Lucien had fought gods, devoured stars, and danced through realms most beings couldn't pronounce.
But nothing unsettled him more than watching Lena sleep.
Not because of what she did.
But because of what he could feel.
The fire inside her — it pulsed now.
Rhythmic. Ancient. And wrong.
Not wrong like evil.
Wrong like… not meant for this world.
He brushed a strand of hair from her face.
She didn't stir.
But the flames curled in her fingertips even in slumber, licking the edge of her cloak without burning it.
She was no longer just the girl who saved him.
She was becoming something other.
And he didn't know how to stop it.
Or if he should.
When morning came, Lena rose first.
She didn't wait for Lucien.
She didn't look at him.
She wandered into the woods with a strange urgency — as if her body was moving before her mind could catch up.
Lucien followed, careful not to disturb the silence.
He found her standing at a clearing, barefoot in the grass, her eyes closed, her palms raised toward the sun.
But it wasn't sunlight she was drawing in.
It was heat.
Raw, invisible.
The forest around her wilted — leaves curling in on themselves, bark cracking.
The ground beneath her feet steamed.
Lucien stepped closer. "Lena—"
She turned sharply.
Her eyes flared — fire around the edges, flickering gold.
Then softened.
She blinked, breath catching. "I… I didn't mean to—"
He reached her, holding her face gently. "I know."
But even as he said it, a voice echoed inside him:
"She won't stop."
Later, Aria pulled Lucien aside.
"She's losing control."
"She's adapting," Lucien said flatly.
"You're lying to yourself."
Lucien stared at the horizon.
"She's strong."
"She's changing."
Lucien remained silent.
Aria's voice dropped.
"There are stories. About fire gods who went mad. About flames that consume their vessels. If that's what this is…"
He turned, voice sharp. "She's not them."
"But what if she becomes something worse?"
That night, Lena couldn't sleep.
The fire inside her was louder.
It didn't burn. It sang.
A melody of destruction and rebirth.
She walked alone into the forest again.
Only this time, she wasn't followed.
Because Lucien was watching from a distance.
Hidden.
He didn't want to spy.
But he had to know.
And what he saw chilled him more than the void ever had.
Lena stood before a tree.
Her hand touched the bark.
And the entire trunk exploded into ash.
No fire. No smoke. Just obliteration.
She fell to her knees, shaking.
Her voice cracked as she whispered to no one:
"I can't control it. I can't—please—stop—"
Lucien appeared then, unable to watch anymore.
He pulled her into his arms.
She sobbed into his chest.
"I didn't mean to—"
"I know."
"I was trying to heal it—"
"I know."
But deep down, a crack had formed in his heart.
Because what she destroyed wasn't just a tree.
It was life.
And she didn't even try to.
The next day, Lucien met with Aria.
"We have to find the Ember's origin."
Aria nodded. "There's a place. The Catacombs of Aevum. Buried beneath the Cradle of Ash. It holds relics from before the gods."
Lucien nodded. "Then we go."
"She can't come."
Lucien hesitated.
"I won't leave her."
Aria stepped closer. "This isn't about trust anymore. It's about safety. For everyone."
Lucien didn't answer.
Because every part of him screamed to stay at Lena's side.
But another part — the god part — knew what had to be done.
That night, he told her.
"I'm leaving. Just for a while."
Her eyes flashed. "Why?"
"There's a place that might have answers. About the Ember. About you."
Lena's voice dropped. "You mean about what I'm becoming."
Lucien didn't lie. "Yes."
She looked away.
The fire in her eyes dimmed.
"You don't trust me."
"I love you," he said. "Enough to do whatever it takes to protect you. Even if that means stepping away — just for a moment."
Her silence was sharp.
But then she nodded.
"Then go."
He touched her hand.
It was warm.
Too warm.
As if the flame inside her resented his choice.
He kissed her forehead.
And left.
When he was gone, Lena stood alone in the forest.
The fire whispered again.
But this time, she didn't resist.
She walked deeper.
Past the trees. Past the soil.
Until the forest gave way to glass — scorched earth that remembered ancient fires.
And there, in the center, something waited.
A shard of obsidian.
Pulsing red.
She didn't know what it was.
But it knew her.
When she touched it—
The world turned black.