It had been seven days since the Furnace Gate fell.
Seven days since the world changed, without fire or fanfare—just a silence that settled over kingdoms like the hush after a storm. The sun rose softer now. The winds did not carry the same weight. Even the stars seemed to watch differently.
Mara sat atop a cliff in the Spineward Peaks, her legs dangling over the edge of the world.
She no longer felt the shards burning in her chest. Their presence was gone—but in their place was something deeper. She could still feel the threads of them in the world: the gentle peace of Remembrance in the valley where the ash had cooled… the quiet rage of Grief in a weeping widow's song… the strength of Will in every stubborn child who refused to kneel.
She had not destroyed the shards.
She had returned them.
---
Tessara's Departure
Tessara approached her, carrying a simple pack. No longer armored, but still proud, still poised.
"I'm heading south," she said. "The Ashen Wards are rebuilding. They could use a few old swords."
Mara smiled. "They'll be lucky to have you."
Tessara looked away for a moment. "You sure you don't want to come?"
"I don't know where I belong yet," Mara said softly. "But I'll find it."
"You already did," Tessara said. "You just don't see it yet."
They embraced. No promises, no tears. Just understanding.
---
Serai's Vision
Later, Serai joined Mara by the edge, holding a polished shard of obsidian she used to read the winds.
"The weave of flame is settling," she said. "But something… stirs beneath it."
Mara turned. "What do you mean?"
Serai hesitated. "In the place where the shards were forged—in the before, before memory—something remained. A spark. Not flame. Not shadow. Something older."
"Is it dangerous?"
Serai smiled grimly. "When is it not?"
---
The Ember Remains
That night, while the others slept, Mara dreamed again.
But it wasn't a memory. Not quite.
She walked through a meadow that burned without heat. Petals of fire drifted around her, and the sky above shimmered with starlight shaped like wings.
A voice greeted her—not one she recognized, but not unfamiliar.
> You carried my pieces well.
"Who are you?" she asked.
> Once, I was the Heart. Now, I am only Echo.
"Is it over?"
> For now. But where flame sleeps, ash watches. And beneath the ember sky… nothing ends for long.
Mara opened her eyes to the first light of dawn.
In her palm, a single ember glowed faintly — not a shard, but a gift.
And far off, in a realm not yet touched by time, a new fire cracked open the bones of the world.
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