The path to Blackwood Forest was no ordinary one.
It wound through silence.
The kind of silence that felt alive—watching, waiting, whispering your name when you swore no one else was around.
Elara had never ventured this far before. The locals spoke of Blackwood in hushed tones, warning of shadows that swallowed travelers whole and flames that flickered where no fire had ever been. But here she was, guided by a pendant she barely understood and a man who had more secrets than words.
Lucien was walking just ahead of her, his coat catching the wind, his steps sure—even as the trees loomed like giants.
"Elara," he said, without turning, "don't step off the path. No matter what you see. No matter what you hear."
She glanced around. The trees stretched tall and skeletal, black bark streaked with silver veins. The air felt thick—like the forest was holding its breath.
"Why are we even here?" she asked, clutching her pendant. "You said the answers lie in the ruins, but—"
"I said the past lies in the ruins," he interrupted. "Answers… those you'll have to find yourself."
They pressed deeper into the forest. At some point, the world behind them disappeared. There was no sign of the city, or even the road. Just endless trees and an eerie glow that pulsed beneath the ground like veins of ember.
After nearly an hour of walking, they reached a stone archway hidden by moss and age. Beneath it was a circle of carved runes, half-buried in soil and twisted roots.
Lucien knelt and brushed away the dirt. "This is it. The Seal of the Last Warden."
The moment Elara stepped closer, her pendant burned hot against her skin. She gasped, touching it through her shirt. Then—voices. Whispers, foreign and ancient, curled into her mind.
"Elara Vale... child of flame… you have come."
"Did you hear that?" she asked, stepping back.
Lucien stood, eyes wide. "No. What did it say?"
Before she could answer, the pendant flashed. The runes lit up—blazing gold and red—and a wave of heat exploded from the seal, knocking Lucien backward.
Elara collapsed to her knees, her eyes wide with a vision not of her own.
She saw—
A war.
Cities crumbling under fire and ash. A woman—herself, but not her—stood at the center, wielding a sword of light and flame. Behind her were others—Wardens, cloaked in armor, eyes glowing like stars. She saw betrayal. Death. A crown shattering into embers.
When Elara came to, her hands were trembling.
Lucien rushed to her side. "What did you see?"
"I was... her." Elara's voice was hoarse. "I was the Flamekeeper Queen."
Lucien froze.
"That's not possible."
"It's more than possible," she whispered. "It's true. And I think I've only just awakened what she left behind."
A sudden howl pierced the air. It was deep, inhuman, and it echoed all around them.
Lucien pulled her to her feet. "We have to leave. Now."
"No," Elara said, her voice stronger. "I have to stay. This forest remembers me. And something buried here is calling me."
"Whatever's calling you," Lucien growled, eyes scanning the trees, "isn't your friend."
They turned—but something was already standing at the edge of the clearing.
Tall. Shadowed. With eyes like coals, watching Elara like she was an old enemy—or a long-lost heir.