The gates of the Pierce estate groaned shut behind them.
Aaron walked ahead of Kain, guiding the barefoot child beside him. Ashen clung to his coat, silent since they'd left Takoba. His pale hand trembled with every gust of wind, but his eyes remained alert—clear, and the color of the sky.
Kain sheathed his blade. "The Thorn won't stop there. You'll need to learn fast."
Aaron glanced at him, then down at Ashen. "Both of us."
The mansion greeted them with its usual chill. Inside, nothing had changed—and that, more than anything, unsettled Aaron.
Too quiet.
Too still.
They moved through the marble halls until Kain peeled off. "I'll alert Lord Pierce."
Aaron led Ashen toward the west wing. He considered the servant quarters, but something pulled him elsewhere.
Not to his room.
To the library.
The western library had always felt... off.
It was built like a cathedral—vaulted ceilings, blackwood shelves stretching up the walls, books wrapped in velvet or chained shut, marked with symbols Aaron still couldn't read. The scent of old ink and forgotten secrets clung to the air like dust.
He sat Ashen near a low reading bench and crouched in front of him. "You okay?"
Ashen nodded.
"Do you know what they wanted from you?"
The child's voice came slow, distant. "They said I carry a piece of the storm... that I should've burned with the others."
Aaron's blood turned cold. "Others?"
Ashen's hands twitched. "There were three of us. They took them first. I ran. I think… they were like me."
Aaron sat beside him in stunned silence.
Before he could respond, a breeze passed through the sealed room.
He turned. No windows were open. No doors moved.
The temperature dropped. Candles flickered.
Then he saw them.
Eyes. Dozens of them, faint and glowing, watching from between the books. Some wide. Some narrow. Some human. Some... not.
Ashen noticed them too. He gripped Aaron's arm tighter. "The room remembers."
Aaron rose slowly. "This room... is alive?"
Ashen nodded. "It used to belong to a Skyborn. Before the Pierce family stole it."
The floor pulsed with sudden blue light.
A glyph ignited beneath their feet—the same symbol Aaron had seen in the chamber beyond the blue door.
And then, from the flicker of that light, a figure stepped forward. A projection. A woman in royal armor, her eyes glowing sky-blue, her face lined but proud.
She looked at them both. Her voice rang out, heavy and ancient.
"If you stand here, then I am no more. You have been hunted. You have burned. And now, you must choose."
Aaron's mouth opened, but no words came.
"This house is not your cage. It is your crucible. But know this—within these walls lies a truth so heavy, it buried kingdoms. When the fire calls... answer."
The light blinked out.
Ashen collapsed onto the floor, struggling to breathe.
Aaron caught him, lifting him gently. "What the hell was that?"
Behind them, footsteps echoed on the marble.
Frankfurt Pierce entered the library, his expression unreadable.
"You touched the memory glyph," he said.
Aaron turned toward him. "What did it mean?"
Frankfurt stepped closer. "It means the house has chosen to begin revealing the truth. And you—both of you—are no longer just my guests."
He looked down at the child. "What's your name, boy?"
Ashen hesitated, then said quietly, "He gave me one. Ashen."
Frankfurt's gaze lingered. "Fitting."
He turned back to Aaron. "Tomorrow, your training begins. Not just with fire—but with memory, blood, and shadow. You've seen what hunts you."
Aaron stood tall. His voice was steady. "I'm done running."
Frankfurt gave a solemn nod. "Then may the fire show you mercy. Because no one else will."