We were being punished for sneaking off.
The punishment wasn't supposed to be dangerous.
"Discipline by reclamation," the Ash Mothers called it. A quiet sentence for quiet rebellion.
Just a drift of assigned salvage in the abandoned sublevels. Broken relics. Dead runes. Dust.
But Riftkeep is old.
And the bones of old things don't always stay buried.
---
Riftkeep Sublevels – Below the Temple of the Hollow Flame
"I thought we were supposed to be collecting broken artifacts," Kiva says, voice echoing down the corridor.
"We are," I murmur.
"Then why do half these boxes look like they were gnawed on by a demon made of hunger and bad choices?"
She kicks a rusted crate. It whines in protest.
I ignore her.
The lower levels reek of copper and moss. The torches don't stay lit here—not without being bound to aether. I've woven the runes into mine, and they float beside us like silent watchers.
"This place remembers fire," Nyx murmurs. "But not yours. Not yet."
---
We reach a collapsed archway beneath the Hollow Flame. The sigils above it are worn down to bone lines.
But as I move closer, the runes flicker. Faint and silver.
Alive.
Kiva notices. "That's not creepy at all."
I kneel by the threshold, fingers brushing the stone.
There's something here. Older than Riftkeep.
I feel it breathing.
"Sylara…" Nyx's voice tightens. "That seal is not for you to break."
"I'm not trying to," I whisper back.
But the arch trembles anyway.
---
Kiva touches the wall—and her torch flares violently.
A sigil burns onto the stone.
Not from her. From me.
The ground shakes.
The arch bursts open.
A vein of living crystal pulses through the tunnel like the artery of a god.
Inside it, trapped in a shell of mirrored amber, is a creature I don't recognize.
Antlers. Wings. Flame-shaped markings carved along its hide.
Kiva steps back. "Sylara… what did we just wake up?"
The magic in me reacts—sudden and furious.
I stumble, clutching my chest. The rune-scar beneath my sternum blazes.
And something inside Nyx tears loose.
A howling not-quite-sound crashes through my mind.
"No—no, Flamelet, not yet—don't let it—"
My vision whites out.
The tunnel pulses. Crystals ignite. The air bleeds silver and gold.
When I blink, the creature is gone.
But its heat remains.
And the runes have shifted—to match the brand beneath my skin.
---
We're pulled from the tunnels before dawn.
No one speaks on the way up.
But I feel the weight of the Ash Mothers' gaze the moment we emerge.
They know something happened.
But they don't stop us.
They don't punish us.
That's worse.
---
By midday, the whispers begin.
She touched the Veinstone and it bled.
The ash-blood girl cracked the Hollow Flame.
There's a creature missing from the old vaults.
Students watch me differently now.
Some with awe.
Some with fear.
One—a boy with grey-green eyes and inked runes on his neck—watches with interest. Too much interest.
I don't trust him.
"You shouldn't," Nyx agrees. "He smells like prophecy."
---
That night, Kiva finds me on the roof.
She offers a piece of mooncake without a word.
I take it.
We eat in silence.
After a while, she says, "You scared me, you know."
I glance at her. "You stayed anyway."
Kiva shrugs. "Well, someone's gotta keep you from setting the school on fire with your mysterious soul-flames."
I huff a laugh. It's short, sharp, and slightly unexpected.
"That's new," Nyx says. "She made you laugh. We should mark the date."
I say nothing. But I don't push Kiva away when she leans her shoulder lightly against mine.
---
And Far Beyond...
In the Royal Observatory, a highborn scryer drops her mirror in shock.
"The Hollow Flame cracked," she whispers. "And the Veinstone answered."
Her companion leans in. "Did you see who?"
She nods, pale. "A girl. Silver fire in her veins. A mark older than gods."
---