The child was born on the longest night of winter, when the snow was deep and the fires burned low.
Elara held her daughter in the farmhouse where she had been born, where her father had been born, where the Ember had first awakened decades ago. The baby's eyes were grey—James's grey, Taylor's grey, the grey of the void-touched.
"What will you name her?" Taylor asked.
"Kaela. After the Deep One who tried to burn the harvest."
"That's a strange tribute."
"He tried to destroy us. Now he helps us grow. That's worth remembering."
Taylor touched the baby's cheek.
"She's beautiful."
"She's stubborn. I can already tell."
"Like her grandmother."
"Like all of us."
---
The void stirred inside Elara.
She carries my mark.
"The echo?"
Yes. She will be the next vessel. When you are gone.
