---
The sea dreamt of light again.
That was how Thalindra described it — when the ocean, days after the Seraphic descent, began to shimmer faintly at night, reflecting constellations that didn't belong to this world.
I hadn't slept since the ashes fell. My hands trembled each time I touched parchment; ink bled where my pulse stuttered. Something inside me was… changing.
The mark — the vow — was no longer a faint sigil. It had begun to breathe.
When I held my breath, it didn't. When I prayed, it answered.
---
"Your essence is no longer wholly your own," Thalindra said as we stood in her sanctum that morning. The mirrors along the walls fogged where I passed, as if refusing to reflect me.
Lucien lingered near the archway, silent, shadows tracing his jaw. He hadn't slept either.
Rowen hovered uncertainly behind a table stacked with runes. "So what does that mean? Is she possessed?"
Thalindra's voice was sharp. "No. She's becoming. The vow binds her to a force older than Heaven's law."
I frowned. "Older than Heaven?"
"Older than memory."
She lifted her staff, its crystal pulsing in time with the mark on my hand. For an instant, both glowed the same — gold threaded with black, light and void in perfect harmony.
Lucien stiffened. "That resonance… that's not possible."
"It shouldn't be," Thalindra agreed. "But the vow is rewriting her nature. The bloodline of De'Ardentis was always touched by divinity. Now, it's remembering what it was forged from."
"Forged from what?" I whispered.
Thalindra's gaze softened. "Fire and grief."
Something deep within my ribs burned. I gripped the edge of the table, gasping as warmth surged beneath my skin — not painful, but consuming. My reflection in the glass behind her flickered — for one heartbeat, I wasn't entirely human.
Lucien moved before thought. His hand caught mine. "Elaris—"
The moment his skin met mine, the mark flared.
The room roared with wind and light. Scrolls flew open; the mirrors shattered outward. A sound like distant wings rippled through the sanctum — not angelic, not demonic, but something in between.
I heard my name in it.
Elaris.
Lucien dragged me close, his grip trembling. The mark burned between us, golden veins crawling up his wrist, mirroring mine.
"Let go," I gasped.
He didn't. "If I let go, you'll lose control."
"I am losing control!"
Thalindra raised her staff. "Break the contact now!"
The sigil pulsed once — and then the world folded.
---
When the light died, the sanctum was gone.
We stood in a vast field of glass. The sky above was black silk stitched with dying stars. Beneath the surface, faint faces moved — memories, perhaps, or echoes.
"This isn't real," Rowen whispered.
"It's within her vow," Thalindra said, her voice distant. "We're standing inside what binds her."
Lucien's jaw clenched. "Then it's not safe."
He stepped in front of me, his hand still locked with mine, eyes scanning the horizon — but there was no horizon, only endless reflection.
And in the mirrored ground, I saw myself — hundreds of versions of me, each one whispering the same phrase in languages I'd never learned:
> "The vow remembers."
---
The reflection nearest to me reached out. Its eyes burned faint gold.
"What do you want from me?" I asked.
It smiled — my smile, wrong and knowing.
> "To awaken."
My pulse stuttered. "Awaken what?"
> "What was promised when fire and heaven broke their oath."
Lucien snarled, stepping between me and the reflection. "You don't speak to her."
The mirrored version tilted its head. "You cannot protect what is already marked, halfbreed."
He flinched — the word struck deep.
"Enough!" Thalindra shouted, slamming her staff into the glass. The world rippled; cracks of light split the field.
The reflections screamed — one voice, a thousand tones — and shattered into dust.
I collapsed, gasping.
Lucien caught me again. "Elaris—"
I looked up at him. For the first time, I could see the divine sigils under his skin — golden runes faintly burning beneath his collarbones, pulsing like mine.
"The vow is linking us," I breathed.
He shook his head. "No. It's binding us."
The world snapped back — we were in the sanctum again. Smoke rose from the shattered mirrors. The air smelled of salt and blood.
Rowen coughed weakly. "What… what just happened?"
Thalindra's expression was grim. "The vow chose to reveal itself."
She turned to me. "Elaris, whatever this power is — it's no longer sleeping. It's watching."
I met Lucien's gaze. For a heartbeat, his eyes weren't amber. They were gold and black — light and void, just like the mark.
And I understood.
The vow wasn't just ancient.
It was alive.
---
That night, I dreamt of an altar drowned in flame — and a voice whispering through the ash:
> "When the vow completes, Heaven will burn to remember you."