By morning, the smoke ring where Rhyssa had knelt was gone.
Not scattered—taken.
The spiral stones, the flare coil, even the bone spike—gone without a trace. As if she'd never been there.
But the tension it left behind? That remained.
Ka'lenna watched the treeline like it would reach for her.
"Your throne stirs the bones of this land," she muttered. "And now others hear it, too."
"They would've heard it eventually."
"They came faster than I expected."
"They'll come again," I said.
Back at camp, the mood had shifted.
Warriors didn't meet my gaze. Not in fear—but in calculation.
To them, I wasn't just the stranger Ka'lenna had defended anymore. I was the fire-touched, the one who had opened a vault no other in their tribe had dared touch in generations.
And now, others were watching.
Some were curious.
Some were afraid.
But most?
They were wondering if the gods of ash had truly chosen me.
Or if I was just the first match to strike the pyre.
I spent most of the next day beneath the vault, in the satellite chamber connected to the throne platform.
The uplink core buzzed with residual energy, and I fed it the bone mask's visual data and spiral stone patterns for analysis.
It didn't disappoint.
TRIBAL ORIGIN MATCH: EMBER CLADE // LINEAGE NODE: PRIMORDIAL 1B
Status: ActiveDesignation: Highborn Flameblood / Warden Tier AccessPsychological Tag: Aggression-Tempered // Loyalty – Variable
The Ember Clade wasn't just powerful.
They were originals—descendants of the very first batch of BABEL's terra-tribes, created not to cooperate, but to compete. Conflict wasn't a side effect of the system.
It was the core protocol.
And Rhyssa?
She had Warden-tier access.
That made her more than a scout.
She was a claimant. Like me.
Possibly more.
Ka'lenna found me in the chamber that evening.
"You've been quiet."
"Thinking."
"About her?"
I looked at her.
"About what comes next."
She stepped closer. Her fingers brushed the console's edge beside mine. We stood almost shoulder to shoulder.
"Will you go after them?" she asked.
"I'll have to."
"You want to."
I didn't answer.
She tilted her head.
"Is it her?"
"It's what she represents," I said. "Power I don't understand. A legacy I didn't choose. And a war I never started, but may have to end."
Ka'lenna's eyes narrowed.
"You sound like you admire her."
"I admire what she controls," I said. "But I don't trust her. Yet."
She was silent for a beat.
"You trust me?"
I turned fully to her.
"With my life."
Ka'lenna didn't smile—but her silence held weight. She reached into her satchel and pulled out a folded parchment: a rough map of the region, sketched in ochre and charcoal.
"There's another site," she said. "West of the canyon. Half-buried. My mother said it used to glow during the red seasons."
A vault.
Another node.
Another chance.
I studied the map.
The Ember Clade had sent a message.
But I would answer with movement.
Not fear. Not hesitation.
Preparation.
That night, I climbed to the ridge and stared at the stars.
A single satellite blinked far in the upper atmosphere—a faint glint of the old Earth relay still limping in orbit.
My enemies were watching.
My rivals were rising.
But this planet would remember me.
Not as the one who was left behind.
But as the one who rose in the fire and never knelt again.