The storm broke as they crossed the valley.
Dark clouds rolled in with unnatural speed, blanketing the sky and casting the land in shadow. Rain fell in angry sheets, soaking Kael's cloak and dripping from the hilt of Emberlyn's sword. But neither of them slowed.
They were heading for the highlands, toward the Monastery of the Broken Flame—an ancient place hidden among jagged cliffs and winding paths. It was said to be abandoned for over a century, but Emberlyn remembered differently. In Seris's time, it had been a training ground, a sanctuary for warriors of the Flame. She hoped something still lingered there. A memory. A weapon. Or someone who remembered the oath.
By the time they reached the base of the cliffs, thunder cracked above them, echoing like drums of war.
---
Inside the monastery ruins, time had clawed through stone and wood. Vines had claimed walls, roots pushed up through the tiled floor, and shattered statues of warrior-priestesses lay in broken reverence across the courtyard. But the fire altar at the center still stood. Unburnt. Untouched.
As Emberlyn approached, the rain stopped—abruptly.
Kael scanned the ruins with tense eyes. "Why'd the storm stop so fast?"
"I think…" Emberlyn reached out to touch the altar. "It knows me."
The altar flared as her fingers met stone.
A ring of flame erupted around it—hot, bright, and contained. In the fire's reflection, shadows formed. Five ghostly figures stepped forward, armored in crimson and gold, faces veiled in smoke. One among them walked ahead of the rest. She was tall, her hair braided with flame, her eyes hollow but knowing.
Seris's past life stared back at Emberlyn.
"Daughter of flame," the shade said. "Do you remember your sisters?"
Emberlyn's voice caught in her throat. "I do."
Kael stepped back, half-drawing his sword. "What are they?"
"Echoes," Emberlyn whispered. "Remnants of vows too strong to die."
Another figure stepped forward—this one with a deeper presence. Not just an echo, but awareness. Her voice rang with command.
"You awaken the Blade, but that is not enough. The Circle has returned. Their roots are deeper now, hidden in noble courts and rotting temples. You cannot face them alone."
"I don't intend to," Emberlyn said. "That's why I came. I need allies. Knowledge. Anything you left behind."
The flame-echo stepped closer. "We left one. She never fell."
A swirl of smoke twisted into the image of a woman—dark-skinned, eyes sharp as daggers, wielding twin curved blades. Her name rang out in Emberlyn's memory like a struck bell.
"Arenya."
She had been Seris's second. Fiercest of the Vow. And during the betrayal, she vanished—neither confirmed dead nor accounted among the traitors.
The echo pointed east. "She lives. Exiled. Waiting for a sign."
The flames snapped shut.
---
Later, they found shelter beneath a collapsed tower, building a small fire as the storm returned in full force.
Kael sat across from Emberlyn, sharpening his blade in slow, even strokes.
"You think this Arenya will help?"
"She was loyal. If she remembers even a fraction of who she was, she'll be a force the Circle fears."
Kael studied Emberlyn for a long moment. "And what if she hasn't forgiven you?"
Emberlyn looked into the fire. "Then I'll have to earn her trust again. Or die trying."
Kael's voice softened. "You're not who you were, Emberlyn. You carry Seris's power, her memories—but you're something else. That makes you dangerous to them. But it also makes you unpredictable."
She nodded. "That's why I might have a chance."
Before Kael could respond, a loud crack sounded outside.
They bolted upright. A shape darted across the courtyard—tall, cloaked, impossibly fast. Then, silence.
Kael drew his bow. Emberlyn gripped her sword.
Another shape moved—closer. Then another. Shadows danced beyond the broken archway.
Emberlyn's voice was steady. "They found us."
Figures emerged—cloaked warriors in ceremonial armor, with crescent blades and branded eyes. Agents of the Circle.
Kael loosed an arrow. It hit one in the chest, but the figure kept moving, unfazed.
"Shadow-Bound," Emberlyn hissed. "They're not alive. Not entirely."
The battle erupted. Fire and steel clashed. Kael moved like a ghost, precise and lethal. Emberlyn danced with the blade—her old instincts flooding back, each strike carving through darkness with blinding fury.
But it wasn't enough.
More emerged—seven… nine… eleven.
Emberlyn slammed her sword into the ground, summoning a ring of fire. "Kael! Run!"
"I'm not leaving—"
"I need you to find Arenya," she yelled. "If they take me, she must be warned. She's the last key."
Kael hesitated—but he knew. With a furious shout, he vaulted over a crumbling wall and vanished into the storm.
Emberlyn turned, sword burning in her hand.
The flames roared around her.
And the shadows closed in.
---
Far across the mountains, beneath a canopy of blackened trees, a woman stirred.
She stood before a fire that would not go out, watching the smoke twist into patterns only she understood. Her twin blades rested on her back, and her eyes were hard—like stone that had seen war, loss, and eternity.
A whisper on the wind brought a name she hadn't heard in lifetimes.
"Seris…"
Arenya opened her eyes.
"She lives," she murmured. "Then the time has come."
The fire blazed higher.
---