The Nightingale hovered at the edge of a starless abyss.
Below them sprawled a realm that defied the laws of light. The Duskroot stretched out in eternal twilight, caught between day and night, time and stillness. Trees taller than cities loomed from the ground, their trunks braided with blackstone and voidbark. Their leaves shimmered not with light, but memory.
No sun ever rose here.
Only shadow.
And somewhere within, the second Ember Key waited.
Aeris stood on the bridge, arms crossed. "We shouldn't go."
Lyra raised an eyebrow "Because it's dangerous?"
"Because things born here don't die. They just forget who they were."
Kaelen nodded "I've heard the rumors. They say the Duskroot doesn't have a sky — it has a mirror, and it watches."
Sera muttered, "So we're walking into a nightmare."
Lyra looked at the growing path of twilight forming below them.
"No," she said "We're walking into truth."
The descent was wordless.
The ship hovered as low as it could. They landed near a clearing of silver mist and vine-wrapped ruins. The air was heavy — not with heat or scent, but with weight. Every breath pulled at their minds, asking them to let go.
Let go of memory.
Let go of self.
Let the Root remember for you.
Lyra led the way, fire blazing gently from her palm, more for anchor than light.
The ruins beneath their feet were old — older than the Ember Line, older than even the Realms of Origin. Strange sigils pulsed faintly on the stones, resembling constellations that no longer existed.
And the trees…
They whispered.
Not wind.
Voices.
"You will forget why you came."
"You will remember what you were."
"You will burn for what you could become."
Kaelen exhaled "This place is sentient."
Lyra nodded slowly "Then it knows we're looking."
They reached the first altar by nightfall — not that the sky changed.
A stone platform rose among the roots, and above it hovered a spectral image — a vision from a forgotten past. Lyra stepped forward, and the scene shimmered into clarity.
A child.
Carrying a flame in her chest.
Running from a village on fire.
Screaming names she no longer remembered.
Lyra staggered back.
"That's me."
Kaelen placed a hand on her shoulder "No. That's who you might've been."
The Duskroot doesn't show what was.
It shows what might have been lost.
The flame in Lyra's chest flickered, resonating with something nearby.
Beneath the altar, they found the Dusk Key.
Unlike the first, it was cold — a shard of obsidian veined with soft violet glow. It didn't radiate heat. It radiated absence.
She reached for it…
…and a hand grabbed hers.
A girl stood there, identical to Lyra in every way — except her eyes were glassy, her expression hollow.
"I'm the you who stayed," she said "The you who gave up the flame when it hurt too much."
The Duskroot had made a copy.
An echo of surrender.
The others stepped back as Lyra stood frozen before the echo.
"I didn't give up," she whispered.
"No," the echo replied "But you wanted to."
A battle didn't break out.
A confrontation of wills did.
The Duskroot wanted to see if she'd fracture — if the weight of all she could've lost would finally break her.
But Lyra burned brighter.
And in that moment, the echo wept — then shattered into ash.
The Dusk Key rose from the altar and flew into Lyra's hand.
It pulsed once.
And now there were two flames inside her.
One of memory.
One of regret.
As they made their way back to the ship, the forest darkened.
The Duskroot didn't like losing its Key.
Shadows twisted behind them.
Footsteps echoed that weren't their own.
And from behind the trees…
A figure stepped out.
A man in a black coat, face hidden by a bone-white mask, flame flickering at his fingertips.
He raised a hand.
And the forest obeyed.
Aeris stepped forward, her voice low "That's not just any warden."
Kaelen's eyes narrowed "That's a Shadowborn."
Lyra stood her ground "Who sent you?"
The man tilted his head.
"I serve the one who ruled before flame."
His hand opened — and a third Key appeared.
This one wasn't forged from ember.
It was made of voidlight.
"You're not the only one collecting pieces, Starborn."
Then he vanished.
Leaving the air colder.
And the flame in Lyra's chest burning faster.