The morning sun filtered through the broken archways of the old cathedral ruins, casting long beams of golden light across the cracked stone floor. Liora sat at the edge of one such beam, legs crossed, her cloak draped loosely over her shoulders. She hadn't slept—couldn't sleep. Her eyes were red from exhaustion, but her mind was too restless to allow her peace. The encounter with the shadowed figure still played over and over in her head, like an itch she couldn't scratch.
She turned her gaze toward her palm, opening it slowly.
There it was again—that strange pulse.
It was faint, just beneath the skin, a dull throb that wasn't quite painful but impossible to ignore. Her magic had changed. Something had been unlocked, some door flung open deep inside her soul. But the price of that awakening… she didn't even know the full extent of it yet.
A low grunt drew her attention. Across the clearing, Elias—her reluctant companion these past few weeks—stirred beneath his makeshift blanket of furs and ash-dusted cloth. His shirt was half-unbuttoned, the fabric sticking to a fresh scar that sliced across his ribs. A souvenir from the last skirmish with the Bonewalkers.
"Couldn't sleep either?" he asked groggily, rubbing a hand across his face.
Liora shook her head. "Didn't try."
He sat up, stretching his arms with a pained groan. "You've been quiet since last night."
"Just thinking."
He gave a half-laugh. "You? Thinking? Must be serious."
She offered him a weak smile but didn't reply.
Elias caught the look in her eyes and let the joke die. He stood slowly, walking over to her, boots crunching on old stone. When he sat beside her, she didn't move away, and that said enough.
"You saw something in that ruin," he said gently, not prying, just offering space.
"I released something," she whispered, her voice quieter than the wind rustling the high grass around the ruins. "Something ancient. Something… hungry."
Elias frowned. "Did it speak to you?"
"It didn't need to. Its presence was enough to drown me." She hesitated. "It showed me the souls trapped in that place. They were all once like me—mages, summoners, necromancers—trying to control what couldn't be tamed."
"And now?" he asked.
She turned her gaze to the horizon, where the sun peeked over the jagged outline of a mountain range. "Now I think I'm next."
Elias didn't argue. He just reached over and placed a hand on her shoulder, grounding her in the moment. The silence between them felt like an unspoken pact. Neither had answers. Neither knew where this path would lead. But neither would abandon the other to it.
After a while, Liora broke the silence again.
"I saw my mother."
That got his full attention. "What?"
"In the visions. In the ruin. She was young… younger than I ever saw her. And powerful. She stood before the same altar I did, speaking to the same entity." Liora's voice faltered. "I think she made a pact."
Elias's brows knitted together. "But she never told you. Never warned you."
"She died before she could," Liora said. "Or maybe she thought she could protect me from it if she stayed silent."
She could still remember the way her mother used to watch her—like she was both proud and terrified of her. Always urging her to study more healing than summoning. Always flinching when she practiced necromantic incantations, even the harmless ones.
"Do you think it runs in your blood?" Elias asked after a moment.
"I don't think it ever left," she replied. "Whatever she made a pact with… it marked me too. Maybe even before I was born."
The idea chilled her, but it made sense now. Why her magic had always come so easily. Why shadows responded to her like an old friend. Why death never really seemed… final.
She stood, brushing the dust from her robes. "We can't linger here. The energy I released—it'll draw others. I felt it ripple across the aether like a fire signal. Necromancers, warlocks, even the Oathbound. They'll come looking."
Elias rose as well. "Then we move east, toward the old city ruins. We'll lose them in the collapsed quarters if it comes to that."
"No," Liora said firmly. "We head north."
His brow furrowed. "North? That's toward the Ghost Spine. It's suicide."
"It's where I'll find the rest of the truth," she said. "There's a tower hidden in the frost. It used to belong to the first of our kind—the one who founded the Ash Circle."
Elias went quiet. "That's just a story."
"So was the ruin. Until I walked through it."
He studied her for a long moment, then gave a tired nod. "Alright. We'll go north. But I hope you're ready to face what's waiting there."
She met his gaze and, for the first time in days, felt something close to conviction spark inside her.
"I am."
As they gathered their things, Liora's mind drifted once more to the memories stirred by the ruin—memories not her own. Her mother, standing tall in front of a ring of fire. A voice in the dark whispering names she didn't understand. A kiss stolen in the chaos of war, the taste of blood and magic on their lips.
That last vision lingered, sharper than the others.
A man with storm-grey eyes. Hands calloused by battle. The way he had held her mother—desperate, reverent. It wasn't just magic that bound them. It was love.
And then, his body falling. Betrayed. Sacrificed.
Liora didn't know who he was yet, but she intended to find out.
The truth wasn't just in the ruins or the cold northern tower. It was in the bloodline that had shaped her destiny before she ever drew her first breath.
And now, that destiny was stirring