fingers. But not normal fire. Wild colours twisted through the blaze, violet bleeding into searing green, then flashing white-hot before cycling back. It was the fire of the skeletal figures, whose blood she'd consumed.

  She shook her hands frantically, trying to extinguish them. The flames guttered, dimmed, then flared brighter in response to her panic.

  "Out, out, out—" she hissed through Aldric's teeth.

  The fire obeyed.

  It vanished as suddenly as it had appeared, leaving her palms unmarked. No burns. Just Aldric's hands, completely untouched.

  Selene stared at them, breathing hard.

  The fire hadn't hurt her. Not even slightly. She'd felt its heat, felt it dancing across her skin, but it had been... comfortable. Natural. Like wearing gloves made of living flame.

  She flexed her fingers experimentally. Normal. Ordinary. Human.

  Then she noticed something else.

  The pain was gone.

  Her hand—his hand—moved to Aldric's ankle. The one that had been twisted, swollen. She pressed carefully, testing.

  Nothing.

  She stood slowly, weight shifting onto the formerly injured ankle. It held perfectly. No sharp stabs of pain, no weakness, no grinding sensation of bone against bone.

  Her other hand moved to her torso. Through Aldric's coat, she could feel smooth skin beneath. The burns were gone.

  She pulled aside the collar of his shirt, peering down at what had been charred, blistered tissue.

  Healed. Completely. As if the fire had never touched him.

  "What..." she whispered.

  She looked down at herself. The veil had adjusted, mimicking Aldric’s attire. But unlike before, when it had replicated even the burned patches and tears, now the fabric looked pristine. New. As if the damage had never existed.

  She looked around the cell properly. The high window admitting orange light. The rusted iron door.

  And the empty space.

  Selene instantly thought, Wait, where is Selis?

  Somewhere above, footsteps echoed—distant but growing closer. A guard’s routine patrol, perhaps.

  Selene's eyes fixed on the cell door. Ancient iron, eaten through with rust. The bars thick but corroded, oxidation spreading like disease.

  The fire. She could use the fire.

  But how had she summoned it before? It had just appeared when she woke. Uncontrolled. Panicked.

  “The blood will show you the way.”

  The sword’s words echoed in her mind. The blood—she’d consumed it, taken their essence into herself. Their memories were there, buried beneath her own thoughts. She just had to remember.

  She closed her eyes, focusing inward. Feeling for that foreign presence, that flame that didn't belong to her but lived in her veins now.

  Her heart beat faster. And with each pulse, she felt it—heat moving through her blood, answering some ancient call she didn't fully understand.

  How did they do it? How did they make the fire bend?

  The memory surfaced, scattered—not her memory, but theirs. The sensation of willing heat into existence, of letting it flow from blood to flesh to air. Not commanding it. Not forcing it. Just… allowing it to be.

  Selene opened her eyes and looked at her palms.

  Burn.

  Her heart pounded once, hard.

  Flames erupted across her hands, like her veins remembered something her mind had forgotten. The fire emerged from beneath her skin, through it and around it, as natural as breathing.

  Violet and green twisted through the blaze, hot enough that the air shimmered. The veil’s fabric didn’t even singe, as if it recognised the flame and welcomed it. Another mystery. Another question she had no time to answer.

  The footsteps above grew louder.

  Selene moved to the cell door with haste.

  She'd seen blacksmiths heat iron until it glowed, then bend it whilst soft. The bars were already weakened by rust. If she could heat them enough...

  She wrapped both burning hands around one of the iron bars.

  The metal screamed. Rust flakes fell away like mottled lava. Beneath the corrosion, the iron began to glow—red, then orange, then white.

  Selene pulled. Her muscles tightened.

  The bar resisted at first, ancient iron groaning in protest. Aldric’s muscles strained—older, unfamiliar, not as strong as her divine form had been. Sweat beaded on her forehead despite the flames. She gritted her teeth and pulled harder, feeling the metal finally begin to give.

  It bent. Just slightly, but it moved.

  She shifted to the next bar. Her hands blazed hotter, the flames shifting to searing white. This bar was more corroded, weaker. It bent more easily, the gap widening.

  The footsteps stopped directly above her cell.

  Selene went still, flames dancing around her hands. If the guard came down to check…

  A long moment passed. Then the footsteps continued on, fading into the distance.

  She released a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding and pulled harder. The gap widened just enough for Aldric’s frame to squeeze through.

  Finally, she released the fire. The flames vanished, leaving her palms clean. The bars glowed faintly orange, ticking softly as they cooled.

  She squeezed through the gap, Aldric's coat catching briefly before pulling free.

  She was out.

  The dungeon corridor stretched before her, narrow and dark, lined with cells. To her left, stone stairs led upward toward the manor. Perhaps toward Selis.

  To her right, the corridor ended in shadow. But something called to her from that direction, not a sound but a feeling. A pull, deep and ancient, like the same pull from the well on the day the clock tower failed.

  The pull grew stronger, almost familiar, as if something down there knew her name.

  She could leave now. Slip away through whatever passage waited in the dark. Escape into Veilmouth. Disappear before the Baron even knew she was gone.

  The blood's voice echoed in her mind, lazy and amused: "This is what you are now. Death and endings."

  Selis was somewhere above. Alone.

  Selene stood still between the two paths

  “I always win,” the blood within had said with that casual certainty. “Always.”

  "No," Selene whispered to the darkness. To the voice in her blood. To the fate that claimed her choices were already written.

  “You don’t get to define me.”

  Her hand moved to where the pocket watch lay hidden. Its steady ticking, Eldric’s gift and her anchor, reminded her who she chose to be.

  She turned toward the stairs.