The Flamebound Truth

She stood perfectly still as the door creaked closed behind us.

Lyra Addington didn't look like someone who'd been erased from every page of Ravencroft's history.

She looked like someone who had written it in blood.

Her hair was the color of stormlight — silver with streaks of gold. Her coat looked stitched from smoke, and her hands, though gentle, pulsed with a faint red glow that made the Ember Key in my pocket shiver.

Julian stood beside me, tense but composed.

He didn't speak first.

Neither did I.

Lyra smiled, faintly, like she'd been expecting this silence.

"Still not ready to ask, Keeper?"

I blinked. "Ask what?"

"Why the fire doesn't burn you."

I stiffened.

She stepped forward, slow and graceful, like she had all the time in the world. She circled me once, her eyes sharp.

"The Ember Key only responds to those marked by the Flamebound. You shouldn't be able to carry it, unless…"

She trailed her fingers lightly over my wrist.

Where the faint thread-shaped scar shimmered again — the one I'd always thought was just from a fall in the woods as a child.

"Unless the bond was written into you long ago."

Julian stepped between us, voice low. "She doesn't remember that yet."

"No," Lyra said, eyes narrowing slightly. "But you do, don't you, Julian?"

He flinched. Just enough for me to see it.

And my breath caught.

"You knew," I said slowly. "You knew more than you let on. You didn't forget everything, did you?"

He didn't deny it.

Didn't speak.

Lyra's smile didn't falter.

"It's not his fault. You were both altered — but only one of you was meant to forget completely. The other was meant to guard the embers until the spark returned."

"You."

Julian looked up then. His jaw was tight. "I didn't know who she was at first. Just that I felt something. A… pull. But when the dreams started coming back, I remembered the thread. The promise."

"And still, you kept it from her?"

"She had to remember on her own."

My heart twisted.

I didn't know if I was more afraid of the lie… or the reason behind it.

The Book pulsed inside my satchel, and Lyra's eyes flicked to it.

"She's almost awake, isn't she?"

I frowned. "Who?"

"The book," Lyra said. "It's not just paper and spellwork. It's alive. It carries fragments of every Keeper before you. Every memory, every vow, every wound."

"And Anastasia's soul is still bound to it."

Julian's hand found mine — tentative, trembling.

"We don't know what that means yet."

Lyra gave him a look. "But we will."

She turned back to me, the flame at her fingertips growing brighter now.

"You came for answers. I'll give you one. But only if you're ready to see what you were before."

I hesitated.

Then nodded.

"Show me."

She reached for my hand, pressed her palm to mine.

Heat surged up my arm — not burning, but dizzying. Like falling through a fever dream.

And then—

The chamber spun.

The candles brightened.

The world tilted.

And I was no longer standing in the Hearth.

I was in the courtyard.

Eight years ago.

A little girl with tangled hair sat beneath a broken statue, her hands covered in soot. A thread wound around her wrist — not red, but black.

Beside her, a boy.

Julian.

And in front of them — Lyra.

"She's ready," the older Lyra said. "You've taught her well."

"She's scared," Julian whispered. "She dreams about the fire."

"That's how we know she's the one."

I saw myself light a candle with my bare fingers.

I saw Lyra kneel and mark my forehead with ash.

I saw Julian cry — not from fear, but because he knew what we were giving up.

"No one will remember this," Lyra whispered. "Not even you. Not until it's time."

And then—

The world ripped back.

I collapsed to my knees on the Hearth floor, coughing, gasping.

Julian knelt beside me instantly, his hands on my shoulders.

"You okay?"

I looked at him.

And I remembered.

The ashes. The promise. The flame.

"You were there," I whispered. "When she sealed it."

"Yes."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

He looked away. "Because I didn't want you to choose me just because of the past."

I stood slowly.

Hands shaking.

Lyra stepped back.

"The memory is only part of it. The rest… you'll have to earn."

"Elena," she added gently, "your bond with Julian was forged in fire. But your thread to Theo? That was forged in choice. Remember that."

I swallowed hard.

The guilt twisted deeper.

"Do you know where he is?" I asked. "Theo. He didn't return after the Listening Room."

Lyra's expression changed.

For the first time since we entered — it faltered.

"You haven't heard, then."

My stomach dropped. "Heard what?"

"Theo never made it back to his dorm," she said slowly. "But he left a message on the mirror shard in the south observatory."

Julian's head snapped up. "He used the mirror?"

"Just once," Lyra confirmed. "Enough to say one thing."

I whispered, "What?"

She looked at me.

"I remember something I was never meant to."

The next hours blurred.

We left the Hearth.

We returned to the dorms.

But Theo wasn't there.

No one had seen him since the Listening Room.

I barely slept.

I kept staring at the Book.

Waiting for it to show me something—anything.

Finally, it did.

At three in the morning, it flipped open to a new page.

A note.

In Theo's handwriting.

Scrawled between names like a secret buried in a ledger.

Don't trust everyone who remembers you.

Some of them only remember how to break you better.

I closed the Book.

Heart in my throat.

And whispered into the dark:

"Theo… where are you?"