Kane's breath caught as fragments surfaced—flashes of pine forests, the scent of ancient fires, a voice calling through flames.
"The dreams," he whispered.
"I've been having dreams about running through a forest. Someone was chasing me, and then..." His amber eyes widened.
"Fire. Crimson flames protecting me."
Cyrus went very still.
"You remember."
"Only pieces and fragments." Kane leaned forward, urgency creeping into his voice.
"There was a grove with stone markers. We were both different—you wore armor, and I looked older. Our reflections talked to each other."
"The sacred grove beneath the Northern Peaks," Cyrus murmured. "That's where we first made our pact."
Kane's hand moved unconsciously to his chest, where their transformed seal still pulsed with warmth.
"What kind of pact?"
Cyrus's jaw tightened, ancient pain flickering across his features.
