The cold still clung to Aira's skin.
Though the power from the first seal had fused into her, she felt hollow—like a vessel barely holding back a tidal wave. Her steps were lighter, her senses sharper, and her heartbeat no longer matched the rhythm of a normal human's.
Lucien didn't speak much after they left Vareth's ruins. He kept glancing at her as if trying to decide whether the girl he had traveled with was still the same.
By nightfall, they reached the edge of the Whispering Vale.
It was a cursed place, known in stories for swallowing travelers whole with illusions of their own regrets. But tonight, it was silent—too silent.
Aira stopped suddenly. "Someone's here."
Lucien placed his hand on his sword. "What do you sense?"
"Not danger," she said, stepping forward slowly. "A presence. Young. Scared. But… ancient."
They found the child sitting in the middle of a stone circle, surrounded by bones and flowers that hadn't withered despite the cold.
He was no older than seven. Pale, with hair the color of dried wheat and eyes that glowed faintly blue. His hands were stained with ink and blood. And when he saw Aira, he didn't flinch.
"I've been waiting," the boy said softly. "The storm has returned."
Lucien stiffened.
Aira stepped forward. "Who are you?"
"I have many names," the child whispered. "But the stars call me Sil. I was born the day the Seals were forged. I am the last Oracle."
"An Oracle?" Lucien echoed.
Sil nodded. "My mind holds the pattern of what will be and what must not be. The day the second seal breaks, the sky will burn red, and the False Queen will awaken."
Aira's voice shook. "The False Queen?"
Sil turned his head slowly toward her. "She is the one who tried to kill you before you were born. She wore a crown of thorns and bathed in innocent blood. When you rise, so will she."
"But why now?" Lucien asked. "Why are the seals weakening?"
Sil looked at them with hollow sorrow. "Because the world is dying. And to save it, the world must end. You are the spark, Aira. And the Second Seal's guardian has already awakened."
"Where is it?" Aira asked.
Sil pointed east—toward a dark mountain rising in the distance. Smoke curled from its peak.
"Inside Mount Rasshen. The Guardian of Bone and Ash waits. She will test your resolve. If you are weak… she will destroy you."
Lucien stepped forward. "Then we go together."
But Sil's expression darkened. "You can't."
Aira frowned. "Why?"
The boy's voice trembled like the wind. "Because only one heart may enter the Second Gate. If two enter, both will perish. And Aira… if you fail, the Guardian will devour the part of you that still remembers love."
Aira looked at Lucien. He looked back, jaw clenched.
"You know I'll follow you anyway."
"I know," she said, eyes soft. "But I can't lose you."
She bent down to Sil. "Will I see you again?"
"No," he said quietly. "But I'll be in your dreams… when the Third Seal calls."
With that, the child began to fade, as if dissolving into air. His last words echoed as a whisper only she could hear:
> "The world fears what you are, Aira. But only you can choose what you become—monster, or miracle."
Aira stood frozen as the last trace of Sil vanished into the wind, her hands curled into trembling fists. The child's words clung to her mind like shadow, wrapping her heart in a chilling truth.
Lucien reached for her, but she stepped forward instead—toward the path that led to Mount Rasshen.
"We'll camp at the base tonight," she said quietly. "I'll go alone at dawn."
Lucien hesitated. "What if you don't come back?"
She looked over her shoulder, the moon casting a pale glow across her face. "Then let the stars tell the world I tried."
They made camp beneath a jagged cliff. The air grew thick with the scent of sulfur. Mount Rasshen loomed above, its peak coughing smoke like a beast half-asleep.
Aira sat alone by the fire while Lucien kept watch nearby, sharpening his blade, not because he needed to—but because it distracted him from the ache in his chest.
Sleep never came.
When dawn broke, Aira walked to the edge of a blackened path leading up the mountain. It was as if the land had died centuries ago. No birds. No life.
Lucien met her there.
"I should say something," he said quietly. "Something brave. Or comforting."
Aira offered him a smile, soft and fleeting. "Just say you'll be here when I return."
"I'll be here. Even if it takes forever."
With a deep breath, she turned and began the climb alone.
The journey up Mount Rasshen was nothing like she imagined. The ground pulsed beneath her boots, and whispers laced the wind—unintelligible at first, then clearer with each step.
> You are not worthy. You carry death in your bones. Turn back, broken child.
But she didn't stop.
At the summit, she reached a gate carved into the mountainside—ancient and glowing with blue runes. It opened without a sound.
Beyond the gate lay a chamber made of obsidian and ash. At its center stood a tall figure—shrouded in a cloak of burning feathers, her face veiled by cracked bone. Her eyes were pits of flame.
The Guardian of the Second Seal.
"You are late," the guardian said, voice like grinding stone. "And far too mortal."
Aira squared her shoulders. "I'm not here to prove I'm perfect. I'm here to prove I'm enough."
The Guardian stepped forward, raising a hand. "Then face your trial. Show me who you are when all illusions fall."
In a flash, the chamber spun—and Aira found herself standing in a memory.
Her mother. Her true mother. Screaming as soldiers tore her away. Aira, hidden in a basket, watching it happen.
Then the scene twisted.
Lucien—lying in a pool of blood, reaching for her, whispering her name.
"No—" she cried out.
"You cannot protect them all," the Guardian's voice echoed around her. "You will lose. Again. And again. Do you still choose this path?"
Aira dropped to her knees, tears burning her cheeks. But even through the pain, she rose.
"Yes," she whispered. "I choose it. Even if it kills me."
The vision shattered.
The Guardian stepped back, and a second seal—an obsidian crystal etched with glowing runes—rose from the floor.
"You have passed," the Guardian said. "But beware, daughter of flame. You are not the only one waking."
The seal shot toward Aira's chest. It pierced her skin—but she didn't bleed.
Instead, her eyes glowed with molten light, and her heartbeat thundered with new power.
The Second Seal was hers.