Smoke clung to her lungs long after the flames died.
Aelira woke with a gasp, heart hammering, body drenched in cold sweat. The scent of ash still lingered, the phantom burn still tingled on her skin.
The mark had returned.
It glowed faintly under her collarbone—red, circular, ancient. The same one that branded her in the pyre. The same one that called her Saelwyn.
But she wasn't in flames anymore.
She was in a bed. Bloodroot House. Alive… again.
And that was the part that scared her most.
---
She threw on her cloak and stepped outside. The air was sharp with frost, the moon full and watching.
Every creak of the trees made her jump. Something was off tonight.
Down the hill, she saw the ritual ground—the one they didn't talk about. Where witches disappeared. Where the flames never left the soil.
Her feet moved before her mind did.
She crept toward the clearing, each step louder than the last. Her breath fogged the air. Her pulse pounded in her ears.
Then she saw it.
A single figure stood in the center of the circle. Cloaked. Tall. Unmoving.
Kaeln.
He was staring at the scorched earth like it held answers. His hand hovered just above the center mark—her mark. The pyre symbol. The one that never faded.
She stepped closer.
"Why are you here?" she asked.
Kaeln turned slowly, eyes dark as storm clouds.
"I could ask you the same."
"I dreamt this place," she whispered. "I felt myself burn again. I saw you."
"I was there," he said. "But not as you think."
Aelira swallowed. "What does that mean?"
Before he could speak, the wind shifted.
The scent of rosemary and blood.
Kaeln stepped in front of her, tense. "We're being watched."
---
From the shadows, golden eyes glowed.
Mother Vyra.
Her voice was like venom, smooth and cold. "You both have wandered too close to what was sealed."
Kaeln gritted his teeth. "You should not be here."
Vyra stepped forward, slow and dangerous. Her fingers moved, weaving air into symbols. The ground hissed.
"You were warned, Kaeln. And yet you brought her back here. You knew who she was."
Aelira stepped between them. "Why did you burn me?"
Vyra's eyes narrowed. "Because you were never meant to return."
The wind screamed.
Flames burst from the ritual circle. Red-hot. Alive. The mark on Aelira's chest seared. She dropped to her knees.
Kaeln rushed to her side.
Vyra raised her hand, eyes glowing. "The curse never ended. And this time, you won't leave alive."
Suddenly, the ground split.
Magic surged up like a wave.
Kaeln grabbed Aelira. "Run."
But she was already falling—into darkness.
Into memory.
---
She landed in a cold, wet tunnel. No light. No Kaeln.
Only stone. And whispers.
"Saelwyn…"
The name echoed off the walls.
Aelira stumbled forward. The tunnel felt endless. But her legs kept moving. Her hands trembled.
Then a shape moved ahead.
Not Kaeln.
Not Vyra.
Something older.
A skeletal hand reached out of the dark—and touched her.
The mark on her chest burned white-hot.
Aelira screamed.