The horn echoed long after its sound had died.
Eren stood still, Akreth gripped in his hand, its runes glowing faintly as if listening. The wind that followed the horn was sharp, cold not of weather, but of intent. Elira moved beside him, drawing her dagger in silence.
"That wasn't the Circle," she said. "They don't announce themselves."
"Then who?" Eren asked.
She hesitated. "The Ashen Reclaimers."
Eren turned to her. "I thought they were a myth."
Elira shook her head. "They're real. A splinter cult born from the ashes of the Emberborn. They believe the first bearer was right but broken. They think you're the second chance."
"They follow me?"
"They hunt you," she said. "But not to kill."
Eren's stomach tightened. "To claim me."
She nodded. "They think if they can bind you to their flame, they can finish what the first began. Open the Threshold fully. Let the world burn clean."
Before he could answer, movement caught his eye shadows shifting along the hills at the edge of the village. Figures. Cloaked, ash-covered, and slow-moving, as if rising from the ground itself.
Eren stepped forward. "How many?"
"Hard to say," Elira murmured. "But they travel in groups of six. Always six. One for each chain that bound the first."
The first of the figures came into view.
Tall. Hooded. Cloak made of stitched ash-gray linen, its edges scorched. A mask of bleached bark covered the face etched with a spiral of burnt symbols. In one hand, a censer swung, releasing trails of white smoke that smelled of incense and blood.
Another stepped beside him.
Then another.
And another.
Six in total.
They stopped at the edge of the village ruins, forming a half-circle around Eren and Elira.
The one with the censer stepped forward and spoke in a voice that echoed with strange calm.
"Bearer. You have wandered long in flame without guidance. Let us return you to the fire that remembers."
Eren raised the sword slightly. "I don't need your fire."
The figure didn't flinch. "You carry it, but you do not know it. Not yet. We can show you the true blaze the one that purifies not only flesh, but time."
Elira scoffed. "The Reclaimers don't seek purity. They seek control."
Another of the six stepped forward. A woman, judging by her frame. Her voice was quiet, like dying wind.
"We are not here to fight. We are here to bind. Let the sword speak. If it chooses us then all ends are one."
Eren felt Akreth pulse in his hand.
Not in resistance. Not in anger.
In curiosity.
He took a breath. "And if I refuse?"
The censer-bearer raised his hand.
"Then we leave," he said. "And burn everything behind you."
Eren's jaw clenched.
"They're bluffing," Elira hissed.
"No," he said. "They're not."
He stepped forward, away from her, and held Akreth out blade flat, palm resting atop the runes.
"Then let it decide," he said. "No blood. No ritual. Just truth."
The six stepped back as one.
The censer-bearer knelt. The others followed.
Then silence.
Eren closed his eyes.
The sword flared.
His breath caught.
And then
"What do you fear most?"
The voice was inside him again. Not a scream. Not a threat. Just… presence.
Eren whispered, "Losing myself."
"What do you burn for?"
He opened his eyes.
"For her."
"Then remember her."
The blade pulsed.
Eren stepped back.
The Reclaimers rose.
The censer-bearer bowed his head.
"You have not yet become him," he said. "But the fire has not denied us."
Another of the six spoke. "We will return. At the threshold."
Then, as one, they turned and walked into the ash.
Eren stood breathing hard, heart pounding.
Elira grabbed his arm. "That was insane."
"I had to know," he said. "If the sword was still listening."
She looked at him. "And?"
He stared down at the blade.
"It remembers. But it hasn't chosen yet."
She said nothing. Just gripped her cloak tighter.
That night, they did not light a fire.
Ash carried memory.
And memory, now, could attract far worse than flame.