The first drop of blood fell just before dawn.
It wasn't spilled in battle.
It came from the mirror.
Selene was the first to see it. She'd risen early, unable to sleep, drawn by the low hum that pulsed from the cracked Elunari Gate. She found herself staring at its surface again, hands trembling, heart uneasy.
Then—
A soft, wet sound.
A single drop slid from the golden fracture down the mirror's surface and landed on the stone below.
Red. Vivid. Alive.
---
Naeria came running when she heard the alarm. Rowan followed close behind, already armored, his sword drawn. Kael emerged from the tent shirtless, Theron in his arms, Elira sleepily rubbing her eyes.
Selene pointed in silence.
Naeria approached, knelt by the bloodstain, and touched it with a gloved finger. She gasped.
"It's not ordinary blood," she whispered. "It's Divine."
Rowan went still.
Kael stepped forward. "What does that mean?"
Naeria swallowed. "It means... a god is waking."
---
The second drop came at dusk.
This time, it sizzled on the stone.
Theron stared at it for a long time. Then, without a word, he reached out and touched the mirror's surface again. His fingers did not pass through—but the crack widened ever so slightly. Another drop appeared.
It rolled down the center, leaving a faint trail of gold and red.
"I hear her," he said.
Selene's stomach turned. "Who?"
"The one inside."
---
That night, Selene dreamed again.
She stood in a forest of flame. The trees burned, but they did not fall. The ground smoked, but her feet were untouched. The sky was dark. In the center of the woods stood a woman—the Fire Queen, tall and ageless, her body clothed in smoke and ash, her eyes twin furnaces.
"You carry the tether," the woman said.
Selene bowed her head, feeling heat ripple across her skin.
"Do you know what the mirror demands?"
"I don't."
"Then you have already given too much."
The queen stepped forward and placed a hand on Selene's chest.
"You will be the price."
Selene gasped—
And woke to find her shirt damp with blood. A perfect crescent mark glowed on her chest—right over her heart.
---
The group met in council the next morning, the twins safely under a shielding spell nearby.
Selene recounted her dream. Showed them the mark.
Naeria paled. "That's a claiming sigil. A mark of divine barter. The mirror wants you as its vessel."
Kael clenched his fists. "It won't have her."
"But the Gate is already opening," Rowan said grimly. "We don't have time to delay."
Selene stood. "Then we find another way in. Another path. If the mirror wants a price—it'll get more than it asked for."
---
That night, she and Kael approached the mirror together.
They brought no weapons. No sigils. No incantations.
Just themselves—and the truth of their bond.
Kael placed his palm on the surface.
Selene did the same.
The crack glowed brighter—a soft, burning line of memory and magic. The mirror shivered. Then… it breathed.
From within, a voice echoed—not one, but two:
> "The moon has chosen. The fire must awaken. The gate will bleed, or the world will burn."
Kael stepped back.
Selene whispered, "Then let it bleed."
---
Elira woke screaming.
The sigils on her wrists glowed bright white. Her eyes shimmered like a thousand stars, and her voice rang in tones not her own.
"They will try to take him!" she cried. "The Ashborn come tonight! They want Theron for the Flame!"
Rowan moved instantly. "Shields up. Defenses ready. We hold until the stars shift."
Naeria placed hands on Elira's temples. "Breathe, little one. Speak clearly."
But Elira wasn't speaking anymore.
She was channeling.
"The Gate is not a door," she said in a voice both child and not. "It's a mouth. And it is hungry."
---
That evening, as the sky burned with unnatural hues, the Ashborn came.
Silent. Dozens. Then hundreds.
Clad in flame-etched leather, skin marked by fire and shadow, they marched into the basin below the ruins and waited.
No battle cry.
No siege.
Just—waiting.
Kael stood at the edge of the hill, his sword strapped to his back, the obsidian spear of the Moonforge glowing faintly in his hand.
"They're not attacking," Rowan said beside him.
"No," Kael replied, "they're watching. For a sign. For their king."
---
In the center of camp, Theron sat alone by the mirror.
He hadn't spoken in hours.
But the mirror pulsed beneath him—heartbeat for heartbeat.
Elira approached, softly, hesitantly.
"Do you want to go with them?" she whispered.
Theron didn't look up. "I don't know."
"They think you belong to them."
"They're wrong."
"Are they?"
That made him look at her.
Something ancient stirred behind his gold eyes.
"Elira," he said, "what if I'm not supposed to choose?"
She touched his hand.
"You already have."
---
That night, lightning struck the mirror.
The crack split wider.
And from it, blood poured freely.
The Gate was opening.
---
Selene stood before it, hands glowing silver, her body trembling.
She could feel it pulling at her soul now—tugging, demanding, devouring.
She looked to Kael.
"I'm scared."
He cupped her face. "Then I'll walk through with you."
"You'll burn."
"Then we burn together."
---
But before they could step in—
Theron cried out.
A scream of soul and fire and fury.
His body lifted from the ground. Flames spiraled around him in golden helixes. His mouth opened and a language not meant for mortal ears roared out of him.
Elira ran toward him.
"THERON!"
The mirror blazed.
The ground cracked.
And the sky—
Split.
---
A figure stepped from the mirror.
Not the Fire Queen.
Not a god.
A child.
A girl of ash and flame.
With Theron's eyes.
---
Selene gasped.
Kael stepped forward, sword drawn. "Who are you?"
The girl smiled.
"I'm what you would become," she said. "I'm the choice not made."
And behind her—
The Gate yawned open.
A swirling void of red and gold.
---
To enter would be to change everything.
To refuse?
Might mean losing everything.
Selene took her children's hands.
And whispered, "We walk together."
---