Mara stared into the floating Heart—its ember glow now pulsing in rhythm with her breath. The shard in her hands trembled. Energy surged through her fingertips, not painful, but ancient. Familiar.
The Ashborn woman watched in silence, her expression unreadable.
Bind the flame…
Or become it.
A thousand thoughts stormed through Mara's mind: her mother's last words, the silence that had haunted her since, the dreams she'd ignored. But above all, the faces of those who had died—because no one stopped this before.
"I didn't come to be a weapon," she whispered.
The Heart pulsed brighter.
"But I won't be a shadow either."
She stepped forward—and pressed her shard into the burning core.
The temple shook. Light exploded outward in a silent flash. Mara cried out as her body lifted from the floor, her limbs suspended in glowing strands of flame. The room blurred, and a rush of visions poured into her:
—The first Ember War.
—The breaking of the world.
—The pact that sealed the Heart—and the betrayal that fractured it.
—And finally… her mother, placing the final shard into a child's hand and running into the fire.
Her own scream broke the memory.
Then—silence.
The light faded.
Mara collapsed to the floor, gasping. Her skin steamed, her hands scorched, but alive. When she looked up, the Heart no longer floated. It had embedded itself in her chest—just below her collarbone—a soft, glowing pulse beneath her skin.
The Ashborn woman knelt beside her.
"You did not bind it," she said. "You became it."
Mara could only nod, her voice lost in the rush of heat and memory.
"Then the world will change," the woman said. "For better… or for worse."
Outside, the ember sky dimmed for the first time in decades—just enough to reveal the faintest hint of dawn behind the smoke.
But from the shadows beyond the temple, something stirred.
Something had felt the awakening.
And it was coming.
---