The air was thick with smoke and the lingering echo of ancient power. Where the Shade Warden had fallen, the ground remained scorched black, the stones cracked in a jagged spiral around the blast. Mara stood at the center, blood trickling from her lip, the blade still glowing faintly in her trembling hand.
No one spoke.
Elira was the first to move, kneeling beside Mara and placing a hand on her shoulder. "It's over," she said softly.
But Mara knew better.
This wasn't the end.
It wasn't even the middle.
She could feel it—the Seal still pulsed like a heartbeat gone wrong. The Warden's death hadn't quenched its hunger. It had fed it. Strength surged through her veins in a way that didn't feel like her own. It frightened her, how easy it had been to unleash that final strike. The power hadn't come from courage—it had come from desperation. And somewhere deep inside, a darker voice had cheered when the Shade Warden fell.
Mara turned away from her companions and walked toward the ruins of the temple behind the battlefield. What remained of its arched entryway was buried beneath ivy and cracked stone, but the symbols etched above the doorway were unmistakable.
The Eye of Ilyra.
This had been one of her temples. Or at least… one of the Empress's.
Adrian caught up to her. "That thing knew you. Knew your bloodline."
Mara nodded.
"We need answers," he continued. "No more guessing. No more running blind."
"I agree," she said. "We go in."
Cormac grunted from behind them. "If this place belonged to Ilyra, it's likely trapped. Or worse."
"Let it be," Mara said. Her voice had a steel edge now. "We'll face it."
They descended the steps into the temple. The scent of damp earth and ancient ash clung to the stone as they moved deeper into the underground corridors. Torches mounted on the walls sputtered to life one by one as they passed, lighting the way with a flickering blue glow.
"I'm not doing that," Elira muttered, glancing at the flames.
"The Seal is," Mara replied.
Deeper still they went, past murals of war and worship. The art showed Ilyra in various forms—warrior, ruler, goddess. She was beautiful, terrible, untouchable. In one image, she stood atop a mountain of bodies, her eyes glowing like suns. In another, she offered a child to a column of fire. A sacrifice. Or an inheritance?
The final mural showed her falling—stabbed through the chest by a silver spear held by a man whose face had been scratched away. Her wings, massive and made of stars, crumbled as she fell into a pit lined with chains.
"She wasn't defeated," Elira whispered. "She was… sealed."
Mara touched the painting. The stone was warm under her fingertips. "They didn't kill her. They bound her."
"Which means," Adrian said grimly, "the Seal inside you—"
"Is a piece of her prison," Mara finished.
They reached a final chamber, circular and silent. In the center stood a pedestal holding a single scroll, wrapped in dark leather. The walls were lined with shelves—empty, except for dust and claw marks.
"This is no archive," Elira said. "It's a vault."
Mara stepped toward the scroll. The closer she got, the louder the whispers became in her mind. Not voices, exactly—more like thoughts that didn't belong. Memories bleeding through her skin.
Her hand trembled as she reached out.
"Wait," Adrian said. "Let me check—"
But she already had it.
The moment her fingers brushed the scroll, the room changed.
Light vanished.
Heat rose.
And Mara was somewhere else.
She stood in a throne room unlike anything she had ever seen. The walls shimmered with starlight, and the floor was made of moving silver, like liquid mirrors. At the far end sat a throne carved from bone and flame, and upon it sat a woman with Mara's face—but older. Sharper. Colder.
"I've been waiting," the woman said.
Mara tried to speak but couldn't. Her voice had vanished.
"You want to know what you are," the woman continued. "What it means to bear the Seal. I will show you."
Images tore through Mara's mind—memories not her own.
The First War.
Ilyra, crowned in starlight, leading armies of night against the Dominion of Dawn.
The Blood Trials.
Children sacrificed, forged into vessels.
The Betrayal.
A council of gods and mortals uniting to trap the Empress.
The Binding.
Seven Seals created, hidden across realms. Only one survived intact. The one inside Mara.
"You are the last," Ilyra said. "The final tether. When you break, I return."
"No," Mara managed to whisper. "You're dead."
The throne room began to collapse.
Ilyra smiled.
"Then why do you dream my dreams?"
—
Mara awoke on the floor, gasping. Elira held her, eyes wide with fear.
"You were gone," she said. "Not just unconscious. Gone."
Mara sat up. "I know what I am now."
Adrian leaned in. "Tell us."
"I'm not just her descendant," Mara said. "I'm her prison. The Seal wasn't meant to protect the world from her power. It is her power. It is her. And I'm the last thing holding it back."
Cormac cursed.
"So what do we do?" Elira asked.
"We find the others," Mara said. "The other Seals. If we don't… Ilyra will wake."
"And if we do?" Adrian asked.
Mara looked at the scroll in her hands. "Then maybe I can stop her before she consumes me."
She stood. There was no more hesitation in her voice.
"We go to Aelthar next," she said. "The second Seal is there. And we're not the only ones looking."
The journey wasn't over.
It was just beginning.