The Shattered Mire was a land cursed by its own blood.
Once a lush wetland, it had been scorched by wild emberfire during the final days of the Ember Rebellion. Now, it stretched like a broken mirror of glassy water, scorched roots, and mist that whispered.
As Mara and her companions stepped onto the cracked marshland, the sky darkened unnaturally. The light was thick and violet, like stormclouds swollen with old magic. Serai walked ahead, runes flickering on her gauntlet. Talon moved behind Mara, swords loose at his sides. Tessara led, silent and alert.
They were being watched.
Mara could feel it—like eyes pressed against her spine. The Heart pulsed in her chest with slow dread.
"They're here," Tessara said, drawing her molten-edged blade. "The Vessel Order doesn't guard shards with soldiers. They use monsters."
A distant shriek echoed through the mire.
Something huge moved beneath the water—then stilled.
They reached a small island of scorched roots, where a jagged obelisk jutted from the earth. In its center hovered a crimson shard, burning like a star trapped in glass.
Before they could take a step closer, the water erupted.
A massive figure emerged—a woman clad in black bone armor, her face hidden by a helm shaped like a screaming flame. In her hand was a staff made of embersteel and sinew. Her voice was both many and none.
"You are not worthy."
Tessara stepped forward. "Vessel of Drownfire."
The woman's laughter was like cracking ice.
"Kael's spawn. The traitor. The ash-blind. All of you come to die."
Mara raised her hand. Fire danced around her knuckles. "I came to reclaim what my father gave up."
"You came to feed the flame," the Vessel hissed. "The shard hungers."
Then she attacked.
The ground exploded in a wave of boiling water and black mist. Talon dove aside, blades flashing. Serai raised a warding sigil just in time to deflect a blast of corrupted flame. Tessara met the Vessel head-on, her molten sword clashing against the emberstaff in a burst of sparks and fury.
Mara stood still, the chaos swirling around her.
The shard called to her—pulsed in rhythm with the Heart in her chest.
Don't fight it, the flame whispered. Use me.
"No," Mara whispered. "Not use. Understand."
She stepped forward, through fire and mist.
The Vessel turned too late.
Mara raised her hand—and instead of flame, light poured from her palm. Not fire to destroy, but fire to purify.
The Vessel screamed as the light struck her, tearing away the darkness clinging to her soul.
Her armor cracked. Her helm fell.
Beneath it was not a monster—but a girl.
Young. Barely older than Mara. Eyes wide with fear.
"I didn't want this…" she sobbed. "They fed me to the shard…"
And then she collapsed, the emberstaff disintegrating in her hands. The crimson shard floated free—gentle now, like a heartbeat slowing after a storm.
Tessara retrieved it reverently and passed it to Mara.
Mara held it in both hands. The Heart inside her welcomed it—not with hunger, but with memory.
Two shards united.
Serai placed a hand on Mara's shoulder. "That's two. Five remain."
Talon glanced at the fading mist. "And the Vessel Order won't make the same mistake twice."
Mara looked toward the distant horizon, where storm clouds gathered above the Obsidian Spine mountains.
"They won't have to," she said. "Because next time, we're not waiting for them."
The flame within her burned brighter.
And the sky, far above the mire, began to weep ash once more.
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