Ashen felt it before he saw it.
A pressure in the air.
A wrongness that didn't belong.
He stopped mid-step.
Elyra nearly walked into his back. "What—"
"Quiet."
Lira shifted against his shoulder. Her breath was warm. Too warm.
Ashen turned his head slightly. "Lira?"
No answer.
Her arms were tighter around his neck now. Her fingers dug into his cloak like she was holding on to the world itself.
Ashen's instincts screamed.
He lowered her gently to the ground.
The moment her boots touched the snow, the air moved.
Not wind.
Something deeper.
The snow around Lira darkened, not melting, not burning, just… receding. As if reality itself was giving her space.
Elyra took a step back. "Ashen," she said carefully, "that's not normal."
Obviously.
Lira's eyes fluttered open.
They glowed.
Not fully. Not blinding. But lit from within by a soft, ember-orange light.
"I'm sorry," Lira whispered.
Ashen knelt instantly. "For what?"
"For waking it."
The ground cracked.
A thin fracture split the frozen earth beneath her hands, glowing faintly from below. The air vibrated, low and deep, like the world was holding its breath.
Elyra swore under hers.
"This is the Spark," she said. "Uncontrolled."
Ashen's jaw tightened. "Can you stop it?"
Elyra hesitated.
That was answer enough.
Lira squeezed her eyes shut. "I didn't mean to. I was dreaming and then it felt like… like someone was knocking. Over and over."
Ashen placed his hands on her shoulders. "Listen to me. You're here. You're safe."
A lie.
One he needed her to believe.
The glow intensified.
Ashen felt it then. Something was tugging at him. Not physically. Spiritually. Like invisible threads pulling at his chest.
The Book.
Even miles away, it knew.
Elyra felt it too. She staggered, bracing herself on a rock. "Ashen… it's reacting to you."
Of course it was.
The ritual had been built around him. The Baron had wanted Ashen as the anchor. The unwilling guardian. The blade chained to a child's soul.
Ashen forced himself to breathe.
He had lived his whole life mastering control. Stillness. Silence. Precision.
He reached for that now.
"Lira," he said softly, "look at me."
She did.
The glow dimmed—just a fraction.
Good.
"You're not a weapon," he said. "You're not a key. You're not what they want you to be."
The pressure eased slightly.
Elyra stared. "You're stabilizing it."
Ashen didn't look away from Lira. "No. She is."
The Spark pulsed once.
Then—
A scream cut through the mountains.
High. Sharp. Brief.
Ashen was on his feet instantly, blades drawn.
Elyra's head snapped up. "That wasn't Ironhand."
Another scream followed. Then silence.
The House of Masks.
They had found someone else.
Ashen made the decision in a heartbeat. "We move. Now."
"But the Spark.. " Elyra began.
" ..will follow us whether we like it or not."
They didn't run toward the sound.
They circled.
Ashen crept along the ridge, senses razor-tight. He smelled blood before he saw it.
A body lay sprawled in the snow below. One of the House hunters. Mask cracked. Throat torn open.
Not a clean kill.
Ironhand's work.
But Ironhand wasn't there.
Instead—
A symbol burned into the snow.
A circle scored deep into the ground, lines branching outward like veins. Old runes. Ritual marks.
Elyra went pale. "They're trying to recreate it."
Ashen's stomach dropped. "Here?"
"They don't need the full ritual," she said. "Just enough to draw its attention."
The snow within the circle stirred.
Ashen felt the pull intensify, it was stronger now, more insistent. The Spark in Lira's chest responded instantly, flaring bright.
She cried out, clutching herself. "It hurts!"
Ashen grabbed her, pulling her close. "No. No. Look at me."
The air tore open.
Not a portal.
Not a door.
A presence.
Shadows bent inward, collapsing toward a single point above the circle. Ink-black tendrils writhed, forming something that almost resembled a spine.
The Book was not here.
But this was its hand.
Elyra drew her blades, hands shaking. "Ashen… if that thing finishes forming... "
"I know."
A slow clap echoed from the trees.
Mirelle stepped into view, mask pristine despite the blood around her. Two more House assassins flanked her, crossbows trained.
"Well done," she said pleasantly. "You brought the catalyst to us."
Ashen angled his body, shielding Lira.
"You won't take her," he said.
Mirelle tilted her head. "We don't need to."
She gestured to the forming horror. "The Book already has."
The tendrils surged forward.
Lira screamed.
Something snapped.
The Spark exploded outward, not violently, but decisively. A wave of warm force rippled through the clearing, slamming into Ashen, Elyra, the assassins. Everything.
The shadow construct recoiled, shrieking soundlessly.
Mirelle staggered back. "I..Impossible.. "
Lira went limp.
Ashen caught her just before she collapsed.
"No," he breathed. "Lira stay with me."
Her glow flickered weakly.
Elyra lunged, blades flashing, forcing the House back. "Ashen! We can't stay!"
Ashen looked at the child in his arms.
He felt the pull stronger than ever now-not toward the Book...
Toward him.
The ritual wanted a choice.
Him.
Or her.
Ashen stood.
He looked at Mirelle.
At the ritual circle.
At the broken snow.
Then he did something no assassin ever should.
He stepped into the circle.
Elyra shouted. "ASHEN!!!"
The runes ignited.
The world went white.
And somewhere deep in the dark, something ancient smiled.