“Rachel!” Dylan’s voice tore through the chaos, but the roar of the collapsing Vault swallowed the sound before it could reach her.Dust poured from the ceiling in thick clouds. Cracks spread across the chamber floor like veins, and the once-glowing runes blinked and died one by one, dimming like fading stars in the night sky.But Rachel didn’t move.She stood motionless in the eye of the storm, arms raised with palms open, her chest radiating a core of molten light. The shadow of the Source had fused with her—half-formed, shrieking through her bones with every pulse of power. A dark silhouette clung to her spine, snaking its way through her veins, trying to consume her from within.“She’s still conscious,” Nyra said through gritted teeth as she braced herself against a cracked support pillar. “But the merge isn’t holding. That thing inside her—it’s not bonding. It’s tearing her apart.”“We have to get her out of there!” Dylan shouted, staggering to his feet despite the fresh blood dr
“I know you,” Rachel said, her voice hoarse as the storm of echoes crumbled to ash around her.The figure stepped from the cracked remains of the crystal, unfazed by the collapsing Vault, as if the chaos had only been her introduction. Female in shape, her skin shimmered like polished obsidian streaked with veins of molten gold. Her smile was soft, but it never reached her eyes.And those eyes—those were wrong.Rachel had seen thousands of expressions in battle—fear, rage, madness, and grief—but the look in this one’s eyes was something else entirely. It was the gaze of someone who had already decided the outcome. It wasn’t fury or curiosity; it was finality. This woman looked at her as if Rachel had already lost.“You know what I was,” the figure said, her voice layered—one tone above, another humming beneath it, weaving through the air like music and menace. “But you don’t yet understand what I’ve become.”Dylan dropped from the shattered ledge, landing in a crouch beside Rachel. Bl
The Vault burned with a light not of this world—silver flame clashing with red mist as lunar magic tore through shadows born of memory and pain. Rachel stood at the center of the chaos, her arms raised high, every nerve in her body screaming as if set ablaze. She didn’t remember casting the spell; her body had moved purely on instinct, driven by fear—and by something older, deeper, and far more ancient than conscious thought.All around her, the echoes screamed as they scattered across the chamber. Each wore her face—or Elira’s, or Seris’s—but none of them looked truly alive. They moved like twisted puppets, bent under the weight of some unseen will, and their voices whispered her darkest fears back at her in tones that sounded far too familiar.“You’ll become her.”“You already are her.”“No one will stop you when it happens—not even him.”Rachel’s breath caught in her throat, and her hands trembled uncontrollably. Not now. Not again. Not this nightmare echoing back.“Shut up,” she h
“Look at that—” Stacy gasped, pointing at the map. “It’s moving.”The crimson mist wasn't just a pulse anymore. On the projection, it was crawling outward from the trench, branching like veins and stretching toward the continental ley lines with an unnatural and alarming speed.Nyra cursed under her breath. “It’s feeding off residual energy. Every seal Rachel broke, every site the Flame touched—it’s using those fragments to wake itself up.”Rachel leaned over the table, her eyes locked on the spreading pattern with growing dread. “This isn't just a gate opening. It's a full rewrite of the magical structure.”Dylan’s jaw tensed as the implications settled in. “Then we go in and shut it down before it completes whatever it’s trying to do.”“No,” Nyra snapped, her tone sharp and warning. “That’s the origin point of lunar magic. It’s older than all of us combined. You don’t just ‘go in’ to the Vault—you step directly into the source of what shaped your entire bloodline.”Rachel turned tow
Dylan stood at the far end of the infirmary, watching Rachel sleep.Not with tenderness.With fear.Not for her—but for what she’d done. For what she now carried.She had survived absorbing the First Flame.She had done what no one else in the magical world dared attempt—she didn’t defeat power. She claimed it. She swallowed it whole.And now she lay there, peaceful… but different.Something about her energy had shifted. Quieter, more compressed. Not gone. Not dormant. Just… waiting.Dylan’s arms were crossed, muscles tense beneath the sleeves of his shirt. He hadn’t shifted in two days. Hadn’t slept more than an hour at a time.Grayson stepped in behind him, his boots soft on the infirmary tile. “Still watching her breathe?”Dylan didn’t glance back. “I’m waiting to see who wakes up.”Grayson leaned against the wall, arms folded, voice gentler than usual. “You’re afraid she’s not Rachel anymore.”“I know she’s Rachel.” Dylan’s voice was steady, but thin. “But I don’t know how much of
The penthouse war room glowed with a pale blue light, cast by the rune-mapped floor, as if the building itself sensed the approaching storm. Silence filled the space—not peaceful, but dense with anticipation.Rachel stood at the center, arms folded, eyes locked on the central projection. It displayed three magical convergence points: Ashvale, Edran, and a third, unstable location that flickered with unreadable energy.“She’s building a triangle,” Nyra said as she paced the room, arms crossed tightly. “Each site is anchored to an echo of your bloodline—Elira, Seris, and now…”Rachel didn’t flinch. “Me,” she said quietly.Nyra gave a solemn nod. “Most likely.”“She’s using your connection,” Dylan added, stepping closer to the map. “That’s why the third point won’t stabilize unless you’re near it.”“Or unless she forces it,” Stacy muttered. “What exactly does the spell do?”Nyra hesitated, her voice low. “It resets the leyline distribution across the entire continent.”Stacy’s brow furro