The stones hummed.
Not the slow warning they'd grown used to—but a layered tone that spiraled downward, like something ancient stirring from a long slumber. The air in the basin tightened, as if the very rock held its breath. The fire had guttered to embers, and Nima clung to Evelyn's arm, wide-eyed, humming the same tune from earlier—but softer now, slower.
"Pack everything," Vareth said. No urgency in his voice, but no hesitation either. "Now."
Torren stood by the ridge's edge, spear in hand. "It's coming from below, isn't it?"
Evelyn didn't answer. She couldn't.
Because the shard in her chest—her core—was pulsing in rhythm with the sound. Her blood thudded against her ribs, mirroring the low vibration now vibrating in her feet. It wasn't just an alarm. It was a call. Something beneath the listening earth was reaching upward, and the shard within her knew it.
"We can't go back the way we came," Torren added, voice low. "Ridge is too narrow. If whatever's down there comes up…"
"Then we move through," Vareth said grimly, pointing to the northern crag. "There's a chasm that drops into the lower narrows. Dry, last I passed. If it's not collapsed, it should lead us out of range."
Evelyn helped Nima wrap her cloak tighter. The girl didn't cry. She never cried. Just stared, her dirty cheeks streaked with soot and dried blood, the broken doll she carried swinging limply at her side.
When they moved, the stones' hum followed—each step echoed by a deeper reverberation underfoot.
It wasn't until they reached the mouth of the crag that the first sign appeared.
A mark—chiseled into the stone wall, but not with tools.
It was branded into the rock. A glyph Evelyn had seen once before, in her mother's sealed journal.
Torren touched it. "It's warm."
"Don't," Vareth snapped, but it was too late.
The humming paused.
Then a shiver ran through the ground, a vibration that didn't shake the rocks but made Evelyn's vision blur, like the world beneath the world had shifted its weight.
They hurried.
Down the steep path, feet slipping on gravel, wind clawing at cloaks.
Evelyn felt it then—something beneath her skin, beneath the shard, reaching not toward her, but with her. Like a forgotten limb flexing for the first time in years.
She stumbled. Torren caught her.
"You're burning up."
"I'm not—" But she was. Her skin glowed faintly beneath her collar, light pulsing with each footstep. "The core. It's… it's reacting."
"Because it recognizes this place," Vareth said, pausing to let them catch up. "This path was once a conduit. Long ago. A place where heartfire was tested."
Tested?
Evelyn looked back. The stones at the top of the basin still flickered dimly. And just beyond them…
Movement.
She didn't see a body. Only the impression of something—wide, slow, like a drifting shadow sliding beneath translucent skin. Eyes that gleamed like polished stone. A mouth that didn't smile, but listened.
Then it was gone.
They pushed on.
The chasm narrowed, stone walls pressing inward like clenched fists. Torches cast shaking shadows. Nima finally spoke again—just a whisper: "Not a song. It's a story."
Evelyn turned. "What?"
"The humming. It's not a warning. It's telling something."
Vareth halted. Looked sharply at the girl. "What is it telling?"
But Nima only shook her head.
And then the path dropped away.
A hollow in the stone. A stairwell, or perhaps a collapsed tunnel, descending in a spiral too perfect to be natural. Smooth grooves lined the walls—etched carvings half-worn by time but unmistakably shaped by intent.
"I thought this place was abandoned," Torren said.
"It was," Vareth replied. "That doesn't mean it stayed that way."
They descended.
Each step deepened the humming. The air thickened, not with heat, but with presence. Evelyn felt her thoughts stretch, her memories twist. She wasn't sure if she was still herself or if the shard was thinking for her.
Then they found it.
A chamber carved from black obsidian, flecked with veins of amber crystal. The light from Evelyn's core illuminated the walls, revealing dozens—no, hundreds—of sigils.
And at the center: a circular dais of carved stone. Atop it, a pedestal.
Empty.
"Something was here," Torren muttered.
"No," Evelyn whispered. "Something is still here."
She stepped forward despite Vareth's warning.
As her boot crossed the edge of the dais, the humming ceased.
The silence was immediate, total.
Then—a whisper.
Not from behind her.
Not from any throat.
It came from the floor.
Evelyn.
She froze.
Torren raised his weapon. Vareth unslung a blade etched with old light. But neither moved forward.
Evelyn knelt.
The pedestal was faintly warm, dust-free. Symbols ran along its edges, spiraling inward like a map.
Then she heard it again—more distinct.
"Flame-borne. Child of ash. Sing."
She couldn't help it. She opened her mouth. No words came.
But the shard sang for her.
A note, high and sharp, cracked the silence.
And the wall opposite them opened.