The wind scattered the last plumes of smoke rising from the Temple of the Heart of Fire and drove them toward Illyria. No test or prophecy remained behind now; only two weary bodies and the ache of a fire still burning within them.
Moaito, slumped in the doorway, rubbed his eyes. Dust and sweat had formed a grey mask on his face. Sere was crouched beside a pile of stones, staring at her trembling hands. The palm of her right hand was reddened with the imprint of the stone she had gripped like the hilt of the sword in her dream.
"I don't feel anything," Sere whispered, her voice cracked like dry earth. "No fear, no joy... Nothing."
Moaito didn't turn his head. "Fire burns everything and leaves only ash behind. What you feel is just that."
They stayed like that for a while. The sun tried to warm them with pale light seeping through the heavy clouds in the sky. Finally, Moaito stood up and staggered toward Sere. He took out his waterskin and offered it to her.
"Drink."
Sere seemed to come to herself with the water's cool relief. Moaito crouched on the ground beside her, looking at her burned hand.
"Was it the same for you?" Sere asked. "Did everything burn to ash?"
Moaito's lips moved slightly. "No. Mine... became more like a mirror. What I saw were the things I tried to forget."
"Your brother?"
Moaito took a deep breath. "Yes. Elian. But it wasn't losing him that shattered me... it was letting him be lost. I had sworn an oath as a Light Guard, but my hands were tied when the darkness took him."
Sere could see the ancient pain on Moaito's face. This was not a fresh wound, but an agony deepened by the accumulation of centuries.
"I lost my mother, too," Sere replied, her voice trembling. "It wasn't an illness, nor a war... She just left. And I wasn't by her side in her final moments. Regret is that. A fire that never goes out."
The two strangers looked upon each other's ashes. They didn't need to speak; their silence shared their deepest secrets.
As the first shadows of evening began to lengthen, Sere took the Threshold Stone from her pocket. The stone was cold and silent.
"So, where to now?" she asked.
Moaito looked toward the horizon. "The Lake of Destiny. The opposite of Fire. That is the next step in our quest for balance."
"How do we get there?"
"By walking."
They spent the night just outside the temple ruins, in the hollow of a fallen tree. Sere, exhausted from fatigue, fell asleep. Moaito remained on watch, his eyes on the star-filled sky, his ear tuned to every sound from the depths of the forest.
They woke in the misty morning. Without a word, they gathered their things and set out for the Lake of Destiny. Their path was unknown, filled with dangers, but something had changed: They were no longer alone.