Elira couldn't stop shaking.
Even after the whispers faded and the creature vanished, the chill it left behind stayed in her bones. Her blood-mark throbbed beneath her skin like it remembered the thing that had spoken to her.
We're not done.
Ravion hadn't let go of her yet.
He was crouched beside her, fire still simmering at his fingertips like he didn't trust the quiet. His gaze burned into hers equal parts fury and fear.
"You should've waited for me," he said, low.
"I didn't have time to wait."
"You think that thing showed up by chance?" His voice cracked like fire through ice. "Elira, this is the second time something ancient has come sniffing around you. This isn't normal."
"No," she said softly, "But I'm not normal either, remember?"
That shut him up.
He leaned back, exhaling like he was trying to smother a fire inside him. "You're not just a blood witch, Elira. There's something ancient woven into you something older than either of us and now… it's starting to wake up."
He rose too slower, his heat brushing against her skin,"You don't know what you're becoming."
She met his gaze. "Neither do you."
He didn't answer right away.
Instead, he stood and walked to the altar now dark and silent again and traced a finger over the still-smoking stone. His expression was unreadable.
Then he said, "Because I've felt it before."
Elira rose slowly, "What?"
Ravion turned, shadows curling at his feet. "The first time I fell," he said, voice quiet, "when I was cast out of the Flame Realm... I felt something watching, ancient, hungry waiting for something. I didn't know what."
He paused.
"Now I do."
Her mouth went dry. "You think it was waiting for me?"
"No," he said, "I think it was waiting for your magic."
She touched her mark instinctively.
"And now that the bond has awakened it -" Ravion stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. "-it wants you."
Elira swallowed hard. "You said it came to claim me."
"It did."
"But why?"
"You've got something in your blood the old powers want something even I don't understand yet."
The room fell silent again but not peaceful. Just… still like the whole realm was holding its breath.
Then Ravion said, "I need to show you something."
He turned and led her out of the sanctum without another word.
They walked through a long, sloping tunnel of black stone, deeper into the heart of the temple. The air grew warmer, heavier, laced with molten heat and humming magic.
Elira glanced at him and asked "Where are we going?"
"To the mirror hall."
"That doesn't sound ominous at all."
"It shows the truth."
She didn't reply, just followed silent and tense.
They entered a chamber lit by hovering shards of crystal, each one flickering with soft crimson fire. At the center stood a curved obsidian mirror, tall as the ceiling, framed with clawed runes and bone.
Ravion gestured to it.
"Stand in front of it."
"Why?"
"It'll show you what's buried not just memory," Bloodlines."
"And what do you think I'll see?"
He didn't answer.
Ravion gestured, "Go ahead."
Elira hesitated then stepped forward ,the mirror shimmered, her reflection shimmered, twisted and then… held.
Her eyes stared back at her but brighter, more golden. Her mark glowed, not red but molten. And behind her, the mirror shimmered again, showing shadows of women cloaked in ash, faces veiled, their eyes glowing like dying stars.
One stepped forward.
Her voice rasped through the glass:"Daughter of ash… you were never meant to be saved."
Elira staggered back,"What—what are they?"
Ravion caught her before she hit the floor.
"What did you see?" he asked urgently.
"I-I don't know," she said breathlessly. "A woman her voice, she knew me like I belonged to her."
"Witches from before your coven before mine. A forgotten bloodline.
She felt like she couldn't breathe, "Why do they call me daughter of ash?"
Ravion's expression darkened. "That name,'Daughter of ash' that's not random."
"What does it mean?"
"I think it's your bloodline," he said grimly. "Elira… you're not just bound to darkness,you were born from it, that mark on your hand doesn't belong to your coven. It was never theirs to exile."
She looked down.
The blood sigil on her palm shimmered not crimson this time but black and gold.
Like fire, swallowed by night.
"Elira," Ravion said carefully, "whatever they tried to bury... you are the last of it."
Something in her chest cracked open.
Awe.
Terror.
Power.
"I was never just a mistake," she whispered.
"No," he said, voice low, almost reverent. "You were a secret."
Silence fell again.
Only this time, Elira didn't tremble.
She stood.
Head high.
"Then maybe it's time I stop running from it."
Ravion stared at her.
And for the first time since she summoned him he looked almost… impressed.
But before he could speak, a loud clang echoed through the halls.
Then a distant voice snarled:
"She's here. The witch who summoned the devil."
Ravion's eyes flashed.
"Not another spirit."
"No," he said, stepping in front of her, eyes narrowing. "This one's mortal."
Elira's stomach twisted. "A hunter?"
He drew a blade made of pure flame. "Worse a priest."
Ravion's expression darkened, "I know that voice."
Elira frowned, "You said it was a priest?"
"A purger," Ravion corrected, fire dancing up his arms. "The kind that doesn't banish witches, just burns them."
Her stomach twisted.
"How did he get in?" she asked.
Ravion turned, eyes glowing like coals. "He didn't."
"What?"
"He didn't break the barrier, which means…"
Elira swallowed. "Someone let him in."
His expression sharpened.
"I'm not the only one with enemies," he muttered. "There are devils who'd love to see me distracted and if they can't kill me…"
"…they'll come for me," she finished.
Another crash.
A second voice joined the first this one female, cold.
"She summoned the prince, she'll lead us to the others."
Ravion stepped in front of her.
"We don't run," he said, "But we don't fight fair either."
Elira grinned, adrenaline pushing fear away. "Then let's make them regret coming."
His mouth curved slightly. "Witch."
"Devil."
Whatever was coming…
This time, they'd face it together.