The sky was silver-gray and still when Lumina and Damien set out; morning fog clung low to the ground like a breath that refused to rise. The castle behind them faded into the mist as the carriage rolled forward, wheels creaking over the uneven path.
Damien sat across from her, cloaked in black as usual; his gaze fixed on something distant beyond the glass. Lumina sat quietly, her hands folded in her lap; her fingers brushed against the diamond necklace without thinking. It pulsed faintly... a warmth that didn't comfort but warned.
"Where are we going?" she asked softly.
"Velmira," he said. "A place where witches once ruled. Before the world decided to burn them."
Lumina swallowed; the name felt strange in her mouth... like tasting ash.
"They burned them?" she asked.
Damien's jaw tensed. "Not just them. Their children... their homes... their history. Everything that carried their name."
The road twisted sharply; broken fences and half-swallowed signs marked the path ahead. As they passed through one village—abandoned, its windows staring like hollow eyes—Lumina felt the hair on her neck rise.
"There's no wind," she whispered. "No birds. No sound at all."
Damien nodded slowly. "Even silence has memory."
---
By mid-morning, the ruins of Velmira came into view.
Charred towers loomed like blackened teeth from the ground; crumbled stone walls were veined with ivy and ash. The earth was dark here... the kind of dark that didn't feel natural. There were no flowers; only thorny growth and brittle grass that cracked underfoot.
Lumina stepped down from the carriage, breath catching in her throat. Something about the air made her feel smaller... like she had stumbled into the bones of something ancient.
A woman waited near the entrance of the ruins. She was older, with thin gray braids wrapped around her head like a crown, and a long coat the color of old parchment. Her eyes were sharp... but not unkind.
"This is Maire," Damien said. "She studied Velmira's history before the archives burned."
Maire's gaze swept over Lumina—lingering on the necklace. Her lips tightened, but she didn't speak.
They began their walk into the ruins.
The deeper they went, the heavier the air felt. Stone steps crumbled beneath their feet; broken archways framed skies too wide, too quiet. The smell of old smoke hung in the breeze—faint but stubborn, like it didn't want to be forgotten.
Lumina touched the wall of a ruined hall; the stone felt warm beneath her fingers. "It shouldn't be this warm," she murmured.
"It's never cold here," Maire replied. "Not even in winter."
Her voice echoed faintly.
They walked until they reached what once must have been a throne room. The pillars were mostly gone; only jagged stumps remained. In the center of the room, the floor bore strange runes—spirals and curves etched deep into the stone, layered over one another like scars.
Lumina felt her necklace hum again.
She knelt—almost without thinking—and reached for the carvings. As soon as her fingertips brushed the stone... they lit up. A soft, eerie glow bloomed beneath her skin; the runes responded to her.
Maire gasped, stumbling back. "Saints preserve us," she whispered. "She really is one of them..."
Lumina's heart raced. The light faded quickly, but her fingers still tingled. She looked up at Damien; he was watching her—not shocked, not scared... just still.
Then the world tilted.
A sharp heat surged through her chest; her vision blurred—and in its place, a vision unfurled:
She stood at the center of the same temple—but whole, alive, breathing. Voices chanted in the air. Witches in long robes formed a circle; flames danced above their palms. And at the center of it all stood a woman who looked like Lumina... but older. Her hair was braided with silver thread; her eyes glowed with power. She raised her arms—and fire obeyed.
The same diamond necklace glinted at her throat.
Then came the screaming. The fire spread. The witches burned from the inside out. Their powers cracked the walls... shattered the sky...
And Lumina woke with a gasp—on her back, the cold stone pressing into her spine. Her hands trembled.
Damien was kneeling beside her, his hand just inches from her shoulder—but not touching.
Maire crossed herself. "She's cursed," she said in a shaky voice. "She shouldn't be here..."
"Neither should you," Damien said coldly, standing. His tone silenced her like a blade drawn in the dark.
They left the throne room in silence.
But as they crossed the cracked archway, the vines trailing along the stone walls curled toward Lumina—slowly, gently... reaching. Then they stopped. As if recognizing her... and retreating in silence.
Lumina didn't speak. She couldn't. Her breath still caught in her throat... and the runes were still glowing in her mind.
She heard a whisper—faint, just before they reached the carriage.
Her name.
The wind spoke it like a warning... or a prayer.
---
They didn't speak on the ride back.
Damien sat across from her again, but his expression had shifted; there was something quieter behind his eyes now. Not fear... not pity either.
Respect, maybe. Or concern.
Lumina stared out the window; the clouds had darkened.
Finally, Damien spoke.
"You lit the floor with your touch."
She didn't respond.
"Do you still doubt what you are?" he asked.
Lumina turned her head; her voice was low. "I don't know if I'm theirs... or something worse."
Damien looked at her—really looked.
"You'll need to decide that soon," he said. "Because others are already choosing for you."
---
Back at the castle, night had settled.
The queen stood on a high balcony, her silk robe trailing behind her like liquid shadow. She watched the road below, expression unreadable.
Eren stood beside her, a goblet of dark wine in his hand.
"She's waking up," the queen said.
Eren sipped. "Then we must move quickly."
She didn't look at him. "Do you believe she's the girl from the prophecy?"
"I believe," Eren said slowly, "that if you hear thunder long enough... you prepare for lightning."
The queen's fingers tightened on the stone railing.
"If she becomes a threat—"
Eren cut her off gently. "Then let's see what happens when the flame meets blood."
-—