The firelight danced across the Hollow’s stone walls, casting long, trembling shadows that looked like figures from dreams half-remembered. Kaelin sat alone in the chamber of embers, Cinderlight unsheathed and glowing faintly by her side.
She hadn’t spoken in hours.
Not since their return from Blackmarsh.
The weight of memory lingered behind her eyes—the moment the One in Embers reached into her past, not to wound but to remind. It had left something behind in her chest. Not pain. Not fear. Something worse: a seed of understanding.
He hadn’t come to burn.
He had come to rewrite.
---
Myrra entered first, bringing with her the scent of melted candlewax and old leather tomes. She dropped into the seat beside Kaelin and unfurled a thick scroll covered in runes Kaelin barely recognized.
