The burn left no mark on the skin.
But the air tasted wrong.
Kael could still feel the pulse of it—an echo where the fire had licked past him and surged into Cire's outstretched hand. She had screamed once, and then no more. Now she was slumped to the ground, breathing, but still.
The marking wasn't on her body. It floated in the space above her chest—a ghostly brand, flickering in and out of view like a symbol made of fractured memory.
Mara stood frozen, the tips of her fingers still warm from casting the tether that had caught the flame. Her eyes darted between Kael and Cire, her breath sharp, unsure whether to run or kneel.
Kael didn't speak.
He walked forward slowly.
The bottle, now quiet and dim, pulsed once in his satchel—then stopped. As if satisfied.
He knelt beside Cire and examined the brand.
It wasn't just fire.
It was signal.
Fragments of language spun inside it—like the arcs he'd once seen in his dream. Not Virelin. Not human.
Something deeper.
Older.
A scream not meant for ears.
"What… is it doing to her?" Mara asked, her voice low.
Kael shook his head. "I don't think it's doing anything. I think it's listening."
"To her?"
"No. To me."
The mark shimmered again. This time, not red—but green. The same green he'd seen in the vision weeks ago.
Mara looked at him then. Really looked.
"What are you?"
"I'm not sure," Kael answered. "But I don't think this thing ever belonged to Cire."
From behind them, something groaned.
The wall.
No—what was behind the wall.
A grinding of stone. A pulse of rhythm.
The entire cavern floor vibrated.
Mara turned. "We need to move. Now."
Kael looked back down at Cire. Her eyes had opened—barely. She tried to sit up, but failed.
"I can't carry her," Kael muttered. "Not if it's waking up."
"I'll take her." Mara crouched, pulling Cire into her arms with a quiet grunt. "You lead. Whatever that bottle did… I think it started something."
They ran.
Not with grace. Not with coordination.
But with purpose.
The corridor outside the chamber was darker than before. The symbols along the walls—dim last time—now flared one by one as Kael passed them.
The bottle hummed louder.
"This way!" he called, instinct guiding his steps more than memory.
Behind them, the sound grew louder. Not footsteps. Not pursuit.
A presence.
Whatever had been buried here… was no longer content to sleep.
They reached the end of the tunnel, only to find the stone door still closed.
Kael hesitated. Then held up the bottle.
A green light arced from the mouth of the satchel, tracing an invisible line along the door's edge.
The stone groaned.
Then split open—clean, cold, mechanical.
Outside, moonlight filtered through broken canopy. They didn't stop running.
Not until the trees swallowed the light.
Not until the echoes faded.
Not until Kael collapsed to his knees, gasping for air.
Mara sat Cire down beside him. "She's alive. Barely."
Kael looked up at the sky.
No stars.
Just a signal.
Faint. Reversing.
Something had been sent.
And something… might soon reply.