Chapter 20 – Ashes of Oaths and Fire

The cavern roared with ancient power.

Seraphina stood on the edge of the ritual circle, her chest rising and falling like a woman drowning in magic. Her fingers trembled, not with fear but with fury. The flames that danced around her responded to her pulse. Her blood. Her will.

Kaelen lay at the center of the stone circle, unmoving. The cursed runes still glowed faintly on his chest, half-burned into his skin after the Wyrm's emergence in the Hollow Temple. His breath was shallow. Too shallow.

And the voice in her head no longer just a whisper was demanding blood.

"You must complete the burning," it hissed. "Or he dies without honor. Without redemption."

Seraphina's eyes darted toward the ceremonial blade beside her. She had retrieved it from the ruins of the Moon Altar one of the few objects still laced with truth magic. It was said to sever curses when used willingly by the cursed… or their mate.

But it required a price.

Across the cavern, smoke curled into shadows. From those shadows emerged Imra, face pale, hands coated in dried blood. Her robes clung to her like tattered wings, and her eyes were wild with exhaustion.

"You're not ready for this, Seraphina," she said, her voice low. "The Flameborn rite once started cannot be undone."

Seraphina didn't answer. She stepped forward, barefoot on sacred ground, her aura sparking golden and violet. Runes bloomed along her arms like waking constellations.

"He'll die," Seraphina said quietly, "if I don't do this."

"And if you do," Imra shot back, "you might set the Wyrm free entirely. The line between resurrection and possession is razor-thin, child."

Behind her, Malric watched, quiet and unreadable. His role in the council had shifted from adviser to something more… watchful. Ever since the betrayal, ever since his allegiance was questioned, he had been walking the line of exile. And yet, here he stood offering no protest, no aid. Just watching.

"Let him go," he said finally. "You're trying to reverse fate, and fate doesn't bargain."

Seraphina turned to him, her eyes glowing. "Fate can burn."

Then she stepped into the circle.

The flames around her bent inward, touching her skin but not consuming her. Her hair lifted as if caught in a storm. She dropped to her knees beside Kaelen, brushing a lock of hair from his sweat-slicked brow.

His eyes fluttered open barely.

"Sera…" His voice was broken glass.

"I'm here," she whispered. "I'm going to fix this."

"No," he rasped. "You… can't…"

A tear slipped down her cheek. She hadn't cried since the Wyrm's rise. She didn't even realize she could anymore. But the weight of Kaelen's voice so fragile, so full of pain broke something loose.

"I won't let you die," she said. "Not for this curse. Not for their war."

The ancient seal beneath them began to spin, runes glowing white-hot. A sound like a heartbeat deep and ancient rattled the cavern walls.

Imra gasped. "She's invoking the Old Flame…"

The circle blazed to life.

Kaelen screamed as fire kissed his skin not burning, not hurting, but purifying. His eyes rolled back, and the rune on his chest flared gold, then red, then black. And then…

Shattered.

He gasped, arching off the ground.

Seraphina grabbed his shoulders. "Kaelen! Look at me!"

He blinked.

For a moment, the world held its breath.

Then the shadows on the ceiling moved.

"No!" Imra screamed. "The Wyrm it's still in him!"

But it wasn't.

The Wyrm had bled through him. Now it was in the circle. Rising.

A figure began to form smoke and ash, bone and memory. Eyes like coals. Teeth like spears. The Wyrm was birthing itself into the world through Kaelen's death, through Seraphina's fire.

Malric stepped forward, raising a warding staff. "Get back!"

Seraphina stood, her arms shielding Kaelen, even as her power flickered from overuse.

"No," she said, her voice firm. "This ends here."

The Wyrm hissed, its voice both a whisper and an avalanche. "You broke the seal. You burned the oath. Now I burn the blood."

And with a roar, it surged toward them.

Seraphina didn't run.

She threw both hands forward, channeling everything her fire, her fear, her love. The blaze erupted, golden-white, cutting into the Wyrm like divine judgment.

The scream that followed could've cracked the moon.

The Wyrm reeled, smoking, howling and then

Gone.

Not destroyed. Not defeated.

Just… sent back.

Imra collapsed to her knees, eyes wide.

Kaelen lay still, but breathing. And the rune on his chest? It was gone.

Seraphina dropped to the ground, panting, her skin glowing faintly.

It was done.

For now.

Hours later, as the cavern emptied and the sacred fires dimmed, Seraphina stood at the cliff just outside, watching the stars flicker into view.

Kaelen joined her, his arm still weak but slung over her shoulder.

"You could've died," he said softly.

"So could you."

"I did," he said. "For a minute there… I wasn't me."

She turned to him, studying his face. "What did you see?"

He didn't answer. Just stared at the horizon.

After a long silence, he murmured, "It's not over."

She nodded. "I know."

From the shadows, a crow landed on a broken stone.

Tied to its leg: a scroll.

Seraphina plucked it free, heart pounding.

The seal was old. Worn.

But the writing was clear.

"Come to the Cavern of Echoes. The Second Curse waits."