The journey took half the day, weaving through worn mountain paths and veils of mist clinging low to the earth like restless spirits. The only sound was the crunch of boots against soil and the occasional gust of wind stirring the tall grass. No one spoke much.
Kael kept glancing at her. Selene hadn't said a word since they left the compound. Her gaze was fixed ahead, unflinching. He didn't know whether to offer comfort or space.
Rook walked ahead with the kind of predatory stillness Kael had come to associate with him - like a wolf playing at being human. And Oren, ever unreadable, hummed an old melody as he led them, cane tapping rhythmically on the ground.
Eventually, the woods gave way to a familiar clearing.
Kael halted, breath catching.
"The Tree," he murmured.
There it stood - massive, ageless, wrapped in thick coils of vine and moss, its bark gnarled like the wrinkles of a wise old face. Its trunk was impossibly wide, and the roots coiled outward like sleeping serpents. It loomed in silent majesty beneath the afternoon sky, unmoved by time or weather.
He remembered carving his sister's name into it a year ago.
Lorel.
It felt like the name still glowed faintly, etched in light that pulsed like a heartbeat.
Selene stepped forward slowly, her breath fogging in the sudden chill.
"This is it," she said. "The Tree."
Oren nodded and placed a hand on the bark, whispering words too quiet for Kael to catch. The moment he did, the ground trembled. A low groan resonated through the roots, as if the earth were taking a long, deep breath.
Then - movement.
The bark split along ancient seams, vines slithering aside like obedient limbs. A spiral staircase revealed itself within the hollow trunk, descending into blackness lit faintly by green bioluminescent moss.
Kael stared.
Oren gestured them down.
Kael followed, his fingers trailing along the smooth wooden walls as they descended. The air grew heavier, dense with memory. Each step felt like sinking through time, deeper into something sacred and unknowable.
The chamber at the bottom was breathtaking.
Carved directly from root and stone, it resembled a cathedral in miniature. Twisting vines formed archways. Bioluminescent fungi clung to the ceiling in glowing clusters, bathing the space in ghostly light. At the center stood a stone circle, ringed with carvings of seven symbols - one for each Stigmata.
One of them glowed faintly black.
Kael's own.
"The Devourer," Oren murmured, noting his gaze. "It's responding to your Stigmata."
Kael shivered. The pain in his arm flared slightly.
Selene stepped into the circle.
"What do I do?" she asked, voice tight.
"Stand in the center. Focus. Remember," Rook said.
"Remember what?"
Oren's tone turned soft. "The truth. Not the story you tell yourself. The thing you buried to survive."
She didn't respond. But she walked forward, slowly, and sat cross-legged in the center of the circle. She exhaled shakily and placed her palms to the stone.
The carvings pulsed beneath her touch.
Then - silence.
A beat.
Two.
Then the wind shifted.
The air thickened. Something ancient stirred in the roots above. The walls seemed to breathe.
Kael stepped back instinctively.
Selene twitched.
Her eyes widened.
And then - light exploded from the circle.
Not just within. Outward.
Memories. Visions. Fractured and luminous, like shards of mirrored glass. They flooded the chamber, hanging in the air for all to see.
A flash -
A woman ran through firelit woods, her cloak in tatters, smoke curling from the trees like fingers reaching for her. Ash coated her skin. The child in her arms - barely more than a bundle - wailed against her chest, but she held on with desperate strength.
Her boots splashed through muddy roots, stumbling once, catching herself on a twisted trunk. Behind her: shouts, steel, the echo of hoofbeats.
She didn't look back.
Another flash -
Rook, younger. His cloak shredded, his arm bleeding from shoulder to wrist. He stood alone in a clearing ringed by torchlight. Twenty men circled him, blades drawn, their movements cautious - like they'd seen what he could do.
His sword was already red.
He didn't speak. Didn't flinch.
He fought.
Steel clashed. One went down. Then another.
He roared as a blade grazed his ribs, spun, and sent two more to the earth.
Still - he stood.
Another flash -
The woman - her mother - pressed her back against a tree trunk, chest heaving. A man rushed her, face twisted in fury. She didn't hesitate. Twisted, sidestepped, brought the dagger up beneath his chin and ripped it free with a spray of red.
Another attacker lunged, this time for the child.
Her scream tore through the woods - not in fear, but in fury.
She pivoted, deflected his strike with her forearm, and slammed her dagger into his abdomen. He gasped, clutched at her, then crumpled.
But too late - pain bloomed across her ribs.
