They surfaced beyond the border at dusk.
The land here felt wrong in a way Elowen could not name. The air lay heavy and still, as though it had forgotten how to move. Blackened trees rose like skeletons from cracked earth, their branches twisted and reaching. Even the wind seemed reluctant to touch the place.
Kael stopped at the edge of a shallow ravine.
"There," he said.
Elowen followed his gaze.
The ruin crouched at the center of the wasteland, half-buried and broken, its stone walls carved with symbols so old they had been worn nearly smooth. What remained radiated a low, constant thrum that made her blood stir uneasily.
Her chest tightened.
"It knows us," she whispered.
Kael nodded. "It knows you."
They crossed the ravine in silence. With every step closer, the bond grew heavier, less volatile but more insistent. Not pain. Pressure. Expectation.
The entrance yawned open like a wound in the earth.
The moment Elowen crossed the threshold, the ruin woke.
Light flared along the walls, pale and colorless, illuminating carvings that depicted fire bending to kneeling figures, blood poured willingly into stone, and two shapes bound together by lines etched deep into flesh.
Elowen's breath caught. "This is not a sanctuary."
"No," Kael agreed. "It is a forge."
The door slammed shut behind them.
Stone shifted and sealed, cutting off the outside world completely. The bond surged sharply, then settled, humming low and steady.
Elowen turned slowly, dread pooling in her stomach. "You said this place could teach us how to survive."
"I said it could teach us," Kael corrected. "Survival was an assumption."
The air rippled.
A presence gathered at the center of the chamber, not solid but unmistakably aware. The light dimmed, shadows pooling as something ancient and vast regarded them.
Two, it whispered, the sound echoing inside Elowen's bones.
Late, but intact.
Her knees nearly buckled.
Kael stepped closer to her, his shoulder brushing hers. The contact steadied her, grounded her.
"We seek knowledge," Kael said, his voice controlled. "About the bond."
You seek permission, the presence replied.
Denied.
The chamber shifted violently. Stone groaned. Heat spiked as fire bled from the walls, coiling toward them.
Elowen reacted without thinking.
She raised her hand.
The fire stopped.
It did not disappear. It bowed.
The presence stilled.
Ah, it murmured. The Ashbearer wakes.
Kael stared at her, shock flashing openly across his face.
Elowen's heart raced, but the fear was different now. Sharper. Clearer. She could feel the power responding to her will, not explosively but precisely.
"You do not own us," she said, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. "Speak, or release us."
Silence pressed down.
Then the presence laughed, a sound like stone grinding against itself.
Bold, it said. As your blood always was.
The chamber brightened, revealing a dais etched with a shallow basin at its center. Dried blood stained the grooves.
The bond was never meant to make you equal, the presence continued. One commands. One channels. That is the truth the crown buried.
Elowen's stomach twisted.
She looked at Kael.
Slowly, understanding dawned in his eyes.
"You are not my anchor," he said quietly. "I am yours."
The bond shifted violently at the words, power rolling outward in a controlled wave. Elowen staggered as sensation flooded her, not pain but weight, authority settling into her bones.
"No," she whispered. "That is not what I want."
Desire is irrelevant, the presence replied. Function is law.
Kael dropped to one knee.
Not in submission.
In instinct.
The sight hit Elowen like a blow.
"Get up," she said sharply.
Kael looked up at her, something raw and reverent in his expression. "You feel it too."
"Yes," she said, panic threading through her voice. "And I hate it."
The presence stirred again, pleased.
The first choice must be made, it intoned. Blood freely taken or blood freely given.
A figure stepped from the shadows.
An Inquisitor.
Alive.
Bound by chains of light that dug into flesh already carved with sigils. His eyes widened when he saw Elowen.
"Ashbearer," he rasped. "Kill her."
The command flared through the bond, sharp and invasive.
Elowen recoiled. "He is trying to control me."
Kael surged to his feet, fire blazing. "You will not touch her."
Not him, the presence corrected calmly. Her.
The pressure intensified, unbearable now. The bond screamed, demanding action. Resolution.
Elowen looked at the Inquisitor.
At the man who had hunted her bloodline.
At the chains binding him, keeping him alive only to test her.
Her hand shook.
Then it stilled.
"I choose," she said.
She stepped forward and placed her palm against the Inquisitor's chest.
Power flowed.
Not fire.
Silence.
The man collapsed, lifeless, his sigils dimming to ash.
Elowen staggered back, breath coming in ragged gasps.
She had not reacted.
She had decided.
The presence hummed, satisfied.
It begins, it whispered. The Ashbearer claims her first life.
Kael caught Elowen as her legs gave out, his arms locking around her without hesitation. She clutched his tunic, shaking violently.
"I killed him," she whispered.
"Yes," Kael said softly. "And you did not lose yourself."
Her breath shuddered. "That scares me more."
He held her tighter.
In that moment, Kael Morren understood the truth he could no longer deny.
He would burn kingdoms to keep her from becoming a monster.
And if that failed, he would stand beside her anyway.
Because the ruin had spoken.
And it had chosen her.