Page 8 of Broken Fates (Severed Flames #3)

Chapter 8

Vale

A pulse, like a heartbeat, rippled outward from the carving, shaking the temple’s foundation. Runes flared to life across the walls, the columns, the floor—searing symbols burning into existence, glowing like embers before settling into a slow, steady pulse.

I gasped and jerked my hand back.

My heel caught on a broken slab of stone, my balance tipping. I crashed into something solid—Idris.

His arms came around me instinctively, his body heat wrapping around me like a shield. Scales rippled along his skin, the scent of smoke curling in the air as his dragon flared in response. His grip was firm, possessive, his stance set between me and the temple.

His growl rumbled against my back. “What the fuck did you do?”

“I—” My pulse hammered. “I don’t know.”

The runes were still glowing—still breathing. The whole temple felt alive. A slow, creeping awareness crawled over my skin, like something unseen was watching, waiting. I swallowed hard and fumbled with the straps on my pack, my fingers trembling as I yanked out the Luxa book.

“Vale,” Idris warned, his voice a low snarl. “We need to get the fuck out of here.”

But I continued flipping through brittle pages, frantically searching for the symbol now carved into my mind.

“I did not almost die for this to leave now. I was led here, dammit, and I?—”

Then I found it.

It was barely noticeable, small, and faded in the corner of a page. A footnote, almost an afterthought, but the text beneath it made my breath catch.

A Luxa stronghold. A sanctuary hidden even from the Waking. Sealed with the blood of the Lighted Ones.

The “lighted ones” had to be Luxa. The symbol was sealed in our blood, which meant the only way to unseal it was…

Idris stiffened behind me. His breathing sharpened, his body coiling tight as a bowstring. I felt him reading the words over my shoulder, felt the exact moment his entire being rejected what I was thinking.

“No,” he growled.

I turned, my breath fogging in the cold. “Idris?—”

“ No .” His voice was sharp. Final. “We don’t know what the fuck this is or what you’ll unlock.”

But I knew I was supposed to find this place. I knew it . It had called me here.

I swallowed, glancing back at the carving. “There’s only one way to find out.”

“Vale—”

Before he could stop me, I moved. A sharp sting bit through my hand as I dragged my fingertip along a jagged splinter of a broken pew. A single bead of crimson welled up, and I pressed it to the stone.

The temple inhaled, a soundless rush of power sucked at my lungs, the pressure mounting in my skull. A thunderous crack split the air before the runes exploded with light. A shockwave slammed into me, into Idris, sending us both stumbling back. The walls trembled, the air thickened, and gravity warped.

The runes flared hotter, the glow turning molten, and for a second, I swore the temple woke up and stared right at me. A rush of air twined around my ankles, the deep pull of something ancient and unseen, like fingers curling around my ribs. It wasn’t just awake. It was aware.

And then?—

I was falling.

No gentle transition. No slow descent. Just a violent, merciless drop into the abyss. The temple ripped away from me, the stone dissolving into darkness.

A roar tore through the void—Idris’ voice, ragged and desperate. “ Vale !”

But I was already gone.

I tried to scream, but there was no sound.

I crashed into something soft. A frigid bite tore through me, my hands sinking into thick, powdery snow. But the moment I touched it, I knew.

This wasn’t real.

Staggering to my feet, my breath wisped in the frozen air. The temple stood before me—whole. No cracks, no ruins—just pristine white stone, towering spires stretching toward a too-dark sky.

Everything felt… wrong.

The air was too still. The silence too deep. And then came the whispers.

Not words, just sounds like icy breaths on the back of my neck. My stomach knotted. I turned, searching ? —

And the temple shifted.

Figures flickered in and out of existence, clad in golden robes with white veils. Moving through the halls, their voices distant echoes.

Luxa witches.

Their faces were blurred, distorted. I reached for one, fingers outstretched—they passed right through. A vision maybe or an echo of the past.

Or a warning.

A low, musical laugh whipped through the temple, slithering through the walls. “Look at you.”

I spun, my pulse spiking because I knew that voice. Zamarra wasn’t visible, but she was here.

“Once again stepping into places you don’t belong.”

I clenched my fists, fire licking beneath my skin. “Show yourself.”

Another laugh. “Oh, little queen, I don’t think you really want that.”

The air shifted, a dark wind curling through the hall, knocking into my chest, making me stumble.

Zamarra hummed in glee. “Your parents were pathetic fools.”

My breath hitched. What the hell did she know about my parents?

“They begged the Dreaming for salvation.” Her voice slithered through the darkness, too close, everywhere and nowhere. “Asking the very power they should have feared for help. They should have left it alone. Now where are they? Dead and gone with nothing to show for it except for playing right into my hands.”

I forced my voice steady. “You’re full of shit.”

Zamarra chuckled, her voice getting closer, even though she stayed hidden. “Am I? What about now?”

The shadows coiled tighter, and then the world around me changed.

Nyrah sat bound and unconscious on a high-backed chair, the ropes biting into her flesh. A dagger hovered over her heart, held by an invisible hand.

I froze, my lungs seizing.

Zamarra tsked. “You think I want you?”

I swallowed hard, not knowing what to do.

“I don’t.” Her voice was silk and venom. “I already have a vessel all trussed up and waiting for me.”

Ice crawled up my spine as the blade pressed into Nyrah’s filthy tunic.

“She’s young,” Zamarra mused, her form flickering in and out of view. “Not as powerful as you—not yet. But she will be.”

The dagger dragged higher, slicing into the fabric as it reached for her throat.

“And if you won’t kneel for me…” Zamarra sighed. “Perhaps you’ll kneel for her.”

Something inside me snapped. I screamed, my magic surging outward, shattering the vision ? —

But the laughter didn’t stop.

