The air was thick in the chamber, tasting like ash and iron.
Luke's flashlight flickered as he stepped closer to the pool, its beam glinting off the black water. The glowing ember pulsed steadily, almost hypnotic — a slow, burning rhythm that seemed to sync with Emma's heartbeat.
"Don't touch it," Emma whispered, though she wasn't sure why. The ember called to her. Not just through sound — through memory.
Images flashed behind her eyes: the night of the fire, the screaming wood, the collapsing ceiling — and Luke, dragging her out, his arms burned, his voice breaking as he begged her to stay awake.
She shook her head. No. That wasn't the whole story.
The ember brightened, sensing her hesitation.
Luke's voice trembled. "Emma… what if this isn't the fire that destroyed the house? What if it's what started it?"
The room seemed to tilt, the walls breathing. The markings began to glow faintly red. Emma felt her skin prickle as whispers filled the space — soft at first, then sharper, overlapping.
He lied.
She stayed when she should have burned.
The heart remembers who fed it.
Emma's chest tightened. "Luke—"
But he was staring at her — no, through her. His expression shifted between confusion and guilt. "Emma… the night of the fire… I wasn't honest with you."
Her blood ran cold. "What do you mean?"
He looked down, unable to meet her eyes. "I didn't just find you in that room. I… I was already there. With someone else."
The ember pulsed violently, sending a ripple through the black water. The whispering voices hissed with glee.
Emma's eyes widened. "Someone else?"
"Her name was Mara," he said hoarsely. "She… she was studying the same symbol we found upstairs. She said it could bind the fire — or release it. I thought she was insane. But when she started the ritual, it— it went wrong. I tried to stop it, but the fire—"
He stopped as the air thickened, the water beginning to bubble.
From the far end of the chamber, a faint shape began to rise — a woman's silhouette, her form shimmering with heat and smoke. Her face flickered like firelight, ever-changing, and yet Emma recognized her instantly from the photos she'd seen in old case files.
"Mara…"
Luke stepped back. "No… that's not possible."
The spirit's voice was both a whisper and a roar.
"You took what was mine. You promised me eternity — and gave me ash."
The ember lifted from the water, hovering between them. The air vibrated as the markings on the walls flared crimson. Emma could feel her own pulse syncing with the ember again — her fear, her rage, her love tangled in something ancient and alive.
Mara's voice grew sharper. "The fire doesn't die, Luke. It waits for what it was owed."
Emma reached for Luke's hand, but he didn't move. His eyes were locked on the ember — and the guilt that had haunted him for years.
Then the ember split — one half glowing bright gold, the other a dark, hungry red.
Emma heard it whisper to her: Choose. One burns for truth. The other for love.
And the house trembled, waiting for her answer.