The desert greeted them with searing winds and silence. Not the silence of peace, but one that carried the echo of things long buried—ash, bone, and stories no one dared tell aloud.
The Temple of Cinders loomed ahead like a mirage carved from fire. Its towering spires glowed dimly, embers flickering along its molten seams. The ground was cracked obsidian, and the air shimmered with heat and memory.
Emberlynn adjusted the black scarf Malphas had wrapped around her face to shield her from the grit. "You could have teleported us."
Malphas smirked. "I could have. But you needed to feel the path beneath your feet. Every step closer to the temple burns away weakness."
"How poetic. And painful."
"You're doing better than most who try. The last Paragon Key almost didn't make it past the dunes."
She raised an eyebrow. "There was another?"
"Centuries ago. A girl with fire in her bones and fear in her heart. She failed." His tone darkened. "They fed her to the altar."
Emberlynn walked faster.
As they reached the foot of the temple stairs, a tremor rippled through the stone. Emberlynn froze, but Malphas kept walking.
"The Temple knows you're here," he said. "It remembers bloodlines."
"And it doesn't like me?"
"It doesn't like anyone."
The doors were enormous—twenty feet tall, forged of blackened metal with veins of fire pulsing through them. At the center, a symbol: a phoenix wrapped in thorns.
Emberlynn reached out.
The moment her fingertips brushed the metal, her mark ignited. A glow flared beneath her skin, racing from her shoulder down her arm. The doors groaned, slowly swinging inward with the sound of an ancient scream.
Inside, the light shifted.
It wasn't firelight.
It was memory.
The walls flickered with visions—ghosts of the past playing on endless repeat. Emberlynn saw a woman standing where she now stood, robes torn, arms bleeding, whispering a name through clenched teeth.
Her own.
"What is this?" she whispered.
"The temple shows you your lineage," Malphas said, stepping beside her. "It draws on what was, what could be, and what still hides inside you."
He didn't say what still sleeps. He didn't have to.
Emberlynn walked slowly. The corridor narrowed, opening into a circular chamber. In the center stood a pedestal, and floating above it—surrounded by dancing flames—was a glowing orb the color of dying embers.
It pulsed when she entered.
"Step forward," Malphas instructed.
She did.
The orb reacted instantly. Fire lashed out, curling around her like a serpent. It didn't burn, but it did hurt. Pain licked her nerves, digging deep—past skin, past flesh—straight into her soul.
She screamed but didn't fall.
Visions clawed through her mind: the woman from her dreams, the seal splitting open, Malphas cloaked in shadows, screaming her name.
Then darkness.
Then…
A voice.
"Emberlynn. My child."
She gasped. "Who—?"
The fire lifted her off the ground, suspending her mid-air. The flames turned white, then blue.
From the heat emerged a woman cloaked in light and ash. Her face mirrored Emberlynn's—older, wearier, but with the same eyes.
"You know me," the woman said softly.
"You're the woman from the ruins. From the vision."
"I am the one who forged the Paragon Key into our bloodline." Her voice trembled—not with fear, but with centuries of grief. "You are the final heir. The last spark."
"Why me?" Emberlynn asked, voice cracking. "I didn't choose this."
"No. But the Key did."
The woman reached out and pressed a burning hand to Emberlynn's chest.
At once, the mark on her shoulder spread—branches of light blooming across her skin like fire-forged vines.
"You carry the Lock and the Blade. Within you lies not just power… but judgment. And mercy. The world does not need another destroyer."
Emberlynn's breath hitched. "Then what does it need?"
"A soul strong enough to end the curse. And brave enough… to rewrite it."
The chamber spun, and the woman began to fade.
"Wait!" Emberlynn cried. "What's your name?"
The last thing she heard was:
"My name… was Elari."
---
Emberlynn fell to the floor as the flames vanished. She coughed, heart racing, skin glowing faintly under the torchlight.
Malphas knelt beside her, steadying her.
"You saw her."
"She was me," Emberlynn whispered. "Or… who I came from."
"She was the first," Malphas said. "And the last to ever love a demon."
Emberlynn blinked. "She loved you?"
Malphas stiffened, then stood. "No. Not me. One of my kind. He betrayed her. Tried to force the seal open with her blood. She died to stop him."
Emberlynn stood slowly. "And you? What would you do with me?"
His golden eyes darkened. "I haven't decided yet."
She didn't flinch. "Well, decide fast. Because I'm not just your key anymore. I'm the rewrite."
Malphas smiled, soft but dangerous. "Then I hope the world's ready."
They turned to leave, but the ground trembled again.
A voice echoed from deeper within the temple—one that didn't belong to Elari.
It was guttural, malevolent, and hungry.
"The Seal stirs."