The air outside the Temple of Cinders was clearer, but colder. Emberlynn hugged her arms to her body as she walked beside Malphas, the eerie silence of the ruins pressing in from all sides. The wind carried the scent of smoke and something faintly floral—like ghostly petals caught in an eternal blaze.
"Where are we going now?" she asked.
Malphas glanced over his shoulder. "Somewhere safe."
"Safe doesn't exist, does it?"
"Not for people like us."
They passed under a crumbling arch, the stone beneath their feet still warm from the temple's old fire. Emberlynn's thoughts spun, returning again and again to Azroth's voice, the venom in his words.
Unripe.
Less.
She clenched her fists. The power she'd felt inside her when she'd pushed him back—it had been fierce, but fleeting. Like a spark caught in the wind. What if that was all she had? What if it burned out before she ever understood how to control it?
As if sensing her thoughts, Malphas slowed his steps.
"You sealed him, Ember. That's not something even trained mages can do. Not without years of study."
"But it wasn't me. I didn't even know what I was doing."
"It was you. Just… not the version of you you're used to."
Emberlynn stopped walking. "What does that mean?"
He turned to face her fully. "The Key is more than just a title. It's a tether. Between worlds. Between power and its source. It awakens what's buried deep inside—and sometimes, that means it wakes you up too."
A sharp chill ran down her spine. "Are you saying I'm not fully human?"
"I'm saying you're more than human."
Before she could respond, the wind shifted.
Something moved in the trees.
Malphas spun, his shadows rising instantly, curling protectively around her.
"Another demon?" Emberlynn asked.
He shook his head. "Worse. A Watcher."
The moment the word left his lips, a figure stepped from the mist.
Dressed in black robes that shimmered like oil, the Watcher had no visible face—just a mask, smooth and pale, with no eyes or mouth. It moved without sound, floating slightly above the ground.
It raised a hand, and Emberlynn felt a voice inside her mind—not heard, but felt.
"You carry the fire that should never burn again."
She staggered back, pressing her hands to her ears, but the voice wasn't coming from outside—it was in her blood, in her bones.
Malphas threw a blade of fire toward the Watcher, but it passed right through the figure like smoke.
"Return the Key to ash. Or suffer what follows."
Then it vanished.
Just like that.
The silence returned, but it was heavier now—pregnant with warning.
Malphas didn't speak. He just turned and kept walking, faster this time.
Emberlynn followed, heart racing. "What was that? It didn't even exist in the same way Azroth did."
"They never do. Watchers don't fight like demons. They don't fight at all. They curse."
"Curse?"
"They mark people. Places. Fates." He looked at her with an unreadable expression. "If one's following you… it means your presence is already disturbing the balance."
Emberlynn bit her lip. "And that's bad, right?"
Malphas gave a dry laugh. "Only if you want to live."
They didn't speak again until they reached a clearing surrounded by ash trees. In the center stood a small cabin—wooden, ancient, and radiating quiet warmth.
"This is your version of safe?" she asked.
"For now."
They entered. Inside, it was simple: a fire pit, a table, two chairs. Runes lined the walls—some glowing faintly, others faded with age. It smelled like herbs and ash, with a strange undertone of lavender.
As Emberlynn sat down, Malphas lit the fire with a flick of his fingers.
She stared into the flames.
"What happens now?"
He handed her a small leather-bound book.
"What's this?"
"Everything I've gathered about the Paragon Key. Spells. Warnings. Maps. If you're going to survive, you'll need to understand what you are—and what they want from you."
Her hands trembled as she took it.
Malphas sat across from her, eyes serious. "And tomorrow, we begin your training."