Elara stood her ground.
The key around her neck pulsed like a second heartbeat, faster now, louder—as if it knew the fight ahead. The air sizzled. Sparks danced at her fingertips, gold and silver threads winding into her palms.
Across from her, Lady Maevra smiled with a chilling calm, blindfold fluttering in the mountain wind.
"You think power makes you ready," Maevra said. "But you don't understand the weight yet, do you?"
"I understand enough," Elara growled. "Enough to know you've twisted the old magic."
"Twisted?" Maevra's voice dripped with amusement. "We preserved it. While your Guardians hid in trees, we remembered. We burned offerings. We bled truths into the stones. You—you are the thief."
"I didn't choose this!" Elara snapped. "But I won't let you rewrite history with blood and lies."
Something shifted in the wind. The chanting stopped. The Circle stepped back.
Maevra raised her hands—and the mirror shard in her palm flared with violet light.
The world darkened instantly. Shadows peeled themselves from the cliff walls, crawling toward Elara like ink given life. Her legs tensed. Her fingers sparked.
Behind her, she felt the rustle of motion—Kai was climbing the ridge out of sight. Good. One less thing to worry about.
She reached inside herself—not for rage, not even for power, but for the memory of truth. Her mother's voice. The Guardian's gaze. The Watcher's silence.
She was the Keeper.
A word rose to her lips—old, older than any tongue she'd spoken.
"Veyatara."
The key split again—silver and gold, each hovering at her sides like twin stars.
She lifted her hands, and the ground beneath her cracked open—not in destruction, but in bloom. Vines of light shot up, wrapping around her like armor. A cloak of energy. A crown of leaf and flame.
Maevra's shadows charged.
So did Elara.
Magic clashed—light versus dark, memory versus manipulation. Where Elara stepped, the ground healed. Where Maevra moved, it crumbled.
Their spells collided midair, bursting into radiant storms.
Maevra's voice echoed above the noise. "You can't hold the Gate forever, child. The Woken Star is coming. And when it does—"
"It will find me ready," Elara snarled, hurling a beam of pure light straight into the mirror shard.
The shard cracked.
Maevra screamed.
The Circle members recoiled, chanting in a panic as the sigil on the ground flickered violently.
But Elara wasn't finished. She summoned the gold key into her hand and drove it into the ground.
A shockwave rippled outward—pure truth washing over lies.
The cult's symbols dimmed. The shadows shrieked and turned to dust. The chanting stopped.
And Maevra?
She dropped to one knee, the mirror fragment now splintered in her hand.
"You—" she gasped, blood trailing from the edge of her lip, "you broke the seal too soon. You've made it worse."
Elara stepped closer. "Worse for you, maybe."
Maevra chuckled darkly. "You don't know what you've done. You've awakened others. Ones the Guardians feared even to name."
With trembling fingers, she threw the mirror shard into the chasm behind her—and leapt after it.
Elara lunged to stop her, but she was too late.
Maevra vanished into the void.
Silence settled over the mountains. The Circle had fled. The sigil burned away. The light dimmed.
And Elara… collapsed to her knees.
Her power dimmed too. Her breath came in ragged gulps. For a moment, the world spun.
"Hey!" Kai's voice. "Elara!"
He skidded down the slope and caught her before she hit the ground fully. "You did it. You actually did it."
She gave a weak smile. "Don't sound so surprised."
He looked her over. "You're okay?"
"Tired. Not okay." She rested her head against his shoulder. "But we stopped her."
"Not for long," a voice said—and the Watcher stepped from the trees, silent as smoke.
Kai jumped. "You again?! Do you ever knock?"
The Watcher ignored him, eyes locked on Elara. "The mirror is lost. The sigil is broken. And Maevra is free in the lower realms."
Elara frowned. "I thought we won."
"You delayed her," the Watcher said. "But this war has many fronts."
Kai groaned. "Of course it does."
The Watcher turned to Elara. "There is another mirror fragment. Hidden in the ruins of Theran'Quel."
Elara's head jerked up. "That place was swallowed by the Woken Fault—centuries ago!"
"Not swallowed," he corrected. "Guarded. By one who remembers."
Elara forced herself upright. "Then that's where we go next."
Kai groaned again. "Another lost ruin. Another death trap. Great."
But Elara's eyes burned with determination.
She was done running.
She was done doubting.
Now? She was chasing the truth down.
And she would find every last piece of the key.