The world around Aria steadied only after several breaths, but her pulse still thundered like war drums beneath her skin. The mark inside her—alive, ancient, hungry—had shown her fragments of truth, each one sharp enough to carve scars across her thoughts. She blinked, grounding herself in the dim glade where Malakai still knelt in front of her, his wings curling slowly away now that the worst of the vision had passed.
His eyes searched her face, cautious but steady. "You came back faster than I expected," he murmured. "Most cannot emerge from the mark's memories without losing something… or someone."
Aria swallowed, throat tight. "It tried to take everything. Every memory, every part of myself that didn't belong to it." Her fingers trembled, so she clenched them into fists until the shaking stopped. "But I didn't let it."
Malakai's lips curved—not quite a smile, but something close.
"Good. That means you are ready for what comes next."
But Aria wasn't sure she was ready for anything. The images from the vision still flickered behind her eyes: a cloaked figure, shadows dripping from their form like oil, bending over an infant—her—and whispering words she couldn't fully hear. A pact forged without her voice. A path chosen without her consent.
And worse… a familiar presence lingering behind the figure, one she had felt more than seen, like a ghost brushing her skin.
She shook her head hard, refusing to let fear settle. "What comes next?" she managed.
"The first stage of control," Malakai said. "Understanding the fire inside you. Making it obey."
He extended his hand to her, palm up, a silent offering. Aria hesitated only a moment before slipping her hand into his. His shadows curled warmly around her skin, not cold as she expected. Not harsh. Almost… grounding.
"Close your eyes again," he instructed,
"But this time, do not let the mark lead. You lead it."
Aria inhaled slowly, lowering her lashes. The darkness within her responded instantly, like a beast lifting its head at the sound of her breath. Heat pooled in her chest, spreading like molten metal through her body. But unlike before, it didn't strike at her mind. It waited. Watching.
"Good," Malakai murmured. "Now call it."
Aria's pulse stuttered. "Call it?"
"Yes. The fire is yours. You do not wait for it to awaken. You summon it. Feel it as a part of you—not something foreign, not something borrowed. It's yours."
Aria inhaled again, deeper, letting her awareness sink inward. The mark pulsed under her skin like a second heartbeat. The memories, the betrayals, the chains… all of it flickered at the edges of her senses. But she reached past them.
Into the core.
There- deep and roaring-was her fire.
A thread of warmth. Then heat. Then blazing, furious flames that belonged to no celestial, no demon, no ancient force.
They belonged to her.
She reached toward it the way she might reach toward a wounded animal—slowly, deliberately, with no sudden movement. And the fire reacted, surging upward like a startled beast.
Aria gasped, her body arching slightly, but Malakai's hand tightened around hers, shadows wrapping her wrist.
"Do not pull away," he whispered.
"It rises because you allowed yourself to touch it. Control it. Shape it. Your fire responds to your will."
Aria clenched her teeth, sweat forming at her hairline. The heat grew unbearable for a moment—burning behind her ribs, searing through her veins, crashing against her lungs in waves of molten gold—but she held on, refusing to let fear coil around her spine.
Her fire was wild, ancient, untamed—but not unreachable.
Not anymore.
Slowly, she wrapped her will around the flames, like cupping her hands around a candle to shield it from the wind. She didn't push. She didn't force.
She simply held.
The fire softened, lowering from a roar to a steady crackle, warm and powerful but no longer suffocating.
Malakai exhaled, the tension in his posture easing. "You see? It listens."
Aria opened her eyes slowly. A faint crimson glow lingered on her skin, like embers under the surface.
"It listened," she whispered. "It actually listened."
"Yes." His gaze stayed on her, unreadable.
"But this is only the beginning. You will need far more than obedience. You will need mastery."
Aria nodded, the seriousness of his tone anchoring her. "I want to learn. I need to learn."
He stood, pulling her gently to her feet as the shadows of the glade shifted around them. "Then let us begin the second stage."
Aria's breath caught. "There's more?"
"There is always more," Malakai replied. "The mark has layers. Some are dormant. Some are buried. Some you are not meant to awaken unless your life depends on it."
Aria's heart thudded. "And today… which layer are we touching?"
"The layer of memory," Malakai said. "The one tied to the first betrayal."
Her throat tightened. "I saw something earlier. But it wasn't clear."
"It never is," Malakai said darkly. "Because the mark does not show you the entire truth at once. It shows what you are strong enough to face."
Aria looked up at him, fear and determination warring in her chest. "And you think I'm strong enough to face more?"
"I know you are." Malakai's wings unfurled behind him, the shadows shifting like living smoke. "Because you survived your first awakening, you resisted a celestial prince, and you returned from the mark's memories with your mind intact. That alone would have broken most."
Aria swallowed hard, her fire warming and steady in her veins. She wasn't sure she believed him, but she wanted to. Needed to.
"Then show me," she said. "Whatever comes next… I'll face it."
Malakai stepped closer, so close she could feel the coolness of his shadows brushing against her heat. His hand lifted to her cheek—not touching, but hovering close enough that her skin tingled.
"You will see a memory in this stage," he murmured. "But not from the mark. From your life."
Aria's breath stilled.
"What memory?" she whispered.
Malakai's expression darkened. "The one you've been unconsciously hiding from yourself. The moment you were first bound."
Her stomach twisted. "Bound… by who?"
Malakai hesitated—not out of uncertainty, but out of dread. His voice dropped to a whisper.
"By the person you trusted most."
Aria felt the world tilt. "What do you mean? Who—?"
He pressed a finger to her lips, shadows curling around the touch.
"Don't ask," he murmured. "Not yet. Your mind will reveal the truth on its own."
Aria's pulse hammered, but she nodded.
"How do I see it?" she asked.
"You don't have to call it," Malakai said. "You only have to stop running from it."
Before she could respond, he lifted one hand and placed it lightly against her forehead. A burst of shadow swept through her mind—not violent, not invasive, but like a door unlocking.
Aria gasped as the world around her dissolved.
Suddenly she stood—not in the forest—but in a small house, dim and warm, filled with the faint scent of herbs and smoke. She recognized it instantly.
Home.
Her childhood home.
She staggered forward, breath shattering. "No… not here."
A soft voice echoed down the hallway.
A voice she knew.
A voice she loved.
"Aria? Come here, sweetheart. I have something to show you."
Her heart stopped.
"No," she whispered. "It can't be. They wouldn't… They couldn't…"
But deep inside, beneath the layers of denial and buried fear, she already knew.
She turned slowly.
And there, standing in the doorway with a gentle smile and the shadow of a lie gleaming faintly in their eyes…
…was the person she had spent her whole life trusting.
The person who had raised her.
The person she loved.
The first betrayer.
Aria's scream didn't leave her lips—because the memory swallowed it whole.
And the truth shattered everything.