The night after the first blaze was unlike any Emberlynn had ever known. Sleep didn't come easy. Her body thrummed with leftover fire, with energy that didn't quite feel like hers. The ground under her cot seemed to pulse in time with her heartbeat, and every time she closed her eyes, she saw the chained Malphas.
Not the one who guarded her now with sarcasm and shadow blades, but the one from the memory—the one broken and on his knees before a woman with her face. Or a face like hers.
When the firelight finally dimmed, she stood and left the tent, stepping into the cool silence of the forest clearing. The moon hung high, watching. Malphas sat nearby, a book open on his lap, his expression unreadable.
"Couldn't sleep?" he asked without looking at her.
"Could you, knowing that you might not be who you thought you were?" she replied.
He closed the book and stood, stretching his limbs like a cat. "Identity is a strange thing in the realms. Who we are often depends on what we remember—or what we're told to forget."
"Who was she?" Emberlynn asked. "The woman in the memory."
Malphas didn't answer at first. He walked to the edge of the clearing, where the shadows grew thickest, and picked up a stone. He turned it over in his hand, thoughtful.
"She was called Seraphyne," he finally said. "Bearer of the First Flame. The original Key."
"So… I'm her?"
"No," Malphas said. "But you carry what she left behind. Her flame. Her will. Her wrath."
"And you served her."
Malphas's jaw tightened. "I was bound to her. There's a difference."
Emberlynn stepped closer. "You said you broke a promise."
His eyes met hers. "Yes. One that cost a war, a kingdom, and her life."
The silence between them crackled like kindling.
"Why are you helping me?" she asked.
"Because if I don't, you'll burn yourself out. And if that happens…" He didn't finish. "The Key will find someone else. Someone worse."
Before Emberlynn could ask more, a sound tore through the woods—a low howl, unnatural and rising like a scream.
Malphas drew his blade of shadow. "Stay close."
The trees around the camp bent unnaturally, their branches twitching like limbs. Something moved between them—something fast, sharp, and wrong.
It burst into view.
A creature of bone and black mist, its eyes hollow, its body stitched together with threads of light. It lunged at Emberlynn.
She raised her hand instinctively, fire flashing to life in her palm. The blast knocked the beast back, but not far. It skidded to a stop, limbs twitching like broken marionettes.
Malphas was beside her in an instant, sword spinning in his hand. He leapt forward, slashing the creature across its midsection. Shadows hissed as it reared back.
"What is that thing?!" Emberlynn yelled.
"An Echo. A memory that refuses to die. The Key stirs them."
More howls answered. The trees began to move.
"Run!" Malphas shouted.
They sprinted through the forest, Emberlynn's legs pumping, fire blazing from her hands to light the way. Behind them, shapes poured from the trees—Echoes, a dozen at least, clawing the air with ghostly limbs.
Malphas turned mid-stride and hurled a shadow spike behind them. One Echo exploded in black smoke. Another leapt from above, its jaw unhinged, aiming for Emberlynn's throat—
She ducked and fired upward. The fire took it midair, dissolving it in a shriek of light.
The trees opened into a clearing with stone ruins. Malphas dragged her into a broken archway and slammed a glowing rune into the ground. A ring of violet light spread, sealing the space.
The Echoes circled but could not enter.
"They're drawn to you," Malphas said, panting. "Your flame woke them."
Emberlynn leaned against the stone, sweat dripping down her spine. "Why didn't you tell me this would happen?"
"Because it shouldn't. Not this soon."
She looked up at him, and for the first time, saw something like fear in his expression.
"What's happening to me?"
He didn't answer.
Because he didn't know.
As the sun rose, casting golden spears through the fog, Emberlynn sat alone on a broken column, watching the light play through her fingers. Tiny sparks danced along her skin without her willing them.
Malphas returned from the forest with a quiet step. He handed her a piece of fruit—dark blue, glowing faintly.
"It'll keep your energy from collapsing. Flame work takes more than strength. It drains will."
She bit into it, wincing at the bitter taste. "So what now?"
"We find the next flame. The Second Core. But we're not alone in this realm anymore. And we need allies."
"Like who?"
He gave her a crooked grin. "Warriors. Thieves. Liars. The kind who can survive a death-marked Key."
He reached into his coat and pulled out a rune-stamped coin.
"I know where to start."
Far away, in a tower wreathed in bone and wind, a mirror cracked.
A hooded figure leaned forward.
"She's awakened," the voice rasped. "The Key walks again."
From the shadows stepped another.
Tall. Graceful. Eyes like polished ruby.
"Then the Hunt begins," Lady Isolde whispered. "Let her burn. We'll forge a crown from her ashes."