The darkness breathed.
Elara stood frozen at the threshold, her mother's voice curling around her like smoke. It wasn't possible. Her mother had died screaming twelve years ago, burned alive with the rest of their coven.
Yet the tomb whispered again:
"Daughter of thorns, come home."
Kaelan's sword scraped against stone as he stepped in front of her. "Illusion," he muttered, though the tremor in his voice betrayed him. "Church tricks."
A wet, dragging sound echoed from the blackness.
Something moved inside.
Elara's curse ignited along her fingers, casting jagged shadows across the walls. The light revealed what the runes had hidden—the tomb wasn't empty. Dozens of skeletons lined the chamber, their bones fused to the stone in grotesque poses of agony. Each skull bore the same mark burned into their foreheads: a crescent moon with a slash through it.
The Witchfinder's Brand.
Her knees nearly buckled. These were her ancestors.
Kaelan inhaled sharply. "This is a killing ground."
The dragging sound grew louder. From the depths, a figure emerged—not a Ravener, but something far worse.
It wore Sister Lissa's face.
Elara's throat closed. The woman had been like an aunt, the one who'd hidden her during the purge. Now her corpse-pale skin stretched too tight over sharp bones, her eyes milky with death. When she spoke, grave dirt pattered from her lips:
"You should have burned with us, little ember."
Kaelan moved. His blade took the thing's head clean off.
It kept talking as it rolled across the floor.
"The Church took our magic, but we kept one secret for you." The head came to rest at Elara's feet, its dead lips splitting into a smile. "In the blood lies the truth."
The tomb shook violently. Cracks spiderwebbed through the bones on the walls as the runes flared blinding white. Kaelan grabbed Elara's wrist.
"Run. Now."
They barely cleared the entrance before the ceiling collapsed. The impact sent them tumbling down a slope, landing in a heap at the forest's edge.
Elara's hands shook as she pushed herself up. Kaelan's demon mark had spread further, the black veins now creeping toward his jaw. He stared at the dust cloud rising from the ruined tomb, his expression unreadable.
"It called you by name."
She wiped blood from her split lip. "It wasn't really them. Just... echoes."
"Echoes don't know secrets." He turned to her, his golden eyes reflecting the dawn light. "What did it mean about your blood?"
The brand on the skeletons flashed in her memory. She knew exactly what it meant—and why the Church wanted her dead.
But some truths were too dangerous to speak aloud.
"We need to keep moving," she said instead.
Kaelan studied her for a long moment before nodding. As they limped toward the tree line, neither mentioned the faint whispering that followed them—or how the leaves trembled where no wind blew.