They traveled in silence the next morning, the forest thick with mist that clung to their cloaks and whispered secrets Nova couldn't understand. Each step seemed to draw her closer to something—something ancient and waiting.
Lucien led the way, eyes scanning for danger, one hand always near his sword. Nova followed, her fingers brushing the Chronicle of Cinders that was tucked inside her satchel. The voice of the Shadow emissary haunted her thoughts, echoing its warning.
The Emberfang calls for its wielder.
"How much farther?" Nova finally asked, her voice breaking the stillness.
Lucien glanced back. "A few hours. The temple ruins are hidden in the Veiled Hollow. If the Emberfang is there, we'll find it."
Nova wasn't sure what she expected from a weapon bound to her bloodline. A blade of living flame? A torch that only she could wield? Either way, the urgency in her chest hadn't stopped growing since the encounter with the emissary.
As they emerged from the trees, the landscape changed. The air grew warmer. The ground was cracked and blackened, as if scorched by a fire long past. Smoke drifted lazily from the earth, curling around ancient stones.
"We're close," Lucien murmured. "Feel that?"
Nova nodded. The fire inside her stirred, responding to something nearby. It was like a thread had been pulled taut between her soul and the ground beneath her feet.
They reached the mouth of a hidden canyon, its jagged walls rising high on either side. Etched into the stone were symbols—runes that shimmered faintly, as if acknowledging her presence.
"This place…" Nova whispered.
Lucien stepped carefully forward. "It's sacred. Or cursed, depending on who you ask. Only a Flameborn can enter the inner chamber. I'll stay here."
Nova turned to him. "What if I don't come back out?"
He met her eyes. "Then I'll come in after you."
There was no time for more words. She stepped into the canyon, feeling the heat rise with every footstep. The runes lit up as she passed, pulsing like a heartbeat.
The chamber beyond was circular, hollowed into the earth and glowing with a soft red light. At its center stood a pedestal, and resting atop it—
A blade.
Long, curved, and dark as obsidian, but with veins of molten gold running through it like lava. The Emberfang.
Nova took a trembling step forward. The air buzzed with energy. Her flames flickered along her arms, unbidden, as if recognizing their origin.
She reached out.
The moment her fingers closed around the hilt, the world shifted.
A vision exploded behind her eyes.
Flashes of fire. A woman with eyes like hers standing at the head of a battlefield. The Emberfang raised high. A kingdom in flames. Betrayal. Death. A scream that tore through time.
Nova staggered back, the blade clutched tightly in her grip.
Her heart pounded. That woman—Liora—her ancestor. The prophecy. The war.
She gasped for breath as the chamber faded back into reality, the vision ending as suddenly as it came.
"Nova!" Lucien's voice echoed from the canyon's mouth.
She stumbled toward the light, still holding the Emberfang, its heat warming her fingers but not burning them.
When she emerged, Lucien stared at her in awe.
"You found it."
Nova nodded. "It called to me."
His gaze dropped to the blade. "And now it's yours."
Before she could speak, the air shifted again. A sharp, crackling sound—like lightning splitting the sky.
From behind the rocks, figures emerged. Black-cloaked. Masked.
Shadow Court.
Lucien swore, drawing his sword. "They followed us."
Nova's grip on the Emberfang tightened. The fire inside her burned brighter now, fueled by something new. Power. Memory. Rage.
They were not taking her destiny.
She raised the Emberfang, and fire flared along the blade, swirling up her arm and illuminating the canyon walls.
Lucien stood beside her, ready.
The Shadow Court charged.
And Nova met them with flame.