The night Aria Vale's world cracked open, the sky did not scream.
It held its breath.
Clouds lay heavy and unmoving above the forest of Elderglen, as if the heavens themselves were afraid to watch. No wind stirred the leaves. No owl called from the trees. Even the insects, those tireless witnesses of the dark, had gone silent.
Aria felt it before she understood it.
The pressure.
It pressed against her chest like an unseen hand, squeezing tighter with every step she took along the narrow forest path. Her lantern swung from her fingers, its weak glow barely piercing the thick darkness. The flame inside flickered violently, responding to something she could not see.
"Stop it," she whispered, tightening her grip. "You're just a light."
The flame shuddered.
Aria froze.
Lanterns did not react to voices. They did not pulse or tremble as if alive. Her breath caught in her throat as a strange warmth crawled up her arm, spreading beneath her skin like embers waking from sleep.
She swallowed hard and forced herself forward.
She had no choice.
Elderglen Forest was forbidden after dusk. Everyone knew that. Children were warned with stories of vanishing paths and whispering shadows. Adults avoided it with a quiet fear they pretended was practicality. But when the village healer sent her to gather nightbloom roots before dawn when he looked at her with tired eyes and said no one else will survive the crossing Aria had nodded.
She always nodded.
Because she had always been the one sent where others would not go.
The path narrowed, twisting between ancient trees whose roots clawed at the earth like skeletal fingers. Their trunks were scarred with symbols long faded by time, markings no one in the village remembered carving. Aria brushed her fingers against one as she passed.
The symbol burned.
She jerked her hand back with a sharp gasp. The warmth surged again, hotter now, rushing through her veins like wildfire. The lantern flared, its flame stretching unnaturally high, casting distorted shadows that writhed against the trees.
"No," she whispered. "No, no, no…"
The forest answered.
A low hum vibrated through the ground, subtle at first, then growing deeper older. The air thickened, heavy with the scent of ash and rain. Aria's heart pounded violently as her instincts screamed at her to run.
She didn't.
Something had rooted her to the spot.
The earth beneath her feet cracked with a sharp snap, and glowing fissures spread outward like veins of molten gold. Aria stumbled back, barely catching herself as heat surged upward, wrapping around her legs without burning.
She stared in horror and awe.
The ground was glowing.
The trees trembled, their branches bending inward as if bowing. The symbols carved into their bark ignited one by one, blazing with ancient light.
Then the voice spoke.
Not aloud.
Inside her.
At last.
Aria screamed.
The lantern shattered from her grip, glass exploding outward as the flame burst free, swirling around her like a living thing. She fell to her knees, clutching her head as the voice pressed deeper, unfolding within her mind like a forgotten memory being forced awake.
You hear us.
"I don't" Her voice broke. "I don't know who you are!"
The fire coiled closer, circling her wrists, her shoulders, her throat. It did not burn. It caressed. It recognized.
You are the bearer.
Images flooded her vision.
A realm split by fire and shadow. Towers crumbling beneath crimson skies. Creatures with wings of obsidian and eyes like dying stars. A crown falling into ash-strewn earth. Blood staining stone. A girl no, a woman, standing at the center of it all, her hands ablaze, her face both terrified and unyielding.
Aria gasped for air as the visions tore through her.
"Stop!" she cried. "Please, just stop!"
The fire paused.
Then it obeyed.
The sudden silence was deafening.
The flames drew back, shrinking into glowing threads that sank into her skin, disappearing beneath her palms. The light dimmed. The forest exhaled.
Aria collapsed forward, gasping, her hands pressed against the scorched earth. Her entire body trembled, heat radiating from her like a living furnace.
She was not alone anymore.
She felt it.
Something vast and ancient had settled deep within her chest, quiet now—but awake.
Behind her, a branch snapped.
Aria spun around, scrambling to her feet.
The darkness between the trees shifted.
A figure stepped forward, tall and cloaked, his presence bending the shadows around him. Pale silver eyes gleamed beneath his hood, sharp and assessing.
"So," he said softly, his voice calm despite the devastation around them. "The embers chose you after all."
Aria backed away, heart hammering.
"Who are you?" she demanded, though her voice shook.
The man studied her like a puzzle long unsolved.
"Someone who has been searching for you," he replied. "And someone who knows what you've just become."
Her hands ignited.
Not in flame, but in light.
Golden fire spilled between her fingers, wild and untrained. The man's expression hardened, not with fear, but with grim confirmation.
"Gods help us," he murmured. "The Veiled Realm is opening."
Aria stared at the fire blooming from her skin, at the stranger who spoke of realms and gods as if they were real.
Her life, the quiet village, the small fears, the simple survival, it all shattered in that moment.
Because deep within her chest, the embers stirred again.
And somewhere far beyond the forest, something ancient and monstrous lifted its head.
The fire had answered.
And the world would never be the same.