The Emissary

The wind had stopped.

That's how I knew we were no longer alone.

Everything—every leaf, every flickering rune beneath the scorched ruins—had fallen silent, like the world was bracing for something unnatural to pass through. The air was thick with pressure, as though time itself was holding its breath. But it wasn't the silence of nature.

It was divine.

The kind of magic that didn't hum like Devani soul magic. This wasn't drawn from life or emotion. It was something older. Colder. Beyond morality. Beyond mercy.

Adam moved first—silent, deadly, immediate.

He stepped in front of me, sword drawn from the sheath on his back. The metal glinted with blood-bonded sigils, forged from ancient silver and shadowsteel. He didn't speak. He didn't blink. But I knew what he was thinking.

He recognized the scent.

The divine stench of the Order.

I moved beside him—not behind.

I wouldn't hide. Not now. Not with fire beneath my skin and the memory of the Vault still burning behind my eyes.

Then I saw it.

The shimmer tore through the air like silk unraveling, and from within it emerged a figure wrapped in robes that gleamed like moonlight on ice. It didn't walk—it hovered just above the ground, feet never touching the dirt. A faint halo of white light circled its head, shifting like smoke, like wings made from breath and bone.

It stopped ten paces from us.

The face beneath the hood wasn't human. It wore the illusion of one—a pale, almost glass-like face, as if carved from polished marble. Its eyes glowed, pupil-less and empty, and a series of living runes flickered down its throat, constantly rearranging like they were rewriting themselves in real-time.

When it spoke, the voice wasn't from its mouth. It came from the sky. The ground. The air.

"Rosaline of Devana."

My name vibrated through my ribcage, like it had been known by the stars long before I'd ever spoken it.

Adam shifted, fangs beginning to edge into view. "Back away," he growled. "Now."

But the creature didn't move.

"You have lit the First Seal," it said, its voice reverberating through the stones. "And the second. You have breached the divine cycle."

I stepped forward, swallowing the tremor rising in my throat.

"You're from the Order?"

"I am one of seven."

It didn't blink.

"What are you here for?"

The figure tilted its head slowly, impossibly.

"To test."

"Test what?" I asked.

"You," it said simply.

Its hand lifted—an inhuman motion, fingers too long, too fluid—and curled toward me.

Instantly, the pendant at my chest pulled forward like it was leashed, yanked by a force I couldn't see. It flared red and gold, vibrating violently. Heat rushed up my neck. I cried out, gripping it instinctively, but it burned like it no longer knew me.

"Adam—!"

He was already moving.

He blurred—a streak of shadow and blade.

"Enough—"

The emissary blinked.

Adam was flung back like a rag doll, slammed into the stone wall behind us with a force that split the rock like thunder. I heard the crunch of stone. Dust flew. He collapsed to the ground in a heap of stillness.

"No!" I screamed. I ran toward him, heart lurching—but the voice stopped me mid-step.

"If he interferes again," it said, voice ringing in every bone, "I will remove him."

My fingers clenched.

Something inside me rose.

Flame. Fury.

The seal on my shoulder blazed, bleeding through the cloth like molten light.

"You want a test?" I hissed, voice rough with rising heat. "Then come and find out what I am."

It raised its hand again—but I was faster.

I moved without thinking.

Fire erupted from my palms, golden-red and spiraling like two great wings. The flames hit the ground and soared upward, wrapping around the creature in a ring of fire. The western sky lit up in gold. The ash and stone around us trembled.

But the emissary didn't flinch.

The fire parted around it, rippling in unnatural silence, flowing like water over glass.

"Elemental," it said. "Unrefined. Devani lineage confirmed."

Then it raised its other hand.

And the flames died.

Snuffed out.

The air dropped twenty degrees in an instant. My breath turned to mist.

Before I could react, the pendant at my chest burst—not violently, but with eerie precision. It unraveled into particles of light, floating between us like pieces of my soul suspended midair.

"No!" I cried, reaching—but I couldn't touch it.

The particles merged.

They formed a symbol—an emblem of the Devani royal crest. A blazing phoenix locked in a cage of fire. A crown. A flame. A burden.

"You are the anchor," it said.

And then it closed its hand.

The pain wasn't physical.

It was existential.

It was a breaking of self, of memory, of identity.

I dropped to my knees with a scream, clutching my head as a thousand visions surged through me at once.

Flashes of lives I'd never lived—queens burned at the stake, warriors bleeding in snow, children screaming through collapsing temples. Faces with my eyes. My fire. My fate.

A thousand Rosalines.

All dying.

All alone.

I couldn't breathe. My ribs felt like they were splitting apart. My magic recoiled, overloaded. Tears streamed down my face. My mind was no longer mine.

And then—hands.

Cool. Strong. Familiar.

They touched my face.

Adam.

"Look at me," he said. His voice was low. Fierce. Quiet enough to cut through chaos.

"Rosaline. Look at me."

His forehead pressed to mine, his hands cupping my face, grounding me. His skin was cold—as always. No heartbeat, no breath. Just stillness. Just him.

I blinked, shaking, gasping.

And then I saw him.

Truly saw him.

And the world snapped back.

The pendant exploded in light.

And reformed.

The creature staggered for the first time, its light dimming. It stepped back—expression unreadable.

Adam rose, placing himself once again between me and the emissary.

"Leave," he said, his voice darker than I'd ever heard it. "Or I'll give the heavens a reason to regret sending you."

The emissary tilted its head. "She has passed the threshold."

"What threshold?" I demanded, wiping blood from my lip.

"The third seal will awaken in grief."

"What does that mean? What grief?"

But the emissary was already fading.

Its body turned to light.

And then it was gone.

Only the scorched ring of earth remained—still steaming.

I collapsed into Adam's arms.

He caught me easily, holding me as if I weighed nothing. I pressed my face to his chest—not expecting warmth or a heartbeat. Just his presence. Just his silence.

"What did it do to me?" I whispered.

He stroked my hair, his voice low.

"It showed you what you were never meant to remember. It tried to drown you in your own echoes."

"I saw so many lives. So many deaths."

"And you came back," he said. "Because you are not just an echo. You're the resonance."

I trembled.

"What if grief awakens the third seal?" I asked. "What if it takes someone I love?"

He didn't answer.

And in his silence… I knew.