The sun had not yet risen over Ashfall Keep when Seraphine stirred, a whisper cutting through the silence like a knife through silk.
Come to me, Daughter of Flame…
She jolted upright in bed, breath hitching. Kael, ever a light sleeper since the war, opened his eyes instantly.
"What is it?" he asked, rising with her.
"I… heard something. A voice. From the east."
Kael's expression shifted from sleepy concern to sharp alertness. "The gate."
He had read of it once in an ancient tome from the Obsidian Vaults: a door sealed before time, said to hum with power older than gods. Its location? Deep in the ruins of Draeven Hollow, a valley swallowed by time and legend.
"It's calling to me," Seraphine whispered, placing a hand over her heart. "Like it remembers me. Like I'm… connected to it."
Kael stood, wrapping a cloak around her shoulders. "Then we go. But not unprepared."
The Hollow was two days' ride east, through lands where wild magic still slithered beneath the soil. The sky was often grey, the birds strangely silent.
Kael rode at the front, flanked by his half-brother Evander—a demon general who had survived the war—and Seraphine at his side. The further they rode, the more restless the land became. Flames occasionally sparked beneath their feet, vanishing as quickly as they came.
"This place is waking up," Evander murmured. "As if it senses you."
"It's not just the gate," Kael said, eyes narrowed. "Something else is here."
The valley was sunken like a wound in the world.
At its center stood the Gate of Wings—two massive doors forged of petrified silver, inlaid with flame-kissed obsidian and shaped like feathered wings. Ancient runes spiraled across its surface, glowing faintly as Seraphine approached.
The moment she stepped within ten paces, the gate shuddered.
The air thickened. Wind howled from nowhere. And the runes spoke.
She returns. The Flame-Bearer. The Phoenix Queen. Unseal the memory.
Kael reached for her, but it was too late.
The gate opened.
And Seraphine collapsed.
She stood in a city made of glass and fire.
People bowed to her. Called her the Phoenix Queen. Beside her stood Kael—but not the one she knew. This Kael bore white hair, dark armor, and a gaze full of tragedy.
"This time, I won't fail you," he whispered.
The vision shifted. Fire raged. Seraphine screamed. Kael—her Kael—held a blade to her heart.
"I'm sorry," he cried. "I have to end this before you burn the world."
And he stabbed her.
She fell.
Into darkness.
Seraphine awoke gasping, Kael cradling her as the others stood back warily.
"You were out for minutes," Kael said. "You started burning."
"I saw… us." Her voice trembled. "Another life. You killed me, Kael."
Silence.
Kael didn't speak for a long time. His throat worked, his hands trembling slightly.
"I saw it too," he finally said, eyes far away. "As if that blade is still in my hand."
"What does it mean?"
"That the fire inside you… was never meant to sleep forever."
The Gate pulsed behind them.
And from its depths came a figure wreathed in white flame, crowned in golden ash.
Not demon. Not werewolf. Not human.
"I am Elarion, God of the Phoenix Flame," the being said, voice resonating like a thousand wings beating at once. "And I have come… to finish what we began."