She gasped. A third attacker had stabbed her from the side. The knife twisted, then withdrew.
Her hand shot back, found his throat, and finished him.
She staggered. Blood soaked her side. Her knees buckled - but she didn't fall.
Another flash -
Rook, crashing through the trees, eyes wild. He skidded to her side. "You're hit - come on, we can still - "
She grabbed his wrist, forcing the child into his arms.
Her voice was raw, final. "No. I'm done. You're not."
He shook his head. "Don't you - "
"Listen to me!" Her bloodied fingers cupped his face. "She needs to live. That's all that matters."
She kissed her daughter's head - one last time - then turned.
Another flash -
She stood alone again, back turned to them. Blade in hand. Blood dripping down her leg.
The pursuers were close now. She could hear them.
She stepped into the shadows.
And charged.
Another flash -
Rook running. Breathing hard. The child clutched to his chest. Her cries muffled by his cloak.
His teeth clenched. His eyes wet with something more than blood.
He didn't look back.
Kael gasped, staggering back like the memory had hit him in the gut.
"That's…" he breathed.
Oren, watching quietly, nodded. "Her truth."
Kael's fists clenched.
"And if she fails?"
"The Stigmata will reject her. Maybe even kill her."
Kael stared. Helpless.
Then silence again.
Selene's back arched.
Then - stillness.
A long, unbearable stillness.
Kael's breath caught.
Then - light burst from her chest, cracking like lightning across her skin.
The circle erupted with violet fire. One of the Stigmata runes blazed.
Selene collapsed.
She lay there for a moment, trembling.
Then slowly, her eyes opened.
"I saw her," she whispered. "My mother. She didn't leave me. She died saving me."
Oren bowed his head. "Then the Tree showed you the truth."
As Selene sat up, something shimmered on the back of her neck.
A mark formed, glowing faint violet - the shape jagged and sharp, like a splintered eye fractured by thought. Four angular spikes branched upward and downward from the center, a pattern not made for the physical world but for the mind's eye.
Kael stared.
"That's your Stigmata…"
"Mindshard," Rook confirmed quietly.
"It sees the lies we bury. It tears them open."
Kael stepped forward, cautiously. "You did it."
Selene didn't respond right away. She was still staring ahead, shoulders trembling ever so slightly. Her eyes were hollow - distant - but not broken. Something ancient lingered in them. The shadow of a flame that had burned and survived.
"No," she whispered. "I remembered."
Oren exhaled, deeply. He stepped toward her, slower than usual, almost reverent.
"You remembered more than I expected," Oren said softly, eyes narrowing - not in judgment, but in something closer to pride. Or grief. "We all saw it, your memory, Your pain. Her sacrifice."
Selene's hands were clenched. She didn't meet his gaze. "She knew she wouldn't make it."
"And still gave you a chance," Rook said quietly, from the edge of the chamber. His voice was low, hoarse. "I should've made her run. I should've fought with her - "
"She knew what she was doing," Selene cut him off. Not cruelly. Just... final. Her voice cracked, but she didn't cry. "She chose."
Silence lingered. Even the tree above seemed to still.
Kael looked between them. "She was... incredible."
"She was," Oren murmured, his voice old with memory. He looked at Selene, eyes softer than Kael had ever seen. "And you carry that fire now."
Oren made slow steps to the wall and kneel before the vines. He moved with the weight of ceremony, not routine. When his hand reached into the hidden recess, it was with deliberate care - as if disturbing sacred ground.
He withdrew a sealed chest and placed it gently on the roots.
"This isn't a prize," Oren said, glancing between Kael and Selene. "It's a trust."
The lock opened with a soft click. Inside: two daggers, and a sword.
Selene stepped forward slowly, still visibly shaken. Her hand hovered over the daggers, then touched the hilt with something like reverence. "These were hers."
Rook nodded once, his face carved from stone - yet behind his back, his fists were clenched white with buried emotion.
Kael looked to the sword. The hilt shimmered faintly. He reached for it, fingers wrapping around the black leather grip.
As Kael gripped the hilt, his Stigmata surged - heat blooming beneath his skin, not in protest, but in recognition.
He sucked in a breath.
"Not just any blade," Oren said. "That sword belonged to the first bearer of the Stigmata of Hunger. The one who began your bloodline's curse... and legacy."
Kael met Selene's gaze. Her grief was still there - but so was clarity. Purpose.
And in that silence, something shifted between them. Understanding. Kinship born not just from pain, but survival.