The rain had not stopped.
It lashed Wrenmore in violent bursts, as though the sky itself were trying to wash away what had been unearthed. The streets had emptied, and even the birds had gone silent. But Clara Bennett did not sleep.
She stood before her bedroom mirror, the sigil still faintly glowing across her chest, pulsing like a second heartbeat. The brand from her dream—a dream she now knew wasn't merely a dream at all—had burned itself into her flesh. The Hollow Eye had touched her, marked her, and awakened something ancient inside.
She could feel the memory of a thousand others stirring beneath her skin.
Their fear.
Their rage.
Their knowledge.
The vessel had been chosen.
And the city beneath Wrenmore—the one she'd glimpsed in the flame-ringed dreams—was calling her by name.
Downstairs, Liam sat at the kitchen table, studying the Hollow Eye coin beneath the light of a flickering lamp. His expression was hard, jaw clenched, one hand wrapped around a steaming mug of black tea that had long since gone cold.
"You haven't said a word since you woke," he said when Clara entered.
She didn't answer at first.
Instead, she pulled back the collar of her shirt to show him the mark again.
It had changed.
Now the lines of the sigil ran deeper, almost like veins, and they shimmered faintly beneath her skin with every breath.
Liam stood immediately. "That wasn't there before."
"It's growing," Clara said. "But it doesn't hurt. It's… guiding me."
"To where?"
She reached into her coat and pulled out the old map Hargrove had found earlier—a hand-drawn chart from over a hundred years ago, outlining old mining tunnels long since sealed off. But someone had marked it in red ink—recently.
At the heart of it, deep beneath Wrenmore's northern ridge, were three words.
"The Ashen Gate."
Mr. Hargrove's library smelled like old parchment and ink-soaked regret.
He met them at the door, sleep-deprived and wild-eyed.
"You're not going there," he said flatly, even before Clara could open her mouth.
"I don't have a choice," she replied. "The Hollow Eye marked me. I've seen the gate in my dreams. I've heard the voices. Whatever's behind it—whatever lies in the city below—it's part of me now."
"You don't know what you'll find," he said.
"I know exactly what I'll find," she said, pulling a copy of The Chronicle of the Hollow Eye from her bag. She flipped to the passage marked in red ink:
"When the vessel is awakened, she must walk the path of the First Sin. Through the Ashen Gate, she will find the Second Seal. But only memory will guide her through the Forgotten City. And memory demands a price."
Hargrove stared at the page for a long time, then sighed and stepped aside.
"There's a tunnel. Hidden beneath the chapel's crypt. It was sealed during the plague years. But the Ashen Gate lies beyond it."
Liam frowned. "We go together."
Clara nodded.
But even as they prepared—gathering torches, supplies, and the sacred relics from the Blood Rite—she felt a growing certainty in her gut.
The Hollow Eye had not sent the letter to warn her.
They had sent it to summon her.
The crypt was colder this time.
Colder than death.
The deeper they descended, the more the walls seemed to pulse—alive with memories long forgotten. Whispers tickled the edges of Clara's mind, names she didn't know pressing against her thoughts like water against glass.
The sealed doorway at the end of the tunnel was marked with three carved circles, and Clara's hand fit perfectly into the center.
When she touched it, the stone cracked open with a shuddering breath.
The Ashen Gate awaited.
The passage beyond was made of bone.
Not carved stone, not rotting wood—bone.
Spines fused into arches. Ribs forming twisted staircases. And a path lit by glowing moss that pulsed in rhythm with Clara's heartbeat.
Liam's voice was hushed. "This isn't just architecture. This is a body."
Clara nodded. "The city is alive."
They descended for what felt like hours. Time unraveled around them—watches stopped, lanterns flickered without reason, and the air itself grew thicker, filled with ash and memory.
And then, suddenly… the tunnel opened.
And before them lay a city carved into the earth.
The Forgotten City.
It stretched in every direction, buildings formed from petrified roots and flesh-stone, towers grown from the ground like twisted trees. Faint lights shimmered from windows like eyes peering through mist. Statues lined the streets—figures in robes, all with hollow circles carved into their foreheads.
Liam whispered, "This place was never meant for human eyes."
Clara stepped forward, her voice steady. "But it was built for mine."
They walked for what felt like an eternity, moving through empty courtyards and broken temples. The city had no sound—only the echo of breath and the soft thud of their footsteps.
Then, a bell rang.
Deep.
Ancient.
Clara froze.
The air shifted.
And then… from the mist… they came.
Figures robed in black, their faces covered by masks shaped like open eyes. Dozens of them, gliding silently from the shadows, forming a circle around Clara and Liam.
Clara raised her hands.
"I know what I am," she said. "I know why I was chosen."
One of the masked figures stepped forward. Her voice was velvet and iron.
"Do you?"
Clara met the woman's gaze. "I'm the vessel of memory. The keeper of the seals. I'm here to find the Second."
The woman removed her mask.
Her face was covered in sigils—burned into flesh. Each mark pulsed with faint light.
"You bear the brand. But the vessel must prove herself."
Clara didn't flinch. "Then show me what I must do."
The woman extended a hand.
"In the heart of the city lies the Pool of Echoes. It holds the memory of the Second Seal. But to see it, you must give up your own. The pool will take your most precious memory… and replace it with truth."
Liam stepped forward. "You can't ask her to do that."
But Clara already knew what she would choose.
She turned to Liam, eyes glistening.
"If I don't do this, the seal stays hidden. The last will rise. Everything ends. I have to know what came before—what the Hollow Eye has hidden, what my family has forgotten."
Liam took her hand.
She squeezed it once, then stepped into the circle.
The Pool of Echoes shimmered like mercury—silver and black, swirling with reflections that weren't her own. Clara knelt beside it and placed her hands into the liquid.
Cold fire raced up her arms.
A voice filled her head.
"What do you give?"
She whispered, "The first time I felt safe."
There was a pause.
Then it was gone.
Clara gasped.
She could remember names, places, her history—but the warmth of that memory was gone. She remembered her father's embrace, but couldn't feel what it meant. She remembered the moment Liam held her after the Blood Rite… but it felt hollow.
And then—
The vision came.
Flames.
A temple.
A woman with Clara's face, cloaked in black, standing at the center of a ritual. Thousands watched. The Second Seal—an orb of obsidian—hovered above her hand.
"We tried to lock her away. But the Third was always the strongest. And she is coming."
Clara collapsed.
The vision faded.
But she remembered the location.
Beneath the Temple of the Rootless Tree.
That was where the Second Seal had been buried.
And someone had already begun to dig it up.