The tower loomed before them, ancient and grieving.
It rose from the sea like the broken tooth of a long-dead god—tilted, cracked, but not fallen. Vines choked its stone like veins. Its windows blinked with shadows.
Eira disembarked first, flame coiled in her palm. Kael was only a step behind her, sword already drawn. The moment her boots touched the slick obsidian stone, the mist parted—as if it knew her.
Or feared her.
The man in white stood on the water itself.
He smiled as she approached. Not warmly. Not cruelly. Just… knowingly.
"Welcome home, Yreyth'ael," he said.
Eira froze. "That is not my name."
He tilted his head. "It will be."
---
A Man with No Shadow
Lysathe stepped forward.
"You are not of Moondrown," she said, fingers twitching toward the dagger at her hip.
"I am older than Moondrown," the man replied. "Older than fire. I was once called Kharion. First of the Bound."
Naima narrowed her eyes. "Bound to what?"
"To her bloodline," he said, pointing to Eira.
Kael growled, stepping between them. "Start explaining."
Kharion didn't flinch. "Thousands of years ago, before your kingdoms, your gods, your flames—there were keepers. Mortals bound to magic not by will, but by blood. Eira's line was the last… the strongest. And she—" he looked at her, reverent and terrifying— "was born to seal the Hollow. Or open him."
Eira's breath hitched.
Kharion stepped closer.
"And I was the first sacrifice. Bound to wait. To guide her."
---
The Tower Speaks
Inside, the tower was more alive than stone had any right to be.
The walls pulsed faintly, as if breathing.
Rooms rearranged themselves. Doors opened only when Eira passed by. She felt her fire grow hungrier here—ravenous, untamed. It licked the air even when she tried to hold it back.
Naima whispered, "This place is dangerous."
Lysathe nodded. "It is a memory that refuses to die."
Kael looked at Eira. "And you belong to it."
"I never asked to," she murmured.
"But it knows you," Kharion said from behind, his voice echoing through the hall. "It remembers what you were. It remembers him, too."
"Who?" she asked.
Kharion's voice was almost gentle.
"Your twin."
---
Bloodline Secrets
Silence swallowed them.
"My what?" Eira breathed.
"Your mother had two," Kharion said. "One was born with the flame. One was born hollow. She hid the second… for your sake."
Kael turned sharply. "She never told her—"
"She died before she could," Kharion said. "The Hollow One found him. Fed him. Molded him."
Eira felt her knees weaken.
Her twin… alive?
A twin she never knew?
And the vision in the black pool… the one where the world burned—was he wearing the crown?
"I need to find him," she whispered.
Kharion stepped into the light. "He will find you."
---
The Tower's Heart
They reached the center.
A chamber carved from obsidian glass. In the middle—a throne of flame and bone.
It pulsed when Eira stepped near it.
Kael caught her arm. "Don't sit."
"I wasn't going to," she whispered. But her hand trembled.
Because part of her wanted to.
Naima set a ward around the room, muttering under her breath. Lysathe stared at the throne with something like fear.
And Kharion?
He simply waited.
Because the moment Eira laid her palm on the throne's armrest, visions flooded her mind.
A boy in chains.
A boy with her eyes.
A boy saying, "Sister, they lied to us both."