The light was gone, but its memory clung to the air — a breath that refused to fade.
The Spire was silent again, yet everything in it felt alive. The stones still trembled faintly underfoot, as if remembering what they'd just witnessed.
Reforge the convenant.
The words burned through Rynna's mind like afterimages of lightning.
She stood in the red afterglow, her heartbeat still racing. Kael hadn't moved. His eyes — those faint, ember-lit eyes — were fixed on the circle where the flame had vanished. He looked lost in a way that wasn't physical, like someone waking from a dream he didn't want to believe had ended.
Rynna swallowed. "Kael… what was that?"
He didn't answer. Not at first. His voice, when it came, sounded as if it had been torn through smoke.
"Something ancient. Something that shouldn't remember me."
Seraphine knelt nearby, her hands gliding over the remnants of her shattered vial. The faint light within each shard winked out as she touched them. Her expression was unreadable — too calm for what had just happened.
"The fire remembers," she said quietly. "And now, so must you."
Kael turned toward her, eyes narrowing. "You told me it was dormant."
"I told you it was waiting," Seraphine corrected. "There's a difference."
Rynna's pulse quickened again. "It showed us… beings. Giants made of light. They spoke without speaking. Who were they?"
"The ones who forged the world's first bonds," Seraphine said. "The Celestials. When they broke their oath, they burned themselves into the fire so their covenant wouldn't die with them."
Kael took a slow step forward. "And what did it mean — when it said reforge?"
Seraphine looked between them — first at Kael, then Rynna. Her eyes softened, but her words carried weight.
"It means the fire has chosen new hands to carry what was lost."
Rynna felt her throat tighten. "Chosen? No— I didn't ask for any of this."
"The fire doesn't ask," Seraphine said. "It remembers. And remembrance… is never gentle."
She turned toward the door, her robe trailing light like smoke. "You've seen what most have forgotten. But memory is dangerous. Guard it well, or it will guard you."
Then she was gone — her footsteps swallowed by silence.
Rynna exhaled shakily, only now realizing she'd been holding her breath. The room felt colder without Seraphine's presence, but heavier too — like the air itself pressed against her ribs.
Kael finally moved. He ran a trembling hand through his hair, the glow fading from his eyes. When he looked at her, his voice was quiet — almost human again.
"You shouldn't have come here."
Rynna managed a faint, trembling smile. "You keep saying that like I listen."
He huffed out a breath that might've been a laugh. "You're braver than you should be."
"Or just too curious," she said. "Depends on who you ask."
Their eyes met. For a heartbeat, the world stilled.
In that stillness, Rynna saw the fear beneath his calm — not fear of her, but of himself. Of what he carried. The ember under his skin pulsed faintly, as though aware of her gaze.
Without meaning to, she took a step closer. "Does it hurt?"
He hesitated, then nodded. "Only when I try to forget it's there."
Something in her softened. She didn't reach for him — not yet — but her voice lowered.
"Then don't forget. Just… don't let it own you."
He looked at her, and for the first time since the fire spoke, his expression cracked — a small, uncertain smile, fragile as ash.
Before either could say more, a voice echoed faintly from outside.
"Kael? You in there?"
Rynna tensed, instinctively stepping back. Kael sighed, almost exasperated.
"That'll be Liran."
Moments later, a boy emerged from the mist — tall, with tousled hair and eyes too curious for his own good. A silver clasp gleamed on his collar, marking him as a first-year.
"By the Ancients, Kael," Liran panted, half-laughing. "Do you ever not sneak into cursed towers at night?"
Kael managed a weary half-smile. "Rynna, this is Liran Corvane — the only person in this academy who talks more than he studies."
Liran grinned, brushing dust off his coat. "Someone has to keep him from brooding himself to death."
Rynna tried to hide her amusement, but something about Liran's face made her pause. The curve of his smile. The faint scar at his jaw.
It felt familiar — like a face she'd seen once before, in a dream or through a window she couldn't open.
"Have we… met?" she asked softly.
Liran blinked. "Not officially, I think. But I've seen you in the east wing — you're always carrying that old leather notebook, right?"
Rynna hesitated. "Maybe that's it," she said, though her voice didn't sound convinced.
Kael watched her quietly, a flicker of curiosity crossing his eyes. But he said nothing.
"Well," Liran said, breaking the silence, "as much as I love eerie midnight gatherings, we should probably not be caught here. The wardens are doing rounds."
Kael nodded. "He's right. We should go."
As they stepped into the moonlight, Rynna looked between Kael and Liran — one shadowed by secrets, the other glowing with restless energy.
Somehow, she felt the two of them were pieces of a story she hadn't yet remembered.
And when the wind whispered her name, she almost turned to answer.
He turned and began muttering to himself as he led the way back. Rynna followed, her heart still unsteady. The night air felt different now — colder, thinner. As if the world itself had shifted just slightly out of place.
At the dorm entrance, Liran waved a hand. "You two owe me a year of sleep. Goodnight."
When he disappeared inside, the quiet returned. Moonlight spilled across the stone, pale and endless.
Kael lingered at the steps. His voice was soft. "Thank you… for not running."
Rynna turned to him, her hair stirring in the wind. "You said the fire remembers."
He nodded.
"Then maybe it remembered the wrong people," she said.
Kael looked up at the stars — dim and distant, veiled by mist. "Or maybe it didn't."
Their eyes met again. The wind brushed between them, carrying the faintest scent of ash and iron. Somewhere deep within the Spire, unseen, the hum began once more — low, ancient, alive.
This time, Rynna heard it too.