The Raven Cult wasn't just a myth.
They were a shadow beneath the empire's skin older than the Flameborn, deeper than the royal bloodlines, and deadlier than any magic Arin had ever faced.
Now, they were coming for him.
Not because of who he was, but because of what he carried.
The spark of a god.
The final ember of something ancient, angry, and unfinished.
And they would burn the world to claim it.
The Chainmaker's words echoed in Arin's ears as he and Lyra descended from the ruins.
"You are the vessel."
Not a warrior. Not a hero.
A container.
Arin's fists clenched. Every part of him wanted to scream. To tear apart the fate he had been bound to without consent. But anger wouldn't save anyone.
So he focused on the chains around him still humming faintly with the Chainmaker's gift.
Lyra walked beside him, her silence louder than any words.
Finally, she asked, "Do you believe him?"
"Yes," Arin said. "And that scares me more than anything."
They didn't make it far before the first sign came.
A black feather, drifting from the sky, untouched by wind.
Then another.
And another.
Until the road ahead of them turned dark—blanketed in feathers, like snow from a nightmare.
Arin drew in a sharp breath. "They're already here."
From the treetops, crows cawed. Dozens. No hundreds. Their eyes glowed silver. And then, slowly, they began to merge. Shadows pooled together.
And from those shadows, a figure emerged.
Clad in layered black robes. Face veiled. Voice like velvet and knives.
"Arin Valerius. At last."
Lyra stepped in front of him. "You're not taking him."
The figure raised one gloved hand and Lyra froze.
Not in fear.
Literally. Frozen, mid-motion, as if time around her stopped.
Arin shouted, catching her before she fell. "What did you do?!"
The figure tilted their head. "Only paused her mind. She's safe. For now."
Rage flared inside him. The chains on his arms glowed faintly. "Who are you?"
"I am Corvus. First Voice of the Raven. Herald of rebirth."
"And you… you are our chosen flame."
Arin's flames ignited around him. Not wild controlled, thanks to the Chainmaker's magic.
"Why me?" he demanded. "Why my family? What do you want from us?"
Corvus didn't answer immediately. Instead, she unrolled a scroll a mirror image of the one the Chainmaker gave Arin.
But this one was complete.
Inscribed in blood.
Etched in prophecy.
"Long ago," Corvus began, "there was a god who walked among mortals. A being of flame and fury. But he was betrayed by his own vessels your ancestors."
"To prevent his return, they scattered his soul… and sealed a spark of it in every heir."
"You, Arin, are the final one. The last piece."
"With you, we will resurrect him."
Arin's blood turned cold.
His parents hadn't been killed in a raid. They'd been sacrificed because someone figured out what they were carrying.
And now he was next.
"No," he whispered. "I won't let you."
Corvus smiled beneath her veil. "You don't have a choice."
The air around her cracked.
Magic surged.
The trees bent backward. The crows shrieked.
And then a lance of black fire burst from her palm.
Arin barely dodged, shielding Lyra's frozen body. The ground exploded behind him.
His own fire responded. Phoenix flame met Raven shadow mid-air, crackling with godlike tension.
The battle began.
Arin leapt into the air, chains swirling like wings. Corvus met him mid-strike, her movements unnaturally fast.
Every blow she struck drained light from the world.
Every time Arin landed a hit, he felt something awaken inside him.
A voice.
"Let me out."
"You need me."
"Burn her. BURN EVERYTHING."
He grit his teeth. "No. I'm not a weapon."
Corvus seemed to sense the struggle.
She laughed, dodging his next strike. "He's waking up, isn't he? The god within. He remembers."
"And once he's free, you'll beg for death."
But Arin wasn't alone.
The chains on his arms pulsed again.
And Lyra gasped, her body finally snapping free from the time-lock.
She saw the chaos and didn't hesitate.
Drawing her twin daggers, she sliced through shadows forming behind Arin, giving him cover.
"You're late," he said, panting.
"You're welcome," she shot back.
Together, they circled Corvus.
She hissed. "You two think you can stop fate?"
"No," Lyra said, "but we can choose how it ends."
In one synchronized strike, Arin released the phoenix flame tempered, focused into Corvus's next spell.
Lyra hurled a dagger into the heart of the magic rune she'd been weaving.
The blast knocked them all backward.
But when the smoke cleared
Corvus was gone.
All that remained was a single feather, burning black and gold.
And a whisper in Arin's mind.
"Soon."
They didn't speak for a long time.
Then Arin said, "She'll come back. Stronger."
"I know."
"She knows what I'm carrying."
"Then we protect it. Together."
He looked at her. Really looked. "You could leave. This isn't your fight."
Lyra rolled her eyes. "Shut up. Of course it is. You're my fight."
He smiled. Not because anything was okay but because she was still here.
And sometimes, that was enough.