They lit no fire.
Instead, the ancient runes of the tomb glowed faintly—casting dim gold light over their weary faces. Dust hung in the air like ash, disturbed only by the soft sounds of bandages unrolling and armor being unbuckled.
Kael sat apart, staring at his scarred hands.
He had seen himself kill. Not enemies. Not monsters. But people who had once loved him.
He had commanded the Harbingers to burn temples. Entire cities. Not for war. For grief.
"Kael," Sarya said softly, kneeling beside him. She offered him a flask. He took it without a word.
"That memory…" she continued. "I was there, wasn't I? Not just some vision."
He nodded slowly. "You were more than there. You were the one who tried to stop me."
Nerra leaned against the wall, arms folded. One of her ribs was wrapped tightly with cloth.
"What did she do?"
Kael's voice was low. "She chose mercy. I chose rage." His gaze met Sarya's. "And I think… you died because you refused to become what I did."
Sarya trembled, but didn't look away.
"I've had dreams," she admitted. "Before I met you. Of fire. Of watching you walk into it, smiling. Like it didn't hurt."
Kael blinked. "That's not a dream."
Nerra shifted. "Then what is it?"
Kael stood slowly, his body still aching.
"A fragment of a soul. A tether. Someone sealed pieces of our past into living vessels." He turned toward Sarya. "You're not just marked by fate. You're carrying me."
Sarya blinked. "Then why am I still me?"
Kael gave her a small, almost broken smile. "Because you're stronger than I was."
Nerra rolled her eyes. "Touching. But that flaming thing is still out there, and I doubt it's looking for therapy."
"It can't enter here," Kael said, looking up. "Not yet. This place was sanctified by the Old Flame. As long as the seal holds, we're safe."
Silence fell.
They ate quietly. Dried meat. Stolen bread. Wine that had long since soured. It didn't matter.
For a few hours, they were only human again.
But later that night, when both Kael and Nerra had dozed off, Sarya sat upright.
Her eyes glowed faintly.
And a voice—her own, but older, deeper—spoke into the stillness:
"One flame has returned. Two more must awaken. The Phoenix will burn or rise."
Then her eyes dimmed.
She fell back asleep, unaware.
Outside, the Harbinger waited—sitting at the edge of the ravine like a corpse watching the stars.