CHAPTER 30- Embers in the ash

The wind that swept the old hills carried a chill sharper than steel. It whispered through the broken teeth of the ruined watermill, stirred the grass, and fluttered the scorched edge of Ashra's cloak as she wrapped it tighter around her shoulders.

They hadn't spoken for a long while.

Not since the crow vanished.

Not since the mark on Corwin's hand flared with that unnatural heat—hot enough to scar his bones, though the skin was unmarred.

They'd taken shelter beneath a crumbled arch half a mile from the altar. Liran had set a low fire between the stones, but kept it banked and smokeless. A flask of bitterleaf tea simmered beside it—Ashra's doing, though none of them had touched it.

Corwin sat with his back against a mossy wall, staring at his hand.

He hadn't said anything, not since the crow's message had landed inside his head like a dagger wrapped in velvet:

> "You are being watched. The next seal is waking. My mistress sends warning—do not walk blind into the Breach."

The words lingered, echoing longer than sound should.

Liran finally broke the silence. "We need to move. We're exposed out here."

Ashra glanced at him, but her voice stayed soft. "He's not ready."

Liran exhaled slowly and looked away.

Corwin stirred. "I felt it before it said anything. The crow. I mean… it was like the moment I touched the seal—something else saw me back."

Neither of them interrupted.

He looked up. "Do you believe there's… someone else watching this? Not the Carrion. Someone older. Or deeper."

Ashra hesitated. "There were always rumors. About Watchers. Those who keep vigil over the broken gates of alchemy. Old ideas from the Guilds—some called them the Bound. Others said they were the Alchemist's failed shadows."

Liran shook his head. "All myths. You start chasing stories inside stories, you'll drown before you hit the truth."

Corwin didn't argue. But the mark pulsed again—quietly now, like a sleeping heart.

"There's more," he said. "The crow said my mistress. Whoever sent it… they're tracking us, or tracking the Circuit."

Ashra's brow furrowed. "Then we need to find out who."

"And where the next seal is," Corwin added. "The Circuit doesn't stop here."

He pulled the map from his coat. It had changed again—subtly. One of the rings around the edge had begun to glow, a faint silver now shimmering where once it had been dull.

Ashra leaned closer. "There. See the arc across the bottom quadrant?"

Liran nodded. "That's the Weirlow Basin. Past the Redrun River."

"That's Carrion territory," Ashra said grimly. "There's no way we walk in without being noticed."

"Then we don't walk in," Corwin said. "We prepare first. Properly this time."

Ashra gave him a look—surprised. A small nod of approval.

He continued, quieter now. "We'll need more knowledge. Tools. Allies. Whatever the Carrion Order is trying to keep buried, it's not just about the past. It's about something that's still alive."

A silence followed. The kind that came with shared understanding.

Liran finally stood. "There's a contact of mine—east of the Harrow Pass. Sells to both sides. He deals in lost texts and forbidden rites. If anyone knows about a second seal, it's him."

Ashra raised an eyebrow. "He trust you?"

"No," Liran replied. "But he fears me. That's enough."

Corwin folded the map. "Then we start there."

He stood slowly, feeling the weight of the moment settle on his shoulders. For the first time, the old thrill of curiosity had dulled into something heavier. The Circuit was not a puzzle to solve. It was a door.

And something waited behind it.

He glanced up at the stars—just beginning to break through the ash-colored clouds above.

Somewhere out there, another seal stirred. And the one who sent the crow—the mistress—was watching to see what he'd do next.