The trees whispered names as she passed—some she recognized from the Oracle's tales, others she didn't dare repeat.
The Hollow Vale was not on any map. It wasn't supposed to be. Paths shifted here. Birds didn't sing. Even the air felt... hollow, like it had been scooped out and replaced with the breath of ghosts.
Emberlynn moved with care, every step deliberate, her hand wrapped around the vial the Oracle had given her. It pulsed faintly against her skin, silver swirling like smoke and memory.
The mark on her shoulder tingled—warm, but not painful. Just aware. Like it, too, was watching the path.
"He's still near."
She didn't say it aloud. She didn't need to. His presence felt like a second skin—unseen, yet always brushing against her soul.
By dusk, she reached the ruins.
Once, it might've been a temple. Now it was just broken stone, clawed earth, and a half-collapsed arch standing stubborn against time. Vines wrapped the pillars like hands refusing to let go.
And in the center… a dais.
Cracked, ancient, and stained.
This was where the Key had last awakened.
Emberlynn stood at the edge, the vial in her hand. The Oracle's voice echoed in her memory: Drink when the shadows grow quiet. When even the wind holds its breath.
She waited.
Then the stillness came—so absolute it pressed against her eardrums.
She uncorked the vial and drank.
The world didn't just shift.
It tore.
She fell forward—into memory, into time, into something not meant for mortal minds.
She was standing in the ruins again—but it was whole. Lit with blue fire and chanting. Cloaked figures moved in circles around the dais. And on it—her.
No… not her.
A woman with her face. Her blood. Her power.
Eyes burning like twin stars. Hands lifted. The mark glowing.
And kneeling before her—Malphas.
But different. Less human. All horns and hunger and darkness woven into flesh.
The woman—her ancestor?—spoke in a voice that shook the sky.
"You will not bind me. You will not use the Key to unmake the seal."
Malphas smiled. That same smile. "But I would make you more than you are. Don't you want to know what you could become?"
The woman didn't flinch. "I know what power costs."
"And still you're willing to hold it?" he whispered. "Strange how mortals call demons monsters, yet become worse when given a taste of divinity."
Then—screams. Fire. The circle broken.
Betrayal.
A man stepped from the shadows. Human. Trusted. And plunged a blade into the woman's back.
Malphas roared—not with triumph, but rage. Grief.
The vision blurred, faded.
Emberlynn jolted back to the present with a scream on her lips and her knees in the dirt. The vial was gone, crushed beneath her palm.
Her body ached. Her soul burned.
The Key wasn't a tool. It was a burden. A legacy.
And Malphas… he hadn't been the enemy.
Not then.
Footsteps crunched behind her.
She turned.
He stood at the edge of the ruins, cloaked in shadow, his eyes glowing like dying suns.
"I wasn't going to come," he said quietly. "But I felt it. The moment you saw."
She rose, shaky but unbroken. "You let her die."
His face darkened. "I loved her. And I couldn't stop it. Just like I couldn't stop them from using the Key again."
Emberlynn clenched her fists. "Then why are you following me?"
"Because it's happening again. And this time, I won't lose."
He stepped closer, voice low and dangerous.
"I don't want to control you, Emberlynn. I want to protect you. But if you keep running from what you are, they will get to you first. And I won't be able to save you."
She met his gaze, every nerve in her body screaming.
"Then tell me everything."
His smile was sad. "You sure you want the truth?"
"I don't want lies."
He held out a hand, but didn't step closer.
"Then come with me."
Emberlynn hesitated—then reached forward.
Just as her fingers brushed his, the ground trembled.
The ruins began to split.
Malphas snarled. "They found us."
"Who?"
But she already knew.
The ones who killed the last Key.
The ones who would do it again.