"The key?" Eira echoed, her voice trembling.
The Hollow Heart pulsed above her like a living thing, casting a soft crimson light that bathed the chamber in shifting shadows. Beneath it, Valtherion stood like a phantom of a forgotten age, his expression unreadable, yet filled with gravity.
"Yes," he said. "You are the key that can unlock the heart—or seal it forever."
Lucien stepped closer, hand hovering near his sword again. "What happens if it's opened?"
Valtherion's gaze flicked to him. "The truth is more complicated than that."
Eira's throat tightened. "Explain it. Please."
Valtherion turned, ascending the dais beneath the crystal. With each step, the energy in the chamber shifted—warmer, heavier, more aware.
"The Hollow Heart is not a source of power, as many believe," he began. "It is a prison."
Eira blinked. "A prison for what?"
"For what remains of the Voidborn," he said. "An ancient god whose hunger consumed kingdoms. The last of its essence is locked beneath the city. It was Vaelaria's final act—to bind it here with her blood, her life, and my soul."
Eira took a step back. Her head spun.
"So all of this," she whispered, "this entire city… it's built on a cage?"
Valtherion nodded slowly. "And only the bloodline that sealed it can unbind it. That is why the city recognized you. Why it brought you here. You are the last living spark of that bloodline."
Lucien cursed under his breath. "She didn't choose this."
"No one chooses destiny," Valtherion said.
"But I have a choice," Eira said softly. "Don't I?"
Valtherion's eyes met hers, and something passed between them—recognition, longing, sorrow.
"You do," he said. "But every choice comes with a cost."
He turned and extended a hand toward the crystal. Shadows wrapped around his fingers, the air thickening.
"If you open the Heart, the Voidborn's essence will begin to seep into this world again. But so will the full truth of your memories—of who you were, who you are meant to become. You will wield unimaginable power."
Eira swallowed hard. "And if I don't?"
"Then the prison holds… but it decays," Valtherion said. "The seal weakens with each passing century. Eventually, it will fail. Without you, the city will fall into ruin, and the world will suffer."
Lucien's voice was a low growl. "You're trying to force her into this."
"No," Valtherion said. "I'm giving her a choice."
Eira took a breath and stepped forward. "Why me? Why not you?"
"I am already bound to the seal," he said. "I am its guardian and its prisoner. Only someone born outside its curse, yet tied to its blood, can reshape it. I cannot rewrite fate… but you can."
Eira stared at the heart above them.
It pulsed once more—and in that moment, something pulled at her. Her thoughts scattered, and a vision crashed into her mind:
She stood atop a cliff overlooking a battlefield soaked in blood. Beside her stood Valtherion, clad in white armor that gleamed like bone. Her own hands were painted crimson, and her heart ached with loss.
"They won't stop," she said, her voice hoarse. "Not until everything burns."
Valtherion turned to her. "Then we burn brighter."
And she remembered… just for a moment… the fire of being Vaelaria.
The weight of the past settled into her chest.
She staggered back, gasping.
Lucien caught her, steadying her. "Eira!"
"I saw it," she whispered. "Who I was."
He looked into her eyes, his own filled with pain. "Do you want to be her again?"
"No," she said. "But I want to understand her. I need to."
Valtherion approached, and Lucien tensed again.
"I can guide you," the vampire king said. "But you must be willing to bear what comes with the truth."
Eira lifted her chin. "What happens if I merge my soul with the Heart?"
"The city will awaken fully," Valtherion said. "The seal will be reforged through you. But so will the Voidborn's awareness. It will know you. It will seek you. You will become both its jailer… and its greatest threat."
Lucien's grip on her hand tightened.
"Don't do it," he said. "There has to be another way."
Eira looked at him, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. "I don't want to be a key. I didn't ask for this. But I can't walk away."
Lucien looked pained. "If you do this, you might lose yourself."
"Or I might save all of us," she said.
She stepped forward again, toward the heart.
Valtherion moved aside, watching her with reverence.
The crystal hovered just above her head now, its light wrapping around her like a shroud.
And it whispered.
She couldn't understand the words—but she felt their intent. Calling to her. Offering power, truth… sacrifice.
She reached up and placed her hand against the heart.
Pain surged through her like lightning. Her body arched, her breath caught—and in that moment, she saw everything.
She saw the ancient war.
The shattering of the god beneath the earth.
The bargain Vaelaria made with the Weavers of Time.
She saw Valtherion crying alone in the ruins of a kingdom.
And she saw herself, not as Vaelaria, but as Eira—the bridge between the old world and the new.
When she pulled her hand away, she fell to her knees.
Lucien rushed to her side. "Eira!"
She looked up at him, her voice barely a whisper. "I remember."
He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly.
Valtherion remained still, watching from the shadows.
"What did you choose?" Lucien asked.
Eira closed her eyes. "I didn't choose to open it… not yet. But I accepted what I am."
Lucien looked at her, relief mingled with dread. "Then we still have time."
Valtherion stepped forward, his voice quiet.
"The first seal has shifted. The Voidborn will stir."
Eira stood, the weight of her new knowledge pressing heavily against her spine.
"Then let it come," she said.
"I'm not running anymore."