The wind whispered secrets through the branches as Emberlynn and Malphas descended the mountain. Behind them, the Hound-ravaged ridge was silent, as if Herra's visit had erased even time. But something had changed in Emberlynn. The mark on her shoulder no longer pulsed erratically—it hummed, steady like a distant drum.
Malphas noticed.
"You're quieter," he said.
"I saw too much to talk."
He didn't press. He knew better.
The journey down was treacherous. Thorns snagged their clothes, and slick stones betrayed their footing. But neither flinched. Emberlynn, especially, moved like she was chasing something unseen.
Finally, they reached the valley below.
Mist clung to the grass, and the air was damp with magic. Emberlynn slowed.
"You feel that?"
"Old magic," Malphas murmured. "Not from this realm."
A lone figure waited beneath the twisted willow tree.
Tall. Lean. Cloaked in silver threads that shimmered like spider silk. His face was obscured by a porcelain mask—smiling and cracked.
Emberlynn's heart tightened.
"Another one of your demon friends?"
Malphas didn't answer immediately. "That's Velrian."
"Should I know him?"
"He's the Weaver of Lies."
Charming.
---
Velrian bowed deeply. "The Paragon Key. What an honor."
Emberlynn narrowed her eyes. "Spare me the theatrics."
"Straight to business. I like that." He tilted his head. "But business is complicated when you don't know who's really holding the strings."
She took a step forward. "Start talking."
Velrian chuckled, and the sound echoed like the tick of a broken clock.
"The seal is not your only problem, Emberlynn. Every realm, every faction, every forgotten prince with a bruised ego—they all want a piece of you. You think this is a game of survival?"
She crossed her arms. "Isn't it?"
"No," he said. "It's a hunt."
Malphas stepped in. "Why are you here?"
"To offer a deal."
"We don't make deals with liars."
"But you need liars now, don't you?" Velrian's voice was soft. "The truth will only drag her down."
"I said—"
"Wait," Emberlynn cut in. "What's the deal?"
Velrian's mask tilted.
"A name," he said. "The name of the one who truly cursed the seal."
Silence fell like a stone.
Emberlynn glanced at Malphas. "Didn't you say the seal was placed by the High Seven?"
"That's the story we were told," he said. "But… it never added up."
Velrian smiled.
"Because the High Seven didn't create the seal. They only strengthened it."
"Then who—"
"The Demon King," Velrian whispered. "The real one. The one even Malphas fears."
Malphas went stiff.
"…That's impossible."
"Is it?" Velrian turned to him. "You think you're the only one who lost memories after the rebellion? You think your banishment was clean? You think you're the only 'king' in this tale?"
Something cold trickled down Emberlynn's spine.
"Wait," she whispered. "If Malphas isn't the true king…"
Velrian's voice dropped.
"He's the bait."
---
Malphas exploded forward, hand at Velrian's throat, slamming him into the tree.
"You lie."
Velrian didn't resist. "Always. But even lies carry slivers of truth."
Emberlynn stepped between them. "Enough! Tell us everything. Now."
Velrian's smile cracked wider.
"Long ago, a demon king sought immortality. He couldn't find it in war, so he turned to prophecy. The Paragon Key was created to bind that power—to lock away his soul until the stars bled red again."
"And now?" she asked.
"The stars are bleeding."
Emberlynn looked at Malphas. He was pale.
"Malphas… what if you're not the villain?"
"…Then who is?"
Velrian answered: "The one still dreaming behind the seal. Waiting. Hungry."
---
The willow behind Velrian caught fire suddenly, burning with silver flame. Emberlynn jerked back, but Velrian stood calm.
"Time's up," he said. "They know I told you."
"Who knows?"
"The Hollow Court. The real ones pulling the strings. They'll send their agents now. Shadows in skin. Smiling with your mother's voice. Run, Emberlynn. Or fight. Either way… you're in the middle of a story that started long before you were born."
The fire consumed him in a blink. Gone. No scream. No ash.
Just silence.
---
Malphas grabbed her wrist. "We move. Now."
"But—"
"No time."
They fled through the valley, the wind screaming behind them. The sky cracked with shadow. And somewhere deep in Emberlynn's chest, her fire surged—not wild, but ready.
Not for survival.
But for war.