The chamber of the Hollow Heart had grown deathly still.
Eira stood at its center, her palm still tingling from where it had touched the crystal. The mark it left glowed faintly—an arcane sigil now etched into her skin, curving across her palm like a brand born of ancient bloodlines. Her breath was slow and even, but inside, her mind was spiraling.
Lucien hadn't let go of her hand.
"You're shaking," he whispered, voice taut.
"I'm fine," she said. It wasn't entirely true.
Valtherion watched from the edge of the platform, his expression veiled but solemn. "The seal has acknowledged you. There's no going back now."
The walls of the chamber murmured with a low, distant hum—like a thousand voices whispering from the bones of the city. The Hollow Heart had begun to stir, and the ancient magic that once slept was now shifting awake.
Lucien's hand dropped from hers slowly. "And what now? What did you awaken?"
Eira looked between the two men. "Not the Voidborn—yet. I made a connection, not a release. But the Heart… it's no longer dormant. And I saw things. Visions I can't explain."
"What kind of visions?" Valtherion asked.
"I saw… a throne made of ash. A tower that pierced the sky. And a woman wrapped in black fire who called herself the First Bride."
Valtherion's eyes narrowed.
Lucien stepped forward. "That doesn't sound like a memory."
"It wasn't," she murmured. "It was a warning."
The city was reacting. The old wards etched into the walls flared softly, and beneath their feet, the stone groaned as though shifting from a long sleep. Magic moved through the bones of Valtherion's palace, deeper than even Lucien had ever felt before.
"We need to leave," he said. "Now. That surge—it'll draw attention."
Valtherion nodded. "He's right. The lower city will feel this awakening. Not all who dwell here are allies."
Eira gave one last look at the Hollow Heart. "Will it be safe?"
"For now," Valtherion said. "It won't fully awaken unless you allow it. But from here on, the city will recognize you—and it will test you."
Eira turned to follow them out of the chamber, the heaviness of what she'd just experienced wrapping itself around her like a second skin. Her feet moved, but her mind lingered behind—on the visions, the memories, and the realization that there was no longer a way out. She was the key. She always had been.
They walked in silence through the winding corridors of the palace. The torches flickered strangely as Eira passed, their flames bending in her direction, as if pulled by some invisible tether.
Lucien noticed it too. "You're… different now."
"I feel it," she admitted. "Like something's watching from inside me."
Valtherion's voice echoed behind them. "That's the Heart's influence. You've become part of the seal itself. It sees through you."
Lucien stopped in his tracks, his jaw tense. "So what—she's some kind of vessel now?"
Eira looked back at him. "Lucien—"
"No," he said, voice sharper than usual. "This was supposed to be a path to understanding—not something that takes her apart piece by piece."
Valtherion's gaze darkened. "You knew the risk when you followed her here."
Lucien rounded on him. "Don't act like this was all noble. You wanted her to take that step. You've been pushing for it since she arrived."
"I've done what's necessary," Valtherion said. "She needed to see the truth."
"I am right here, you know," Eira cut in, her voice hard. "Don't talk about me like I'm some fragile relic that needs protecting or controlling."
They both fell silent.
She moved ahead of them, jaw set.
As they climbed toward the upper halls, a low rumble echoed through the palace walls. It wasn't magical—it was physical.
A tremor.
Lucien drew his sword. "That's not a coincidence."
Eira turned. "You think someone's coming?"
"Something's awakened," Valtherion corrected. "You've drawn the attention of the lower city's guardians. They will want to test your claim."
Eira frowned. "More ancient constructs?"
"Worse," he said. "Ancient oaths. Creatures bound by the founders to protect the seals. Now that the Hollow Heart knows you… so do they."
As if summoned by his words, a thunderous crash rang out from beyond the palace walls. The stone beneath their feet trembled again, and in the distance, a roar echoed—long, guttural, and inhuman.
Lucien cursed. "We're running out of time."
They emerged into the moonlit courtyard moments later, only to see the edge of the sky pulsing with a strange, flickering light—red and gold like fireflies trapped in a whirlwind.
"What is that?" Eira asked.
"A signal," Valtherion said. "They know the key has returned."
The city below had changed. The outer walls shimmered with spectral wards, and far to the east, a towering figure of armor rose from a slumbering post—its eyes burning with flame.
Eira's heart stuttered.
"The guardians," she whispered. "They're real."
"And they will not bow easily," Valtherion said.
Eira's shoulders squared. "Then I'll face them. I won't run from this."
Lucien gave her a look, unreadable. "Even if it costs you everything?"
She met his eyes. "If I don't try, it will cost everyone more."
The fire in the distance grew stronger. From below, a sound like cracking ice and iron reached their ears—another guardian rising, the city stirring to life in ways no one had seen in centuries.
Valtherion turned toward her.
"There's more you need to learn," he said. "About the Weavers. About the war Vaelaria began… and never finished."
Eira took a deep breath. "Then tell me. Teach me."
He nodded once. "Tomorrow. Tonight, rest. For what comes next… will break you before it builds you."
Lucien stayed by her side as Valtherion faded into the halls again.
Eira looked toward the horizon, toward the flickering fire of the awakened guardian.
She whispered under her breath, "Let them come."
And the Hollow Heart, deep in the dark, pulsed in response.