Chapter 15 : Ash in the Wind

The wind had changed.

Eren felt it before he heard it the stillness in the trees, the sudden absence of birdsong, and the sharp bite in the air that hadn't been there an hour before. He stood at the edge of the ruined keep's inner courtyard, gazing toward the darkened woods where the masked emissaries of the Silver Veil had vanished.

The fire inside the hall crackled quietly. Elira sat near it, sharpening a short blade, her focus unbroken.

But Eren was not still. Sleep had eluded him. His thoughts spiraled in silence visions of Cael, of the burning rift beyond the veil, and the masked man's words about the flame's true origin. He knew better than to trust a stranger. But he also knew the fear in Elira's voice wasn't just paranoia.

It was guilt.

And guilt never came without reason.

He reached for Akreth.

The sword felt different now heavier in its sheath, but strangely calmer. As though the merger had satisfied a hunger that had plagued it for centuries. Yet, beneath that quiet, there was heat. Contained. Waiting.

He drew the blade slightly, letting moonlight slide along its edge. The runes along the fuller glowed softly not the wild flare of rage he had seen before, but a low, steady burn. The kind of fire that smolders long before it erupts.

Elira's voice came from behind him.

"It listens to you now."

He nodded, not looking back. "But it hasn't spoken since the merge."

"That's good," she said. "The voice isn't something you want often."

He sheathed the sword and turned toward her. "You knew I'd see it, didn't you? The Threshold."

Elira set her blade down carefully. "Everyone who gets that close to Akreth's core sees it eventually. But few survive long enough to speak of it."

"What is it really?" he asked. "What's beyond that veil?"

She looked up at him. Her face was calm, but her eyes told another story.

"Nothing pure."

They sat in silence for a while. The fire popped. Ash drifted in lazy spirals through the air.

Eren finally spoke again.

"They'll be back. The Silver Veil. They won't wait for me to decide."

"I know," she said.

"I won't go with them."

"I didn't expect you to."

"But we need to move. If the Covenant or the Red Circle are already hunting…"

Elira stood. "Then we don't wait for them to find us. We move first."

He raised an eyebrow. "Where?"

"To the edge of the Black Spire. There's a place there a ruin older than even Serathei. They called it the Mirror Hall. It was used by the Seers to record the first bearer's memories."

Eren blinked. "There's a record of him?"

"Not words," Elira said. "Reflections. Echoes. The Hall doesn't tell stories. It shows them."

"And what if the flame shows me something I can't come back from?"

Elira's expression didn't change.

"Then at least we'll know who you're becoming."

They packed quickly. What little they had water, salves, dried rations was stowed into light bundles. Before the sun could fully rise, they were on the road again, heading north beneath a sky the color of steel.

The forest changed as they moved.

Trees grew taller, but their branches twisted unnaturally. The wind howled through them in unnatural patterns, carrying whispers that Eren had to work to ignore. Elira remained quiet, her eyes alert, her pace brisk.

They crossed through a shallow ravine by noon, where the ruins of an old war camp lay scattered. Rusted blades jutted from the ground like the bones of a forgotten army. Symbols etched into broken shields marked the banners of three different factions none of them familiar.

Eren stopped near a toppled standard. "Did they fight over the sword?"

"No," Elira said. "They fought over fear of it."

By nightfall, they reached the edge of the Spire's shadow.

The Black Spire wasn't a mountain in the traditional sense. It was a jagged wound in the earth a single black monolith of stone that pierced the sky, its peak lost in mist. No birds flew near it. No beasts lived beneath it. The land itself grew silent in its presence.

At the base of the Spire was a crater, and within it barely visible in the moonlight stood a ring of broken pillars.

The Mirror Hall.

Eren and Elira made camp at the rim, too exhausted to explore in darkness.

That night, sleep finally came but it brought no rest.

Eren dreamt of fire. Of himself, standing at the edge of the Threshold again. But this time, the void wasn't empty.

A figure waited.

Not the same one from before. This one wore his face.

It spoke without speaking.

"You are not the first. You will not be the last. But you will burn brighter than all who came before."

Eren awoke with a start. Sweat clung to his skin. The stars above were dim behind drifting ash.

Elira stirred. "You saw something again."

He nodded. "Myself. But not... me."

"Then the Hall is ready."