Lunador never truly slept.
Even when night strangled the stars and the crescent moon retreated behind thick storm-clouds, the palace remained awake in secret ways—enchanted lamps pulsing with life, marble floors whispering with warding spells, and unseen eyes watching from every corner. Magic here did not rest; it breathed, it moved, it remembered.
And in the center of it all, Eira burned.
---
She bolted upright in bed, drenched in sweat, gasping like she'd surfaced from drowning.
A dream—no, a vision—lingered behind her eyes. Fire. Not wild, but coiled. Contained. Watching. Waiting. It hadn't spoken to her, but she'd felt its gaze.
Her sheets clung to her like ivy, and the scent of scorched air clung to the room.
Still half in the dream, Eira stumbled to her mirror. Her reflection stared back, pale and wide-eyed. But there was something different this time.
Her irises shimmered.
Not golden like they had before, but the color of copper newly forged—molten and alive. She blinked, and the glow dimmed, retreating like a beast unsure whether to pounce or wait.
The Ember Sigil had grown stronger.
She yanked open her drawer and pulled out her mother's locket, hidden beneath gloves and illusion charms. It pulsed like a heartbeat in her hand—one beat, then two—matching the rhythm of her own. The sigil engraved into its face shimmered faintly, no longer dormant.
Whatever had changed in her since the Thorn Waltz… it wasn't over.
A knock broke the silence.
Eira's hands were already at her side, gripping the small blade hidden beneath her bed robe.
"Who is it?"
Corren's voice replied, hushed but urgent. "It's me. We need to talk."
She opened the door.
He stepped inside, his face grim. "You're not going to like this."
"That's the theme of the week," she muttered, securing her cloak.
He handed her a folded note. The paper was thick, scented faintly with rose and ash. The seal had already been cracked—a black obsidian rose pressed in wax.
She unfolded it.
> "The fire dances well, but fire uncontained consumes. The Queen watches. So do others. Follow the roots if you wish to find the source. Midnight. The Hollow Garden."
Her spine stiffened. "The Hollow Garden?"
Cassian entered without waiting for an invitation. His face was flushed, clearly having rushed.
"She's being lured," he said bluntly. "This reeks of a setup."
Eira's eyes scanned the message again. The phrasing… the metaphor… It didn't feel like a trap. It felt like a challenge.
"She used the word roots," she murmured. "Whoever wrote this knows what the Ember Sigil really is."
Corren crossed his arms. "So we're assuming this isn't a suicide mission?"
"No." Her voice was resolute. "It's an invitation. Someone knows more than they should. And if I don't go, I may never know what I'm missing."
Cassian swore under his breath. "We'll go with you."
She shook her head. "No. If this person is scared enough to use cryptic warnings and secret gardens, they won't show themselves if I bring backup."
Corren reached into his coat and handed her a crystal no larger than a coin. "Fine. Take this. Snap it if things go sideways."
She tucked it into her glove. "If I'm not back by dawn—"
"You won't be dead," Cassian growled. "Because I'm tailing you whether you like it or not."
Eira offered a small smile. "As long as you stay out of sight."
She fastened her cloak, masked her face, and slipped through the hidden corridor that led from her quarters to the east wing of the palace. The Hollow Garden lay beyond the royal wing—past the reflecting pools, behind a set of enchanted gates sealed for decades.
And tonight, those gates stood open.
---
The Hollow Garden was not a garden in the usual sense.
The air was thick, damp with ancient spells and the rot of forgotten things. Trees hung with moss and vines, bending inward like they were listening. Roses grew in shades not found in nature—black veined with silver, deep crimson with petals shaped like knives.
Eira moved carefully, each step echoing like a drumbeat in her ears.
The statues here were different from those in the royal halls—these were women with mouths open in silent screams, thorns crawling from their eyes, and hands lifted toward the sky as if begging for salvation.
She passed through a tunnel of arching vines.
Then heard it.
A melody.
Soft. Otherworldly.
It was not being sung in a language she recognized, but the meaning of it struck her heart: sorrow, loss, fire contained too long.
She followed it.
At the center of the garden, nestled in a clearing lit by pale blue fireflies, stood a stone archway half-buried by the earth. Symbols were etched across its surface—old, older than the Palace, older than the Queen.
And standing before it…
A girl.
Cloaked in white.
No mask.
Hair like dark water poured over her shoulders. Her presence struck Eira instantly—like looking into a mirror warped by time.
The girl didn't turn. "I wasn't sure you'd come."
"Who are you?" Eira asked, her hand at her blade.
The girl turned.
And Eira's breath caught in her throat.
She had her cheekbones. Her nose. Her eyes.
But paler. Almost faded. Like a painting left too long in the sun.
"I'm not your sister," the girl said softly. "Though I suppose I could be."
Eira stepped closer, wary. "What are you?"
The girl smiled faintly. "A reflection. The part of you the Queen tried to erase."
Eira gritted her teeth. "Stop speaking in riddles."
"Fine." The girl lifted her hand and placed it on the stone.
The symbols flared to life—glowing with the same ember-copper hue as Eira's eyes.
"This door," the girl whispered, "was built to seal what remained of the Ember Line. After the Queen tore it apart. After she slaughtered the fireborn."
Eira's chest tightened.
"You know who I am," she said.
"I know what you are," the girl corrected. "You're not just a pawn in this masquerade. You're a legacy. A spark buried in ash."
The door cracked open with a groan.
Inside was a chamber of obsidian and carved glass, with walls etched in language so old it felt like magic itself. Floating in the center was a pedestal.
Upon it sat a second locket.
Identical to Eira's.
But split down the center. Cracked.
Eira approached it slowly. "This was hers…"
"Your mother's other half," the girl confirmed. "The Queen tried to destroy both pieces. But magic like this can't be destroyed. Only scattered."
Eira reached for the locket.
The moment her fingers brushed the surface, fire surged through her body.
The room pulsed.
Symbols on the walls lit up.
The two lockets—hers and this one—glowed in tandem. Then fused, briefly, into a single flickering sigil in the air above the pedestal.
A key.
The Ember Sigil wasn't just a mark of power.
It was a map.
The girl placed her hand over Eira's.
"She died trying to awaken this," she said. "And now the Queen will kill you if she realizes it's returned."
Eira clenched her jaw. "Then I'll make her regret not finishing the job the first time."
The girl stepped back, her voice dropping low. "The Queen has eyes in this garden. You need to leave now."
"Who are you?" Eira asked again.
The girl smiled. "You already know."
Then she was gone—fading into mist, leaving only heat behind.
---
By the time Eira returned to her quarters, dawn's first light was bleeding across the sky.
Cassian and Corren sat waiting, both rising when she entered.
She dropped the locket onto the table.
They stared.
"You found another?"
"No," Eira said softly. "I found the other half."
She held up her own locket. The pieces pulsed in sync, even apart. Magic like a heartbeat.
Cassian's voice was hoarse. "This... changes everything."
Corren took the cracked one and inspected it. "You said someone gave you this?"
"She didn't give it," Eira murmured. "She showed me where it was. And she wasn't real. At least not in the usual way."
Cassian looked at her. "You've changed."
Eira didn't deny it. The fire inside her wasn't dormant anymore.
She rolled up her sleeve.
The Ember Sigil blazed on her skin—bright, alive, and no longer hiding.
It had evolved. Shifted.
Not red.
Not copper.
But white flame, threaded with gold.
Cassian stepped back. "That's not just Emberborn. That's pre-Banishment fire."
Corren's voice was low. "That's royal Flameborne blood."
Eira looked up.
"Then it's time we start acting like it."