The next morning brought no warmth, only a bruised sky and a silence that felt too deliberate.
Emberlynn stood alone in the clearing, breath visible in the sharp morning air. Malphas had left at dawn, leaving only a note burned into bark:
"Trust the flame. It knows you better than I do. – M."
She wasn't sure if it was meant to be comforting or ominous.
The fire from yesterday still lingered under her skin, not as heat but as a pulse—steady, humming, aware. She could feel it waiting, watching. It wasn't just a power anymore; it was a presence.
She opened the book again—page twenty-three now—and found a single phrase scrawled in a different ink.
"To awaken the second flame, shed the first in darkness."
"What does that mean?" she muttered.
The clearing had changed again. The tether ring was no longer visible. Instead, a path of scorched leaves led into the forest—leaves blackened but not consumed. She followed it.
The trees closed in, branches twisted as if recoiling from whatever power had passed through. Her flame flickered to life with each step, like it was guiding her—or warning her.
The path ended at a stone gate carved into a hillside. Vines curled around its arch, but the symbols etched into it glowed faintly. Emberlynn touched one, and the gate opened with a sound like exhaled breath.
Beyond was a chamber. Cold. Silent. Filled with mirrors.
Each one showed a different version of her.
In one, she was armored and cruel, leading legions with eyes like embers.
In another, she was bleeding, kneeling before the Watcher, her mark glowing like a brand.
In the final one, she was simply gone. A burned shadow on the wall.
A whisper curled through the air: "Choose."
Her hands trembled. "What am I choosing?"
No answer.
Then the mirror on the right cracked.
A voice—not hers—spoke from within.
"The second flame is truth. Can you bear it?"
The mirror burst into light.
Emberlynn screamed—but didn't move.
She let it take her.
The chamber disappeared. She was in a cold, stone hallway lit by blue fire.
Chains clinked.
And from the far end came Malphas—younger, leaner, rawer. His wings were ripped, barely holding. He was dragging something behind him.
A girl.
Emberlynn's breath caught. It wasn't her.
But it was her.
Or had been.
The girl was unconscious. Marked on the same shoulder. The same hair. The same scar under the eye.
And Malphas… knelt beside her.
"I'm sorry," he said to the girl. "I'll fix it. I'll bring you back."
He raised a blade to his own palm. Cut deep. Let blood fall onto her chest. Magic flared.
But she didn't wake.
He sobbed once—then stood, his face turning cold.
"Then I'll find another version of you. One who survives."
The memory snapped.
Emberlynn was back in the mirror room, sobbing.
He had found her.
Not by chance. Not fate.
She was a replacement.
A second try.
She staggered out of the chamber, flames surging wildly—angry, betrayed.
Malphas was waiting at the edge of the woods.
"You saw too much," he said softly.
"You used me."
"No," he said. "I chose you. Because this time, I won't fail."
She raised her arm. Fire danced down it.
"Then you tell me the truth. Right now. Or I burn every lie between us."
He met her eyes. No charm. No smirk.
Only honesty.
"She was the first Key. And she died because I was weak. You're not her—but you carry what she did. I thought I could control it. I can't. But maybe you can."
She didn't lower her arm.
"I don't want to be a replacement."
"You're not," he said. "You're a reckoning."
The fire burned brighter.
But she let it go.
Only ash remained between them.
And the promise of what would come next.
To be continued…