The Ashborn leader returned just before dawn, a rolled piece of blackened parchment in her hands. She set it on the ground between Kastor and Serenya without a word.
"This will take you to the Deep Vault," she said, her golden eyes flickering toward Elara. "Follow it exactly. Step where it tells you to step, and nowhere else."
Kastor crouched, inspecting the strange parchment. The markings weren't ink — they looked etched, burned into the surface. The lines shifted faintly, like heat ripples in the air.
Serenya frowned. "It's alive."
The woman's mouth curled slightly. "In a manner of speaking."
Before they could ask more, the leader added: "Your trial has been passed, but the price is not yet paid."
Kastor stiffened. "We had a deal—"
"I honor my deals," the woman said, stepping closer. "But the Ashfire is a door, traveler. When you opened it, something walked through."
Elara felt a cold shiver crawl up her spine. "What… walked through?"
The woman's eyes lingered on her for a heartbeat longer than necessary. "That is not for me to answer. But it will find you, sooner than you think."
The caravan moved on, leaving the three of them alone with the blackened parchment. The wind swept fine ash across the plains, whispering against their cloaks.
Kastor shoved the map into his pack. "We keep moving. If there's a price, we'll pay it when it comes — on our terms."
Serenya shot him a sharp look. "You can't fight something you don't understand."
"We can't sit here waiting for it to strike, either," he replied, striding ahead.
Elara followed, but the Ashborn's words clung to her thoughts like smoke.
By midday, the heat on the glass plains had become oppressive, the black surface shimmering. The map led them toward a jagged rise in the distance — glass spires jutting from the ground like the bones of some colossal beast.
As they drew closer, a strange sound began to echo between the spires. At first it was faint, like wind through a cavern. Then it became unmistakable — whispers.
Kastor halted, hand going to his sword. "We're not alone."
Serenya lifted her staff, eyes scanning the shadows between the spires. "No… we are. Those voices aren't real."
Elara swallowed. "How do you know?"
"Because one of them just used my mother's voice. She's been dead ten years."
The whispers swelled, weaving together into a chorus of voices — some familiar, some alien, all speaking at once.
Kastor… you failed me.
Serenya… you will burn them all.
Elara… you are the price.
Elara's breath caught. "It knows my name."
Something moved in the reflection of the glass beside her — a dark shape with too many limbs, watching with ember eyes.
"Kastor!" she shouted, but when he turned, the thing was gone.
They pushed forward, following the shifting lines of the living map through the spires. Each turn seemed to lead them deeper into the maze, and each step made the whispers louder.
At last, the path ended in a wide clearing. In the center stood a black glass obelisk, its surface cracked and glowing faintly from within.
The whispers stopped.
Serenya stepped forward cautiously. "It's a wardstone. Old… older than the Ashborn, even."
The obelisk pulsed once, and a fissure opened along its side. From within, ash poured out — not drifting in the air, but flowing like liquid, pooling at its base.
And then the ash began to rise.
It took the shape of a tall, faceless figure, its form shifting and swirling. When it spoke, its voice was every whisper they'd heard, layered and inhuman.
"You took the fire," it said. "Now the fire takes you."
Kastor stepped in front of Elara, sword drawn. "We didn't agree to this."
"There is no agreement," the thing replied. "Only debt."
The ash surged forward, striking like a wave. Kastor slashed through it, but the blade passed harmlessly, scattering the ash only for it to reform.
Serenya slammed her staff into the ground, sending a ripple of light outward. The creature hissed, recoiling slightly. "Light," she said quickly. "It hates the light!"
Elara fumbled for the shard in her pouch. It pulsed warmly in her hands, as if recognizing the danger. Without thinking, she held it high — and the shard flared, spilling silver fire into the clearing.
The creature screamed, its voice breaking into a thousand shreds of sound, and began to unravel.
When it was gone, the shard's light faded, and Elara collapsed to her knees.
Kastor knelt beside her. "You alright?"
She nodded shakily, but Serenya was staring at her — not with concern, but with something closer to fear.
"That shard," Serenya said softly. "It's not just a relic. It's the other half of the Ashfire."
Elara's blood ran cold. "And what does that mean?"
Serenya looked toward the empty space where the creature had been. "It means the Ashborn weren't lying. Something walked through… and it's following the fire."