The silence that followed the awakening of Elowen's blood was not peace. It was tension—a deep, vibrating stillness that made even the roots beneath the temple shiver.
Ashen had not spoken since they left the Tree of Echoes. His footsteps were steady, but his eyes… they were far away, drawn to something Elowen couldn't see.
"Ashen?" she asked softly.
He didn't answer. Not at first.
They walked beneath a broken arch where silver vines fell like rain. The stars above had shifted. They no longer followed the ancient sky patterns of the forest.
They were aligning.
And something was coming.
They stopped at a hollow beside the cliff, where water flowed upward—defying gravity, bending around invisible forces. Elowen knelt and touched it. It was warm.
"Ashen," she tried again. "Talk to me."
He exhaled, finally turning to her. "I remember."
Elowen froze. "Remember what?"
"My beginning. My name." He touched the side of his head as if it ached. "I was part of the first flame. Before the stars fractured. I wasn't always this…"
"Warden?" she offered.
He shook his head. "No. I was born as a guardian to the girl in the prophecy. I was meant to die before the forest fell asleep. But something changed. Aeron saw me—saw I had no bloodline, no fate. He rewrote me."
Elowen stood slowly. "He bound you."
"He used me to protect the gates, not you. I thought I served your path. I served his."
His voice cracked. "Elowen, I've killed before. I've opened doors I thought I sealed. And now I remember all of it."
He collapsed to his knees, trembling. The mist in the clearing thickened, wrapping around them like ghosts.
Elowen didn't hesitate. She knelt beside him, placing her glowing hand on his chest. "You are not the sum of his choices."
"But I am," he whispered. "I'm his shadow."
"No." Her voice rose like flame. "You are the reason I've survived this long. You're the one who stood between me and madness. That is who you are."
Ashen looked at her, and in his eyes were centuries of regret—and the smallest, most fragile seed of hope.
The mist parted. Before them stood an altar formed of obsidian and bone. Upon it sat an object wrapped in black silk, pulsing like a living heart.
"The Mirror of Ash," Elowen breathed.
Ashen frowned. "What is it?"
"A weapon," she said. "Or a curse."
She stepped forward, hands trembling. As she unwrapped the silk, her breath caught.
It was a mirror, yes. But within its glass moved stars—not reflections. A swirl of galaxies trapped in obsidian. And deep inside it… a scream, silent and endless.
She saw herself within it—
—but it wasn't her.
It was another Elowen.
One who had failed.
Ashen approached cautiously. "What do you see?"
Elowen's voice was distant. "Worlds. Lives. Every version of me who tried and fell."
She stepped back, shaking. "They all died, Ashen."
"But you haven't."
The mirror pulsed. A voice echoed through the clearing—not Aeron's, but something older.
"The mirror does not lie. But it does not bind. Choose your end, Daughter of the Stillwoods."
Elowen looked into the sky. The stars were now in full alignment.
"We don't have much time."
Ashen nodded. "Then we move."
He took her hand.
And for the first time since the journey began, Elowen did not feel alone.
Far away, beneath the shattered moon, Aeron stepped into a pool of fire. He reached toward the stars and crushed one in his fist.
He laughed.
"Let them run. I am the end."
And the earth trembled.