A flicker of tension sparked behind Ethan's eyes, but he didn't speak immediately. He studied her—her tone, her stance, her choice of words.
Not a declaration of war. Not yet. But a challenge, wrapped in doctrine.
"Then let me ask this," Ethan said. "What is the Crimson Accord? And why now?"
Ashara tilted her head slightly, strands of silver hair glinting under the moonlight. "The Accord is balance. We were formed during the War of Origin to preserve the sanctity of the deeper Labyrinths… to ensure that what was sealed below remained sealed. You've awakened a key, Ethan Drakethorne. And keys… invite doors."
Ethan's brow twitched. "I didn't awaken anything on purpose."
"No one ever does," Ashara replied. "Intent is irrelevant to the Labyrinth. Cause and effect are bound in deeper chains."
"Then answer this," he pressed. "The vision I saw—the black flame, the boy, the beast made of teeth—was that the future?"
Ashara's smile was faint, barely a curve. "No. It was the past."
