The night was colder than ever. Mara felt the chill crawl beneath her skin, deeper than the air could reach, as if something inside her had begun to freeze. The Seal, now fully awakened within her, pulsed with cold fire. She could feel it, thrumming in her chest, an energy both foreign and familiar. It was hers—but it wasn't.
The ruins of Skellmoor stretched across the darkened valley like the bones of a forgotten god, ancient and broken. The shadows among the crumbling stone whispered with memories, long-dead voices brushing Mara's ears like wind. Their campfire sputtered, offering more smoke than heat. Elira had tried conjuring flame, but even magic struggled here. The land itself seemed reluctant to give.
Mara sat alone near the edge of the firelight, eyes fixed on the distant mountains where the moon carved jagged silver lines across the snow-draped peaks. There was no sleep tonight. Not for her. The Seal had begun to seep into her dreams, turning every shadow into a threat, every whisper into a command. And worse—there were visions. Bleeding red eyes in a stone vault. Chains made of light. A woman's voice, ancient and weeping.
"You okay?" Adrian's voice pulled her back. It came low and cautious, as if he already knew the answer.
Mara didn't look at him. She just nodded once. "I'll be fine."
"You're a terrible liar."
"I didn't say I believed it."
Adrian walked over and sat beside her. For a moment, they just sat in silence. His presence helped more than she would admit. There was something grounding about Adrian—the way he watched everything, the way he kept one hand on his sword even when laughing. She could count on him, even if she didn't know why he stayed.
"You felt it again, didn't you?" he asked. "The Seal."
She nodded. "It's waking up faster. I can hear it now. In the trees, in the sky... even in the fire."
Adrian didn't speak. She knew he hated this. Hated watching her change into something he couldn't understand. He would stand beside her anyway, like he always had. But it weighed on him.
"It's not just power," Mara whispered. "It's… hunger."
"Hunger?"
"For more. For the others." She met his eyes. "There are seven, Adrian. I think I was only meant to carry one."
Adrian looked away. "We'll deal with it one at a time."
Footsteps crunched through frost-hardened grass. Elira approached, her white cloak billowing like mist. "We're not alone."
"What do you mean?" Mara stood quickly, her senses spiking.
"There's movement near the outer wall. More than one. I can feel the arcane disturbance. It's old... but deliberate."
Cormac joined them, eyes already scanning the darkness beyond the flickering firelight. "We should move. This place is cursed."
"No," Mara said, voice suddenly hard. "They're coming for me. If we run, they'll follow. Better we face them now."
Adrian nodded. "We hold here."
From the shadows of the city, figures emerged.
At first, Mara saw only cloaks—black as coal, moving without sound. Then came the bone masks. Cracked, jagged, and emotionless, they gleamed under moonlight. The Sentinels had found them.
But these weren't like the ones at the Spire. These were... different.
They moved in perfect unison, five of them, gliding as if weightless. Behind them, the air rippled—something darker was hidden, something not quite alive. A deeper cold began to settle into Mara's bones.
The central figure stepped forward. Its voice was inhuman—low and distorted, as if carried on the wind through a thousand broken bells.
"The last of the bloodline stands exposed. The Seal pulses. We are summoned by its cry."
Mara didn't flinch. "I'm not yours to summon."
"You misunderstand," the Sentinel replied. "You are the key. The Seal belongs to the blood of Ilyra. You are the lock... and the door."
Elira gasped softly. "Ilyra... the First Empress?"
Mara clenched her jaw. "That's a name I've never known."
"Yet her blood courses through you," the Sentinel said. "And now, so does her curse."
From the ruined stones behind the Sentinels came a tremor. The ground cracked, and from it rose twisted forms—humanoids warped into grotesque parodies of life. Their limbs bent at impossible angles, their skin stretched tight over jagged bone. Their eyes burned with violet flame.
Adrian stepped forward, sword drawn. "Corrupted."
Elira's voice was calm, but cold. "No. These are revenants. Not just twisted flesh—twisted souls."
Cormac lifted his axe. "Then let's send them to rest."
The creatures shrieked and lunged.
The battle exploded in a maelstrom of motion. Adrian met the first revenant with a brutal slash, sending its head rolling. Cormac roared and charged into the thick of them, swinging in wide arcs, clearing a path with sheer force.
Elira raised her hands, and light erupted in spears from the sky, burning three revenants where they stood.
Mara stood still.
The Seal inside her hummed. Her fingers curled into fists as the runes on her skin began to glow, brighter than ever before. Cold fire raced through her veins.
One of the revenants leapt toward her—and she moved like lightning.
Her sword cleaved the beast in two, and as it fell, the Seal surged. The others turned toward her, hesitating.
They sensed her power.
But it wasn't just that. Mara felt something else. A memory that wasn't hers. Blood on marble floors. A throne of obsidian. A child stolen under moonlight. And then—flames.
"No more running," she whispered.
The Seal opened.
With a scream that split the night, Mara unleashed it. A column of light and shadow burst from her chest, tearing through the revenants like a blade of judgment. The energy swept outward in a wide arc, incinerating every creature it touched. Even the Sentinels staggered back.
But with the power came pain.
Mara dropped to her knees, blood running from her nose. Her ears rang. The Seal was too strong, too raw. She needed control—but there wasn't time.
The central Sentinel stepped forward, undeterred.
"You are not ready," it said. "The First Seal is but a spark. The flame comes next."
Mara struggled to her feet. "Then I'll burn."
The Sentinel raised a hand—and the earth opened.
A figure rose from the pit, not corrupted like the others. This one wore armor of black steel, carved with runes. Its face was hidden by a helmet that wept shadows. In one hand, it held a sword of bone.
"The Shade Warden," Elira gasped.
"A general of the Old War," Adrian growled. "We're in trouble."
Mara felt her knees weaken. The Warden's presence was crushing. Even the Seal inside her seemed to cower. But she stood tall.
"I'm not her," she said, voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not Ilyra. I'm not the Empress."
The Warden took a step forward.
"I'm Mara."
She raised her sword.
And she charged.