The dream hadn't faded.
It clung to Ariya's mind like smoke — hazy, burning, persistent. A corridor of stone. A flame carved into black walls. And a voice, soft as wind, whispering:
"Come find me."
She couldn't ignore it. Wouldn't.
So at dawn, she rose. And the mark on her shoulder glowed, pulsing softly like a guide.
They left Serelun quietly, following no map — only her instinct. The villagers said nothing to stop them. A few even watched with sad, knowing eyes. As if they'd seen this journey begin before… centuries ago.
Lyra noticed it first. The path changed as they walked — trees subtly curving away, moss parting underfoot, as if the world itself was leading them forward.
"It's guiding us," Ariya whispered."Or luring us," Kael muttered.
Jax pulled out a piece of bread. "Either way, I vote we follow the magical burning shoulder."
By midday, they reached the cliffs.
An overhang of stone curved outward like the mouth of a cave — but there were no signs of life, no steps, no entrance.
Until Ariya touched the rock.
Her fingers burned the moment they connected.
The mark flared to life — brighter than ever before — and the cliff began to shiver.
Stone cracked. Lines of molten gold split down the wall like veins of fire. The ground trembled.
And slowly… silently… the entrance appeared.
A doorway carved into the heart of the cliff.
They stepped into darkness.
The air inside was ancient. Dry. Heavy with dust and the memory of something lost.
Ribbons of firelight ran along the walls, fed by no flame. Symbols glowed as they walked — the same as her mark, repeating over and over like a forgotten chant.
Then the tunnel widened into a vast, domed chamber.
And everything changed.
The room was massive, hollowed from obsidian and crystal. At its center stood a pillar of flame frozen in time, suspended in air — not burning, not moving. Just… waiting.
And surrounding it were murals. Hundreds of them. Painted in fire and shadow.
Ariya moved closer.
"That's…" Jax whispered, "you."
The murals showed a girl with burning eyes and a mark on her shoulder.Fighting. Bleeding. Standing before armies. Kneeling in fire.
"And him," Kael growled, pointing to a second figure.
The silver-eyed prince.
They stood side by side in some images.
And in others — facing each other across a battlefield.
One mural, cracked and half-ruined, showed them both reaching for the same object — a shard of gold — while the world burned behind them.
Another showed them bound by fire and shadow, standing before a broken throne.
And the last…
Ariya froze.
The final mural showed the girl falling, her mark glowing white.And the prince — reaching toward her, hand open — with tears in his eyes.
Silence fell.
Even Jax said nothing.
Ariya stepped forward until she was beneath the frozen flame.
Her mark burned hot. But she didn't pull away.
She looked up.
And in the flame's glow, she heard it again — a whisper.
"The cycle begins again."
Her legs gave out.
Kael caught her. Lyra knelt beside her, eyes wide with fear. Jax hovered, unsure whether to crack a joke or hold her hand.
Ariya stared up at the flame.
She didn't cry.Didn't speak.
Because somewhere, across mountains and war—
Ruvan had felt it too.