The fractured clearing was quiet—eerily so. Birds no longer sang, and even the wind held its breath.
Ava stood in the center of the broken shrine, her coat whipping behind her, glowing runes still fading from her fingertips. Around her, the remnants of the corrupted beast they had just slain smoldered in violet ash. The final pulse of dark energy had been snuffed out, and with it, the fracture's heart.
But something felt… wrong.
Nicholas crouched by the shattered altar, his claws glowing faintly. "That should've been the last one," he said, voice low. "There's nothing left in the leyline."
Ash stepped up beside Ava, his hand brushing hers for a moment. "It was too easy."
Adam landed softly behind them, wings folding as he walked into the clearing. "This wasn't a natural fracture. Look." He pointed at the stone behind the altar, where a symbol had been carved—not by time, but by hand.
Ava approached it slowly. The sigil was intricate, layered in spirals and jagged lines, but at its center was a symbol she knew well.
A crown. A broken chain. A flame curled like a serpent.
Her breath caught. "This is… the Crest of Virelia."
Sil, who had been quietly tending to the beast's wounds near the edge of the clearing, looked up. "Virelia? But that kingdom fell before even your reign."
"It was my ancestor's seat," Ava murmured. "The bloodline I come from… we buried this crest. No one alive should know it still exists."
Ash stiffened. "Then someone does. And they're using it."
Nicholas growled softly, running a clawed hand through his hair. "So all of this—these fractures—they weren't just random wild magic?"
"No," Ava said, stepping back. "Someone is making them."
There was silence. The realization settled heavily in the air like the moment before a storm.
"Then we've been cleaning up someone's mess," Adam said grimly. "Not stopping the cause."
Ava's mind raced. Someone had access to ancient symbols, forgotten bloodlines, and magic potent enough to rip holes in the leyline itself. That kind of power wasn't simply born. It was taught… or inherited.
And worse, they were hiding in the shadows, letting others take the fall.
She turned to her companions, her gaze sharp. "We're going to the Emberhall. Rest, resupply, and regroup. Then we trace this crest—find out who's behind it."
Ash tilted his head. "And if it leads back to your own bloodline?"
Ava's smile was cold. "Then I'll burn it clean."
That evening, as the group returned to the city, Ava couldn't shake the tension from her shoulders. The streets were lit by lanterns and magic-light, but even in the glow, she felt a shadow pressing in.
They passed vendors, nobles, mercenaries. Normal life moved on—unaware of what had nearly spilled into their world.
Inside the Emberhall, she sat at the hearth while her companions rested. The beast dozed near the fire. Sil leaned against her shoulder, her breath soft. Adam was sharpening his blade, and Nicholas whispered to Ash across the room.
But Ava was elsewhere. Staring into the flame, heart tight with unease.
A flicker of movement caught her eye—a scroll, rolled neatly, had appeared on the table before her. No flash of magic. No messenger.
Only a single thread of black silk tied around it.
She unrolled it slowly, scanning the elegant handwriting.
"You close one wound and open another. She walks the path exactly as we saw. The storm will break at your feet, Queen of Chains. The fractures were only the beginning."
No name. No seal. No origin.
But a chill slid down her spine like ice down a blade.
She burned the message in the flame, watched the ashes scatter, and stood slowly.
The room quieted as her companions noticed.
"We leave at dawn," she said. "No more chasing shadows. It's time we tear them into the light."
Ash nodded. "Do we know where we're going?"
Ava's eyes gleamed, the fire reflected in them like prophecy. "Virelia. What's left of it."
Final line of Chapter 12:
In the depths of the crumbling shrine, beneath blood and roots, another sigil glowed faintly. Watched by unseen eyes, it pulsed once—like a heartbeat—then vanished into the dark.