Elira didn't sleep.
The scent of ash and roses still clung to her cloak, though she hadn't stepped near fire. She paced the upper balcony of the Ash Circle, the folded red parchment tucked deep in her sleeve, heart beating like it remembered something her mind refused to name.
Below, Vessa and Naerina argued in hushed tones. They thought she couldn't hear — but she could. The coven was shaken by her latest episode. Tovin's condition had worsened too. He now muttered glyphs in his sleep that even the oldest texts couldn't identify.
Elira watched from above, eyes sharp, face unreadable.
"She's unraveling," Vessa warned. "Piece by piece."
"No," Naerina said softly. "She's remembering."
—
In Daggerdeep, the court gathered behind a ring of flame. Caelum stood before them, head bowed in appearance only.
Three new vampires had joined the circle.
- Dierik, of the Broken Tongue — silent but deadly loyal to the old blood
- Sahréa, robed in white and poison, once his ally, now unreadable
- And Auren, a boy-faced diplomat with eyes like rusted steel — young, but clever
They asked nothing of the fifth seal.
Instead, they asked of *Elira*.
"Is she the same one?" Auren asked. "The name that burned the forest?"
Caelum didn't answer.
Sahréa stepped forward. "The fifth sigil was never meant to be found. The others… yes. But not that one."
"She hasn't found it," Caelum said. "And she won't. Not alone."
"That's the problem," Auren whispered. "She's no longer alone."
He produced a scroll — wrapped in shadowlace — and tossed it to the floor.
Caelum stared.
It was the original prophecy fragment, stolen long ago.
Now returned — but rewritten.
One line had changed.
"When the cursed heart breaks, the seal will bleed—not open."
And beneath it, a signature he hadn't seen in centuries:
Serelune.
Meanwhile…
Elira followed a trail of symbols only she could now see — etched into the moss-covered stones behind the coven's western boundary. The glyph on the key glowed faintly in her hand with each step.
Then she reached a mirror pool — long sealed off by her mother's wards.
The waters were dark.
She stared into them…
…and saw not herself, but Sorienne, the Grey Witch.
"Sorienne," Elira breathed.
The reflection blinked.
Not a memory. A projection.
"Stop looking," the witch said, her voice distant and warped. "Not yet. The fifth isn't for your eyes — not until the ashes are named."
"What ashes?"
Sorienne's expression darkened. "You still think your family burned in Veil Dusk by another's hand?"
Elira's chest tightened. "What are you saying?"
But the reflection faded — violently — as if something had cut the magic short. The pool turned to ice in seconds.
Back in Daggerdeep, Orien stood beside Caelum as the court dispersed.
"She's moving too close," Orien said. "You'll have to decide soon."
"She was never meant to remember this way," Caelum muttered. "The fifth sigil… it'll break her if she sees it before time."
Orien hesitated.
"She isn't just remembering, Caelum. The seals aren't reactivating."
"They're following her."