The sky was blood-red when Ivy woke.
The camp was in chaos.
Ember was gone.
The scrolls were gone.
And the seal on Ivy’s chest felt like it had been carved from living fire.
“She took them,” Kael said, voice grim as he tightened his sword strap. “She left just before dawn. Alone.”
Ivy gritted her teeth.
“She’s going to the Flameborn Temple. The one buried under Ashfang’s borderlands.”
“How do you know?” Iliana asked.
“I dreamed it.”
And that was the terrifying part.
Because Ivy’s dreams were no longer just hers.
They rode without rest.
Kael, Iliana, three scouts, and Ivy.
The Ashfang forest blurred past them—ghost trees, ancient symbols, and magic that stirred like wind through dead leaves. The closer they got, the hotter the air became.
By nightfall, they found the temple.
