Chapter 39. The Trial of Flame

The pain from the wound was no longer agony; it was a key turning in a lock.

Neriah could feel the last, exhausted flicker of consciousness draining away, leaving her body cold and heavy against Caius’s comforting solidity. The Moon Priestess’s seed, embedded in her shoulder, had completed its fight against the dark corruption from Lyra’s blade. Now, it was done purifying the flesh; it began purifying the soul.

“Stay with me, Neriah. Just breathe,” Caius’s voice was a distant, muffled reassurance, but his touch was frantic on her skin.

Then, the world shattered.

It began not with fire, but with ice. A sudden, agonizing chill ripped her consciousness free from her body. Neriah was no longer in the blackthorn thicket. She was floating in a boundless void, a space that smelled of ozone and scorched, ancient memory.

The void was silent, save for a deafening roar that seemed to emanate from her own chest. It was the sound of the Ashen Flame, now unleashed fr