London's skyline was cloaked in a melancholy grey when Olivia stepped outside. The fog rolled low across the pavements, softening the edges of reality. It was the kind of morning that felt ancient—like time itself had slowed to a breath.
The sigil had vanished.
When she woke, the burn mark on her wooden floor was gone. No scorch. No symbol. Nothing but smooth, polished oak.
But she knew what she had seen.
The mirror. The smile. Seraphina's face—her face. Their face. And a hunger behind those eyes that Olivia didn't yet understand.
She pressed a hand to her chest. Her heart beat like a drum, steady but heavy.
She needed clarity.
She needed Aiden.
Olivia headed into the city. She didn't text him. Didn't call. Somehow, she just knew where to find him. The bond—or curse, as Nara had called it—was real. And right now, it tugged her eastward.
Past Spitalfields.
Past the towering Shard.
To the south bank of the Thames.
She found him standing alone beneath the Millennium Bridge, back to the river, cigarette between his fingers. The moment he looked up, she stopped walking.
His eyes—storm-cloud grey—were darker than she remembered.
"You felt it," he said before she could speak.
"You knew," she accused. "About me. About Seraphina. About all of it."
"I didn't remember until yesterday," he said quietly. "When the painting came back to you. That's always the trigger."
Olivia crossed her arms. "So what now? You protect me? Or destroy me?"
He didn't flinch. "I don't want to do either. I just want to be free of it."
"I didn't ask for this."
"No one does."
A silence stretched between them. The sounds of London—sirens, riverboats, chatter—muffled beneath the fog.
"What happened to Seraphina?" she asked finally.
Aiden exhaled smoke. "She lost control. She tried to rewrite the threads of time—to trap me in every life. She didn't understand the cost. The magic burned her from the inside."
"And you?"
"I died with her. Again and again. In fire, in ice, in silence. Every time she returns, I do too. But I'm always aware. Even when you aren't."
Olivia's throat tightened. "So you've watched me my whole life?"
"Only when the signs begin. The dreams. The heat. The art." He hesitated. "I'm not here to hurt you, Olivia. I swear it."
She believed him.
But that didn't mean she trusted him.
"What happens if I don't awaken?" she asked.
He tossed the cigarette into the river. "You burn from the inside anyway. Your power doesn't stay buried. It erupts."
She swallowed. "Then teach me. Help me control it."
His expression shifted—surprise, maybe even fear.
"That's dangerous."
"I don't care. I'm not going to spend my life afraid of who I am."
Aiden looked at her for a long moment, then nodded once.
"There's a place. Outside the city. A sanctuary of sorts. Hidden from mortals, veiled by magic. It's where Seraphina trained before she turned away."
"I want to go."
"I need time to prepare it."
"Tomorrow," she said. "I won't wait longer."
He didn't argue.
**
That night, Olivia returned home and started packing. Clothes, her sketchbook, a few paintings. The black leather-bound book Nara had given her stayed clutched to her chest.
She didn't know what she was stepping into, but she knew she couldn't stay in London. Not now.
Not when her soul was on fire.
She was zipping her suitcase when her phone buzzed.
Unknown Number: "Do not trust him."
Her stomach flipped.
She typed back.
Olivia: Who is this?
No reply.
She checked again.
The number had vanished.
Deleted from her log.
Just like that.
Gone.
**
The next morning, she met Aiden at Liverpool Street Station. He wore all black, coat collar turned up, and moved like a man who didn't belong in any one time. He bought two tickets for a rural village Olivia had never heard of—Ebonhollow.
"No roads lead there," he said. "Only the rail."
She raised an eyebrow. "That's ominous."
"Everything about your life is ominous now."
They boarded the train.
Only three other passengers sat in the carriage—none of them speaking, all of them unnaturally still. Olivia felt watched, but every time she turned her head, no one met her gaze.
When they crossed the county line into Wiltshire, the world seemed to shift. The trees grew denser. The light dimmed. Even the colour of the sky deepened to a violet-grey.
"This place is protected," Aiden explained. "Enchanted, even. Time slows. Magic thickens. It's why Flamebearers trained here for centuries."
She pressed a hand to the window. The air outside shimmered faintly, as though reality itself was bending.
When the train stopped, they were the only ones to step off.
Ebonhollow was little more than a cluster of ancient cottages and moss-covered stones. A ruined abbey towered at the edge of the forest, ivy winding through its fractured bell.
"This way," Aiden said.
They followed a narrow footpath through the woods.
After half a mile, a clearing opened before them. At its centre stood a manor carved of black stone, tall windows shuttered and strange symbols etched into the arches.
"Welcome to Ashbourne House," Aiden said. "Your sanctuary. Your prison. Your inheritance."
The front door opened by itself.
As they entered, Olivia felt it again—that strange pull inside her chest. A heat blooming in her spine. Like something in the house recognised her.
She turned to Aiden.
"How do we begin?"
His eyes gleamed silver in the dim light.
"We wake the fire."