Page 14

Chapter

Fourteen

IN THE TEMPLE RUINS

The fire is blue in this chamber. It’s cold, calculated, and fed by old magic. Each flick of the flame holds its own wisdom and strife.

Four figures stand in its glow, their faces shadowed by hoods lined in silver thread.

The tallest one leans over a map of Courtsview etched into obsidian. “She has found the ruins.”

Her calm voice is met with hints of disdain.

“The sword responded?” another asks, voice sharp and high.

“Yes. And the crest appeared again, mirrored.”

A pause.

“She’s not just awakening,” murmurs the third. “She’s aligning.”

A fourth voice speaks now, dry and amused. “And Lysandros?”

“Predictably unpredictable. He’s embedded himself again. Regaining power and momentum.”

“He always loved a lost cause.”

“His involvement could either hurt the cause or bolt it in the right direction. We’re going to have to keep a closer eye on everyone now.”

There’s silence as the map shifts—glowing lines showing movement around the rebel enclave.

“They think knowledge will save them,” the tall one says. “They forget how many of us helped bury it.”

“And the hunter?” asks the second again.

“Still walking, still unbroken. The father will not stop her. He will certainly sacrifice himself if the occasion calls for it.”

“And what of the boy? The wolf-born?”

“He burns. That’s useful.”

They fall quiet, and a breeze whips around full of their harried thoughts. Then the first steps closer to the fire, watching as blue flames curl toward the edge of the map, slowly engulfing the mirrored crest.

“It doesn’t matter if she’s the weapon,” the horned one says at last. “What matters is whether she chooses to fire.”

A glint of something dark and wet rolls across the stone. Not wax, but a rune scorches itself into the corner of the map, jagged and wrong.

A warning.

“Either way,” he finishes, “the city will bleed.”

“And the hunter line will fall.”

The rune still smolders on the obsidian when the second figure steps forward, her voice colder now. “She’s moving too quickly. They all are. If we want the curse to stay buried, we’ll have to act soon.”

“We are acting,” snaps the third. “Patience has gotten us this far.”

“We need more than patience.” Her gaze flicks toward the blue fire. “We need him .”

A beat of silence.

Even the flames seem to dim.

The fourth shifts uneasily. “You don’t mean…”

“I do.”

“No one speaks his name.”

“You think that protects you?” she spits. “If the huntress breaks the curse, if the city awakens fully, he’ll rise whether we want him to or not.”

The tall one waits a beat before speaking. “You think you can control him?”

“I think I can aim him.”

“That’s not control,” mutters the third.

The fourth backs away from the fire slightly. “It’s death.”

“No,” she says. “It’s the only guarantee.”

The tall one finally looks at her. “You’d invite back the thing that built the curse?”

“I’d rather see the world burn on our terms than bow to a huntress we didn’t choose.”

The silence this time isn’t empty. It’s waiting.

And when no one speaks again, it’s clear the agreement is broken.

She turns from them then vanishes into the shadowed corridor.

The fourth watches her go, then glances back at the burning map.

“She’s going to call him,” they whisper.

The tall one doesn’t deny it.

And the fire crackles once, as if laughing.