The fire had been cold.
That was the first thing Elira remembered when she closed her eyes. Not the heat, not the smoke — but the chill. A bitter frost clinging to her skin as the world around her turned to flame. That memory returned in pieces as she held the letter between her fingers.
They burned me to keep you quiet.
The words repeated in her head like an echo from another life. Who had written it? Marian? Someone else? The same person sending Ash the hidden messages? It was impossible to tell. And yet… the handwriting was as familiar as her own reflection.
Ash leaned over the counter beside her, his brows drawn tight in concentration. "We have to assume someone's watching."
"You think she was being followed?" Elira asked.
"No. I think we are."
A chill ran down her spine. "But why?"
He looked at her, eyes serious. "Because if we remember — really remember — we become dangerous. And there are people who'd do anything to keep the past buried."
Elira carefully folded the letter and slipped it into the back of the second journal. Her hands were steady, but her heart raced. "Then we need to know what they're hiding."
Ash pulled a chair closer, setting both journals side by side on the counter. "I think these two books belong to the same story. Different tellers, same fire."
He opened Marian's journal to the page with the line: She will not remember until the fire touches her twice.
Elira stared at the line, realization dawning.
"I had a nightmare a week ago," she whispered. "It wasn't just a dream. I smelled smoke. I heard someone call my name."
Ash looked at her sharply. "And you didn't tell me?"
"I didn't understand what it was," she said, voice thin. "But now I think… that was the first touch. And last night? That letter? That was the second."
Ash flipped through the other journal rapidly, searching for something. He stopped near the middle and tapped the page.
> When the second flame rises, memory follows. Guard it well, for memory is the first weapon they will try to take from you.
"They're not just hiding the truth," Ash said. "They're stealing it."
The shop felt suddenly too small, too dark.
Elira crossed to the door and locked it, drawing the blinds shut. "We need to leave."
Ash tilted his head. "Leave the shop?"
"Leave the city," she said. "There's more out there. This — this is just the spark."
Ash hesitated, then nodded. "I know a place. Marian used to take me there when I was a child. A cabin in the woods, far from all this."
Elira grabbed her bag, stuffing the journals and letter inside. "We go tonight."
As she reached for her coat, the fire alarm in the shop suddenly began to wail — shrill and piercing. Both of them froze. Smoke curled from beneath the back door.
"No," Ash whispered. "Not again."
They bolted through the back hallway, where the old storage room was already thick with smoke. Flames licked the walls, devouring the shelves.
"Out the side!" Elira coughed, grabbing Ash's sleeve.
They kicked open the emergency exit and stumbled into the alley, smoke billowing behind them. The cold air cut through the chaos like a blade.
Ash turned to look back once.
The bookshop — their place — was burning.
Again.
Just like before.
And just like before, Elira knew something wasn't right.
This fire hadn't started on its own.