“You’ll break before the end,” Zamarra purred, her form solidifying for just a moment. “You’ll give in.”

Then her shadows swallowed me as the ground shook. A deep, earth-splitting roar sliced through the Dreaming. Heat blazed at my back, scorching hot, but I knew it as well as I knew my own soul. My heart stammered as a wall of red scales blocked my path.

Rune.

He stood, colossal, furious, his golden eyes burning. His wings stretched, his fire curling from his nostrils as his flames held the shadows at bay. His fire tore through the darkness, ripping the nightmare apart.

“Get up, my Queen,” he ordered, the command rumbling through my chest. His voice wasn’t soft—it never had been. It was fire and fury, molten and ancient. “You can’t stay here. I can’t hold her back forever.”

His jaw snapped, teeth bared. “You have to wake up .”

It was as if a hook had yanked me from the depths, and I violently slammed back into my body. The cold stone bit into my back as I sucked in a breath. Idris was above me, gripping my shoulders, shaking me.

“Vale.” His voice was hoarse—pleading—the worry in it palpable.

I sucked in a sharp breath, my chest burning, the mate bonds screaming through my body. Somehow, I was still in the temple, still on the floor, but the carving beneath my hand was different now.

A new inscription—written in my own blood—seemed engraved in the stone. I blinked, my vision swimming as I tried to focus. The symbols pulsed, shifted, rearranged?—

Then the words revealed themselves:

The Blood of the First will show the way. Seek the one lost to the Dreaming.

Idris stiffened beside me, his voice quiet. Dark.

“What the fuck does that mean?” he growled, sending shivers down my spine.

I gulped down air, trying to get my bearings. I had no idea what those words meant, but I did know one thing. Somewhere, deep inside the Dreaming, “the First” was waiting.

I just didn’t know who that meant.

And I was afraid to find out.

The moment I stood, the ground rumbled. A low, warning tremor, deep as a heartbeat.

Then the temple doors burst open, slamming into the stone with a force that sent dust billowing through the chamber. Sunlight knifed through the dim, spilling across the glowing runes as two hulking figures stormed inside.

Kian and Xavier.

Weapons drawn, breath heaving, their eyes wild and searching.

"What the fuck is going on?" Kian demanded, his voice rough, his gaze locking onto me.

"We heard you scream," Xavier added, his gaze sweeping the chamber as if he expected something to lunge from the shadows.

I opened my mouth—to explain, to reassure—but Idris was already moving.

He stepped between us, his stance coiled and protective. I could feel the heat of his magic wrapping around him, the sharp bite of his power barely restrained. His jaw was tight, unreadable.

Then the temple shifted—not the floor. Not the walls. It was something deeper.

A cold pressure twined around my ribs, sinking into my bones. The air thickened, pressing in, and then they appeared—spectral figures emerging from the walls.

Not quite ghosts.

Not quite alive.

They moved like smoke, clad in golden Luxa robes, their faces blurred, hollow. Whispers flowed through the chamber—not words, not yet—just sounds, drifting like wind through dead trees.

My breath hitched as one stepped forward. The others stilled, waiting as it glided toward me. It lifted its ghostly hand but didn’t touch me—didn’t need to. Her empty gaze burned into mine, and in a voice reminiscent of fractured wind, it spoke, pressing into my mind.

"The blood awakens. The Dreaming calls."

A shiver of unease raced down the length of my spine.

Idris snarled.

His magic surged hot, fire licking over his skin as he shifted forward, his stance braced between me and the figure, shielding me, but the Luxa didn’t attack. They simply watched.

A moment stretched—tense and charged. Then, one by one, they flickered, their robes rippling as their forms dimmed, like shadows retreating from the light.

All but one.

It lingered, watching me. Not like the others. This one knew me.

A pressure built in my chest, heavy and ancient, as if my ribs were forced together with a vise. It wasn’t just looking at me—it was seeing me.

“Blood of the First…”

A sharp jolt of magic ripped through me, searing hot. I gasped, stumbling back as power coiled beneath my skin, gathering like a second heartbeat. Idris moved instantly, his magic flaring in response. Fire licked at the air, heat radiating from his skin as he grabbed my wrist.

"Vale!" His voice was sharp, grounding. But I barely heard him.

"You are the key…"

The words slammed into me, but they weren’t whole. Like an echo of something unfinished. The figure’s edges frayed, flickering like a candle guttering out. And then the temple groaned. The walls shuddered. Dust rained from above. The columns sighed, their runes shifting, rearranging, as if reacting to the words just spoken.

Kian’s curse sliced through the thickening air. “What the fuck is happening?”

He and Xavier were still tense, weapons drawn, preparing to fight the figures that seemed no more solid than ghosts. But I wasn’t looking at them. The pressure twisting around my ribs was deepening. Something else was shifting. Something waiting.

The spectral figure wasn’t gone. Not yet.

Her hollow eyes stayed locked onto mine, and in a voice like a shattered whisper, she gave me an ominous warning.

“Find the lost… before the dreamer wakes.”

A sharp chill ran down my spine, and then it was gone. The temple fell silent. The air stilled.

My palm burned where I’d touched the carving. And when I looked down—a faint glow pulsed just beneath my skin.

Kian’s voice cut through the silence, his tone dark and unreadable. "Vale?"

I swallowed hard, my voice tight. "Yeah?"

His jaw tensed. His gaze darted between the runes on the wall, the faded spirits, and finally, my glowing hand. "What the fuck does that mean?"

I exhaled slowly. My head still spun, my pulse still thundering. I didn’t have an answer. But, I knew one thing. Somewhere, deep inside the Dreaming, "the lost" was waiting.

And I had a feeling we were already running out of time.