The sky was never meant to bleed.
But it does.
Rivers of red light pour through the cracks above me, flooding the air with the scent of burnt ozone and something older — like the breath of the dead. The ground shakes beneath my boots, the ruins humming in a strange, rhythmic pulse. My mark burns so hot I think my skin might tear open.
Liora doesn't move. She stands at the edge of the cliff, eyes raised to the fracture in the heavens, her face painted in crimson glow.
"What's happening?" I shout over the roaring wind.
She glances back, calm amid chaos. "You opened it."
"No— I didn't—"
"You did," she says, stepping closer. "The moment you touched the second key, the gate recognized its keeper."
"I'm not its keeper!"
She smiles, faint and cruel. "Then why does it obey you?"
My breath catches. The mark on my wrist pulses again, matching the heartbeat of the world. I can feel something beyond the light—watching. Waiting.
The wind screams.
Suddenly, the ground splits open behind me. A surge of blue fire erupts, spiraling toward the sky. Shapes move inside it—distorted silhouettes, neither human nor divine. Their laughter scrapes against my mind.
"Liora, what is this?!"
"The beginning," she whispers. "The moment the old gods wake to see who dares walk their path."
I stagger back. "You used me."
"No, Seraphine." She steps forward, her eyes glowing with unnatural light. "I freed you."
Her hand reaches for my face, but before she touches me, the world convulses again. The blue fire slams into the earth, bursting outward. The shockwave throws me to the ground. My ears ring, my vision fractures into shards of color and shadow.
When I look up, Liora isn't there.
Only her armor — empty, smoking, and cracked — lies on the stone.
The mark on my wrist stops burning.
It starts whispering.
I wake hours later — maybe days. The light has dimmed. The air is cold again.
The red fracture in the sky has faded, leaving a pale scar across the heavens.
But something has changed.
I can feel them inside me — the things that came through. They move like ghosts under my skin, whispering in tongues I can almost understand.
The gate opens twice, one of them murmurs.
Once for blood. Once for choice.
I stumble to my feet, dizzy. The ruins around me are silent again, but wrong — like they've been rearranged while I slept. The once-broken pillars now stand tall. The temple's walls shimmer faintly, alive with symbols that weren't there before.
And in the center stands a mirror — black, rippling, humming with power.
I walk closer.
My reflection looks older.
Tired.
But behind her, I see someone else — Liora's shadow, smiling faintly.
I reach out.
Her voice drips from the glass like honey and venom.
"Do you finally see what you are, Seraphine?"
"You're dead," I whisper.
"Death means nothing here," she replies. "You carry what I was. The fragment binds us. My body burned, but my soul... slipped through your gate."
My heart thunders. "You're inside me?"
"You invited me in," she says softly. "Every mark, every choice... it wasn't destiny. It was design."
I stumble back, shaking my head. "No."
"Oh, yes."
Her reflection steps closer — her face nearly touching mine through the glass.
"You think you were the thief, the exile, the cursed wanderer... but you were made for this. The gods created you to open what even they feared to touch."
I stare into my reflection's eyes — but they're no longer mine.
They glow gold, ancient and endless.
And for a heartbeat, I remember everything.
The deal. The ritual. The betrayal that made me mortal.
How I once stood beside Liora as her equal.
How I fell from divinity — by choice — to reclaim what was stolen from us.
The memories crash into me like lightning.
I scream. The mirror explodes.
Glass and blood mix on the ground.
When I open my eyes, I'm standing in a new place.
A vast hall of marble and bone.
Above me, a thousand suspended candles burn with colorless flames.
At the far end, a throne of obsidian waits — empty, yet radiating life.
The voices in my head hush.
Then one speaks, clearer than the rest.
Welcome back, Seraphine.
I turn slowly — and see a man standing beside the throne.
He's tall, dressed in silver robes etched with shifting runes. His eyes burn the color of dying stars. I know his face, though I've never met him in this life.
"You..." I whisper. "You're—"
"The one you loved," he says. "The one you betrayed."
He steps closer, each word thick with centuries of grief and desire.
"The one who shattered the world to bring you back."
I stumble back, trembling. "This can't be real."
"Oh, it's very real," he murmurs, brushing his fingers along my jaw. His touch sends shivers of warmth through my skin, deeper than memory. "The gods didn't exile you. You exiled yourself."
His hand moves to my wrist, where the mark glows faintly.
"It's not a curse," he says. "It's a promise."
"What promise?"
He leans in, voice soft against my ear.
"To finish what we started."
And then—he's gone.
Vanished like smoke.
The throne stands empty again, but my pulse won't calm. The mark burns anew, and from the broken mirror behind me, Liora's whisper returns—fainter, colder, but alive.
"Careful, little goddess. The heart you chase will be the one that breaks you."
I look up at the throne, the world trembling around me.
Somewhere deep inside, the gate stirs again—hungry.
And I know this is only the second opening.
🔥 End of Chapter 6