The world came back slowly.
Aria felt cold stone beneath her cheek. Her fingers twitched. Her body ached like she'd fallen from a rooftop.
She opened her eyes.
The courtyard was quiet. The silver tree still stood at the far end, still as a statue. The air smelled of dust and old leaves. The mark on her palm had faded, but a faint glow still lingered under her skin.
She sat up, her breath sharp in her chest. What just happened?
There had been light. And a voice. A voice that spoke in her mind, not out loud.
You are the last. The last voice. The last flame. The last Oracle of Eldrid.
Aria stared at her hand. The mark had vanished completely now, but the memory of it burned in her mind.
A soft rustle made her look up.
The black cat had returned. It sat on the edge of the dry fountain, tail wrapped neatly around its paws. It watched her with calm, steady eyes.
"You again," Aria said, her voice hoarse.
The cat blinked.
"Did you… do something to me?" she asked. "Or was it that tree?"
The cat said nothing, of course. Just flicked its tail and jumped down from the fountain. It padded toward the tree and sat beneath it.
Aria hesitated, then stood. Her legs were shaky, but she followed.
The bark of the tree was smooth, almost metallic. Up close, she could see carvings running through it—symbols and shapes she didn't understand, glowing faintly with the same golden light she'd seen in her palm.
She reached out.
The moment her fingers touched the bark, a wave of heat rushed through her. Not burning—but warm. Like standing near a fire after a storm.
Visions flashed through her mind. Brief. Blurred.
A temple of stone and fire. Cloaked figures kneeling. A crown made of flame.
And a face—hidden in shadow. Watching her.
She stumbled back, gasping.
The glow faded. The tree returned to stillness.
"Okay," Aria whispered. "This is real. This is happening."
She looked at the cat. "What am I supposed to do now?"
The cat meowed once and walked away.
Aria hesitated only a second before following.
---
The path it led her on was different from before. This time, it didn't twist or vanish into dead ends. It led her back through Duskmere—but not through the places she knew. These streets were older. Forgotten. Moss grew between the stones. Broken windows stared down like blind eyes.
Finally, they reached a narrow stairway, almost hidden between two buildings. The cat stopped at the top and looked down at her.
Aria climbed slowly, hand against the wall for balance.
At the top was a wooden door, worn but still standing. The cat scratched at it once, then sat down.
"You want me to go in there?" she asked.
The cat meowed.
Aria rolled her eyes. "Of course you do."
She reached for the handle—and paused.
What if someone was inside? What if it was a trap?
But something told her it wasn't.
She opened the door.
Inside was a room filled with dust and silence. Shelves lined the walls, holding old scrolls and books. A map covered in faded ink stretched across one wall. In the center of the room stood a table, and on it—a small metal box.
Aria stepped closer.
The box was shaped like a cube, covered in the same symbols she'd seen on the tree. Her heart pounded.
She reached out and touched it.
The box clicked.
Then, it opened.
Inside was a pendant. A small, silver flame hanging from a black cord.
As soon as she touched it, the mark on her palm blazed back to life.
And this time, she didn't feel afraid.
She felt ready.