"My lady, you have returned," the priestess whispered, voice trembling as she dropped to her knees before Celeste.
Celeste froze. Her heart lurched into her throat as the words rang in her ears. Returned?
Lucien blinked, eyes narrowing. "What did you just say?" His voice was calm, but tight. Dangerous.
The priestess didn't look at him. Her gaze remained fixed on Celeste, reverent and awed, as if in the presence of a deity.
"I didn't know it would be you," the priestess murmured. "But the mark. The blood. It's undeniable."
Lucien stepped between them, shielding Celeste. "She doesn't know what you're talking about. Explain."
The priestess slowly rose to her feet, eyes never leaving Celeste. "I will. But not here. Not standing. The answers you both seek… they lie deeper than you realize."
Celeste stood still, her fingers unconsciously drifting to the mark on her wrist. It burned faintly again. Not painfully more like a pulse. Like it recognized the woman standing before her. Her voice returned in a hoarse whisper.
"Why did you call me that? Who do you think I am?"
The priestess offered a sad, almost haunted smile. "Not who. What."
Lucien's jaw tensed, but he didn't interrupt.
The priestess motioned toward the heavy velvet curtains behind the altar. "Come. There's something you must see."
Celeste exchanged a glance with Lucien. He hesitated,then gave her a nod, letting her choose. Her body moved before her mind caught up.
They followed the priestess down a spiral staircase lit only by flickering oil lamps. The air grew cooler, heavy with incense and age. Symbols lined the walls, celestial sigils, bloodlines etched into stone.
They stopped in a cavernous chamber at the bottom. At its center was a raised pedestal holding an ancient book, bound in leather darkened by time and secrets.
The priestess gestured. "This is the Grimoire of the Bound Flame. Only those marked by the contract may open it."
Celeste stared at the book. Her mark throbbed. A heat rose in her chest,something primal. Drawn. She stepped forward, lifted the cover.
It opened without resistance.
Lucien looked stunned. "That's impossible. That book hasn't opened for anyone in"
"A century," the priestess finished. "Until now."
Celeste's voice shook. "What am I?"
The priestess took a breath. "You are not entirely of this world. Your bloodline is old, forged in fire and shadow, hidden even from the eyes of Hell. You bear the soulbound mark not by chance, but by inheritance."
Lucien's brows furrowed. "What are you saying?"
"That the contract did not bind her. It recognized her."
Celeste staggered back. "No. I'm human. My mother was human. I'm just"
The priestess's eyes softened. "What you were told and what you are… are not the same."
Lucien's hand went to Celeste's arm. He didn't speak, but his touch was grounding. She didn't pull away.
"Who were my parents?" Celeste whispered. "My real parents?"
The priestess hesitated. "That, I cannot answer. But someone can. And he waits for you."
Lucien's tone turned sharp. "Who?"
The priestess met his gaze. "The Keeper of the First Flame. He has watched over the bloodlines for centuries."
Lucien inhaled sharply. "He's still alive?"
The priestess nodded. "Barely. But he remembers her kind."
Celeste could hardly breathe. The room spun, the weight of it all threatening to crush her. Lucien stepped closer, voice low.
"I don't know what you are, Celeste. But I know this I won't let anyone use you. Not even fate."
She looked up at him, his red eyes intense but steady. "You said once I was dangerous."
"I still believe that," he said. "But now I think you're dangerous because they were afraid of what you could become."
The priestess's voice cut through the moment. "You must go soon. The Keeper doesn't have long."
Celeste swallowed the rising panic. She didn't know what she was walking into, or who she truly was. But there was no turning back.
Not anymore.
"Take me to him," she said.
The priestess nodded, and the flames in the chamber flared.
The past was calling.
And it would not be silenced.
---
The journey to the Keeper's sanctuary was silent and swift, a path only the priestess seemed to know. Hidden in the bowels of the earth, they passed forgotten catacombs, ancient murals, and sealed doors that trembled at their approach. Celeste could feel the pressure building around them, as if the walls themselves remembered her.
When they entered the final chamber, it was lit by a single flame suspended in air. It hovered above a stone dais where a withered figure lay cloaked in black robes, eyes closed, skin gray with time.
The Keeper.
The flame pulsed once, twice. Then the old man stirred.
His eyes opened milky white and blind, but they turned immediately to Celeste.
"It is true," he rasped. "She has returned."
Lucien stepped forward protectively, but Celeste held out a hand, halting him.
"Who am I?" she asked, voice trembling.
The Keeper's breath rattled. "You are born of the Forgotten Line. The Flameblood. A descendant of those who were meant to guard the boundary between worlds. Your kind vanished long ago. Hunted. Hidden. Until now."
"I don't understand. Why me?"
"Because only you can reignite what was lost. And because the war is coming."
Lucien's eyes darkened. "What war?"
The Keeper turned toward him. "The heir of Hell asks the question. But you already know the answer. The balance is shifting. Heaven is moving. The Courts stir. And now that she is awakened.
"The seals will break," Lucien finished grimly.
Celeste whispered, "What am I meant to do?"
The Keeper smiled faintly. "Survive. Remember. And choose."
The flame above him dimmed. His final words fell like ashes.
"They will all come for you now."
Then the flame went out.
And the Keeper was gone.
Celeste felt Lucien's arms wrap around her as her legs gave out. The mark on her wrist flared brighter than ever.
She was no longer just a soulbound girl.
She was the spark of a forgotten fire.
And everything had just begun.