They didn't speak as the footsteps grew louder.
There wasn't time.
Lucien reached into his coat and handed Amara a second blade — shorter, curved, obsidian-edged. "For the ones who don't bleed," he said.
She nodded, and together they turned toward the hallway.
The first attacker came fast — a blur of motion, face masked, moving more like a creature than a man. Lucien stepped into its path and struck low, knocking it sideways into the wall. Amara followed through with a slash across the ribs. The blade sizzled against flesh. The thing screamed — high and distorted — and dropped.
Two more came behind it.
Amara barely registered them before she moved. Instinct took over. Her body remembered what her mind hadn't caught up to yet.
She ducked, spun, buried the short blade into the gut of the second figure — but it didn't fall. Its head turned toward her, eyes white and glowing.
"Marked," it rasped. "You're not supposed to awaken—"
Amara yanked the dagger out and drove it upward, silencing whatever it was.
Blood — or something darker — sprayed across the wall.
Lucien finished the third with a precise strike to the throat. Then silence.
For a second.
Then more footsteps. More voices.
"They're summoning reinforcements," Lucien said. "We can't hold the sanctum. We burn it."
"Burn what?"
"The gate," he said. "Come on."
He led her down a narrow stone stairwell she hadn't seen before. At the bottom — a hidden chamber, deep underground. Older than the brownstone above it. Older than anything that should exist beneath Manhattan.
The air buzzed.
In the center of the room stood a structure — tall, black, forged from stone that shimmered like cooled lava. Covered in symbols. Pulsing faintly.
"The Circle uses these to move between sanctums," Lucien said. "Teleportation gates. One in every major city. But if we destroy this—"
"They're trapped," Amara said.
Lucien nodded. "We buy time. Disrupt their network."
Amara stepped closer to the gate. Her hand brushed the surface.
Flames burst from her fingertips.
Lucien grabbed her wrist. "Careful—"
"I can feel it," she whispered. "It's not just a gate. It's… aware."
The symbols began to glow brighter. The gate recognized her.
Then — a crack. A voice inside her head.
"Selanar. Traitor. You should have stayed dead."
She stumbled back.
Lucien caught her. "What did it say?"
Amara didn't answer. Her heart was pounding. The voice had been ancient. Hollow. And filled with rage.
Lucien pulled out a vial of something silver and thick. "Alchemical flame. Old formula. Stick this to the core and run."
Amara moved fast. The gate seemed to pulse as she approached. The center began to ripple — like it was waking up.
Too late.
She slammed the vial into the heart of the stone. It hissed.
Then roared.
Lucien grabbed her hand. "Go!"
They ran.
Flames chased them up the stairs. The walls shook. The sanctum above began to groan under its own weight. Cracks split across the floors. Bookshelves toppled.
They burst through the front doors just as the ground buckled.
Then — the explosion.
Not fire. Light.
White, blinding, consuming light erupted from the brownstone, shooting up into the sky like a flare. Windows shattered in every direction. Power went out for three blocks. Alarms screamed.
Amara and Lucien hit the pavement and didn't stop running.
They reached the far end of the alley before collapsing behind a dumpster. Smoke and dust curled into the sky. Sirens began in the distance.
Lucien turned to her, panting.
"That," he said, "was a declaration of war."
Amara nodded slowly, wiping blood from her cheek.
"Good," she said. "I'm tired of hiding."
Three hours later, they met Madalena in an abandoned train tunnel beneath the city. She was already waiting — arms folded, expression dark.
"You moved too soon," she said.
"We didn't have a choice," Lucien replied.
"They'll retaliate," she said. "Harder. Smarter."
Amara stepped forward. "Let them. I want to see who's leading them now."
Madalena hesitated. Then nodded.
She reached into her satchel and pulled out a folder. Inside: a photograph.
Black and white. Grainy. Surveillance-style.
A woman. Tall. Cloaked. Face half-hidden, but her eyes...
Amara's stomach twisted.
She knew that face.
"She was one of us once," Madalena said. "A Flame-Bearer. Your sister, in your first life."
Lucien stiffened beside her.
"She betrayed us," Madalena continued. "And now she leads the Circle."
Amara stared down at the image.
Her blood ran cold.
"She's coming," Madalena said.
Amara didn't blink.
"Then let her."