Aeron stood trembling before them, his silver eyes flickering like candlelight. Lyria didn't like how the glow in his pupils matched the strange symbol on the letter — or how the air around him seemed warmer than normal.
Garron scratched his chin. "So… connected? Like cousins? Or more like you owe this Sovereign guy money?"
Aeron let out a shaky laugh. "I wish it was something that simple."
Maera circled him, tail swishing. "Let me guess — you've been having weird dreams, the kind that make your hair stand up?"
Aeron nodded slowly. "Yes… but it's more than dreams. Every night for the last month, I hear a voice whispering my name. It comes from the dark… and from fire."
Halik's expression sharpened. "Fire speaks only to the chosen or the cursed."
Riko tugged at Lyria's sleeve. "Do you think he's cursed?"
Lyria studied Aeron. "Not cursed. Marked."
Aeron's shoulders slumped. "That's exactly what I'm afraid of."
Soryn gestured for everyone to follow. "We're taking him to the Hall of Records. Someone there might know what this symbol means."
As they walked, Aeron kept glancing around like he expected shadows to jump at him.
Maera smirked. "Relax. If anything tries to kill you, we'll handle it."
"That's… not as comforting as you think it is," Aeron replied.
But even Maera didn't deny it.
Inside the Hall of Records
The Hall was ancient — tall stone pillars, floating lanterns, and a massive circular library carved into the cliffs. Old dust and old knowledge clung to the air.
Keeper Vellin, an elderly scholar with too many scrolls and not enough patience, greeted them with a sigh.
"You again?" he muttered. "Last week you brought me a goblin who claimed to be a 'lost prince.' What chaos today?"
Soryn held up the sealed letter.
Vellin's eyes widened instantly. "Ah. Chaos of the serious sort."
He hurried them inside.
When he spread the letter on the table, the burnt markings glowed faintly.
"Ashscript," Vellin murmured. "Language of the Forgotten Pyres. Extremely ancient. Extremely dangerous."
Garron raised an eyebrow. "Why is everything ancient AND dangerous? Why not ancient AND friendly?"
Maera elbowed him. "Because that would be boring."
Vellin tapped the symbol. "This belongs to the Ashborn Sovereign — an entity said to rule fire itself."
Lyria frowned. "Then why is he waking now?"
Vellin looked at Aeron. "Because someone called him."
Aeron's face went pale. "You mean me."
Vellin didn't deny it.
The Glow Awakens
Suddenly Aeron gasped and clutched his chest.
His silver eyes flared open, burning with ash-colored light.
The lanterns in the Hall flickered violently.
Halik stepped forward in alarm. "He's resonating!"
Aeron's voice changed — deeper, echoing, layered with another presence.
"He rises… and so must I."
The floor trembled.
Shelves rattled. Scrolls fell. A column cracked.
Maera dragged Riko back. "He's going to blow!"
Lyria grabbed Aeron's shoulders. "Fight it!"
Aeron's breath came in sharp, painful gasps. "I'm trying—! It's like something inside me wants out—"
Then the glow faded suddenly.
Aeron collapsed.
Lyria caught him before he hit the floor, lowering him gently.
Halik knelt beside him. "He's stable. But that wasn't a simple surge. Something forced its way through him."
Riko whispered, "The Sovereign?"
Lyria felt a cold shiver. "He wasn't trying to speak to us."
She looked down at Aeron's unconscious form.
"He was trying to speak through him."