Raine's boots scraped the stone as she crossed the threshold. Everything—her pulse, the distant drip of water, the ember's faint hiss—seemed too loud in the hush of that round chamber. Blue fire licked the air above the basin, bright enough to paint wavering shadows on the walls.
Xavier hovered a step behind her. "Easy," he murmured, like they were approaching a skittish animal instead of raw, ancient power.
Raine swallowed. Just breathe. She kept her eyes on the ember—until the shadows on the far side of the hall twitched, then moved.
At first, she thought it was a trick of the strange light. Then she heard it: a low, wet rasp, as if someone were dragging a chain through gravel.
Ezekiel swore under his breath. "I thought the guardians crumbled."
"Those were stone," Nyra said, leveling her spear. "This one's…not."
Something unfolded from the darkness—long limbs, boneless-looking, a body packed tight with sinew and covered in ragged fur that shimmered like oil. Where a wolf's head should have been there was only a mask of black bone, split down the middle by a single glowing crack.
It wasn't huge; it felt huge. The air around it shivered. Every torch on the wall dimmed in one breath.
Ashfang, the once-Silenced wolf, slunk forward, ears flat. A snarl bubbled from his chest—but even he didn't charge.
"Don't move," Raine whispered. Too late. The creature lifted its skull-mask and looked at her. She felt that stare in the roots of her teeth.
The crack across its face brightened, and a sour heat rolled off it. Xavier stepped beside her, claws half-out, ready to shift.
"Raine," he said, quiet and urgent, "what is that?"
She had no answer, but something deep inside her—some leftover instinct from her mother—knew: this was a piece of the Devourer, splintered off and left to watch the ember. A watchdog made from nightmare.
The creature opened its jaws. There weren't teeth—only more crackling light, brighter than the ember, wrong-colored, hungry.
It moved at them in a blur.
Nyra lunged first, spear flashing. The tip struck the mask and skidded off with a screech that set everyone's ears ringing. Ezekiel launched a pair of knives; they melted in mid-air.
The watchdog hit Xavier full in the chest, slamming him across the floor. Stone cracked. Raine's heart jerked—but Xavier rolled to his feet, blood at the corner of his mouth, eyes blazing gold.
Raine felt the ember behind her, pulsing like a second heartbeat. It's power, that instinct whispered. Use it or lose everything.
She spun, thrust both hands into the cold blue flame. It should have burned. It felt like plunging her arms into ice and thunder instead. The ember flared, the mark on her skin answering in kind.
The watchdog whipped around—drawn to the light pouring off her. It charged.
Raine yanked the ember free of the fire. Blue sparks raced up her arms; her veins glowed beneath her skin. She didn't have a plan—just raw need to protect the people at her back.
The thing leapt.
Raine thrust her palm out and shouted a word she didn't remember learning.
Light silver edged with night-blue exploded from her hand. It hit the watchdog mid-air. The creature twisted, howling in a voice that made the stones tremble. The mask cracked wider; pale shards flew like shattered glass. It crashed to the ground, skidded, tried to rise.
Xavier was already there. One swing of his clawed hand ripped through the exposed rift of light. The watchdog's body folded in on itself, turning to ash that hissed across the floor and was gone.
Silence rushed back in.
Raine's arms shook; the ember floated above her palm like a small, impossibly bright star. Xavier limped to her side, blood soaking his shirt. He put a hand on her shoulder equal parts steadying her and himself.
"You okay?" she whispered.
He managed a crooked smile. "Ask me tomorrow."
Nyra knelt, running fingers through the pile of black dust where the creature had fallen. "A fragment," she said. "The beast itself is still sleeping maybe. You just killed its shadow."
"Then the real one will wake angry," Ezekiel muttered, wiping soot from his face.
Raine closed her hand around the ember; it shrank to the size of a marble, nestling against her skin like it belonged there. She met her friends' eyes one by one.
"Let it wake," she said, voice calm but shaking the dust-still air. "When it comes, we'll be ready."
And somewhere deep beneath the ruins, as if in answer, something very large exhaled.