The morning after the fire ceremony was unusually quiet. Not the peace of resolution but the silence that comes before a storm.
I awoke with the taste of smoke still in my throat, the whispers of Ashen's final words echoing behind my ears. She had sealed a pact. Declared unity. Invited the Forgotten into our flame.
But peace never comes so easily.
Lucas was already in the war chamber when I arrived, his hands braced on the edge of the map table, eyes focused on nothing and everything at once.
"They haven't responded," he said without looking up.
"They will," I replied, though I wasn't sure if I believed it. "Ashen lit the flame. They felt it."
He finally turned to face me. "That's the problem. We don't know what they felt."
Before I could answer, the flames in the center brazier flickered violet once, then twice.
A message.
