The path ahead was winding and cold. The morning light barely touched the forest floor now, filtered through twisted branches that reached toward the sky like they were searching for something they had lost. The seven walked in silence. Not because they were tired, but because something unspoken had settled over them.
Lucy walked a few steps behind Kitty, her hand brushing against the edge of her cloak. The mark on her palm had faded, but its echo hadn't. She could still feel it—like something watching her from inside her own skin. A whisper that hadn't said a word since the dream, yet still pulsed like a heartbeat in the silence.
Tom led the group, eyes sharp, scanning every bend, every rise, every stone. Frank walked beside him, silent but alert. Their roles had reversed in a strange way—Frank no longer felt like the uncertain boy they met long ago. And Tom... Tom had begun to carry more than his sword. He had begun to carry the weight.
Susan held her glyph scanner in one hand, its surface flickering faintly. She hadn't said much all morning. Jack trailed behind, kicking at roots, still managing to be restless even in moments of deep tension. Peter was at the rear, quiet, but his eyes never stopped moving.
It was Kitty who broke the silence.
"We forgot something," she said quietly.
Everyone slowed down.
"What do you mean?" Lucy asked.
"I mean all of us. Everything we've been through lately—monsters, memories, glyphs, corrupted cities… we stopped talking about the one thing that started all of this."
Tom turned to look at her. "The Demon Heirs."
Kitty nodded. "We are the Heirs. And we've stopped being them."
Frank's voice was low. "No. We didn't stop being. We just stopped remembering."
Susan finally looked up from her scanner. "I've been thinking that too. We've been running from everything outside… and forgetting what's inside."
Lucy's hand tightened at her side. She didn't speak, but she didn't need to. Everyone could feel it now—the quiet tension that lived in their bones. Their demons were never gone. Just waiting. Waiting for the right moment.
Peter whispered, "What if they start waking again?"
"They will," Tom said. "That's what this silence is. It's not peace. It's a warning."
Frank looked at the horizon. "They'll come when we need them. Or when we break."
The path bent upward toward a ridge, where pale sunlight flickered through the gaps. A flat clearing waited ahead, framed by ancient stones and a massive split tree that looked like it had been struck by lightning a thousand years ago.
As they stepped into the clearing, the wind stopped completely.
Then the ground shook.
Not violently—just a tremble, like the earth was exhaling.
Susan's glyph lens buzzed to life on its own. "Energy spike," she said. "And it's not coming from outside."
Everyone looked around.
Then Tom staggered forward, clutching his chest.
Kitty grabbed his shoulder. "Tom—?"
He didn't answer.
His body trembled as heat radiated from his back. His breath turned sharp, heavy. And then flames licked out from his fingertips—slow, controlled, but hot enough to scorch the air.
"It's... burning," he said through gritted teeth. "Again."
Frank stepped closer. "Let it."
Tom fell to his knees.
The ground beneath him cracked, and a ring of fire spiraled out in a perfect circle. But this wasn't the wild, uncontrolled blaze from before. This was different. The flame moved like it recognized him. Like it had been waiting for him to come back.
A shadow of flame rose behind him—humanoid, with burning eyes and wings of smoke.
Tom's eyes flashed gold.
Susan stepped back. "His demon… it's fully waking."
Jack whispered, "I thought it already had."
Frank shook his head. "That was just survival. This… this is acceptance."
The fire demon stood fully formed now—connected, not separate. It didn't roar. It didn't scream. It simply waited behind Tom like a second soul.
Then, without warning, the flame vanished.
Tom stood, steam rising off his shoulders. His eyes returned to normal, but something in his presence had changed. He was heavier now. Grounded.
"It's not just power," he said, breathing steadily. "It's a memory. It remembers what I lost."
Peter stepped forward. "Then maybe it's time."
Tom looked at him. "For what?"
Peter placed a hand over his own heart. "To remember mine."
And suddenly, the wind exploded.
A vortex of air rushed into the clearing, spiraling around Peter like a storm collapsing into a single breath. The trees around them bent backward, and the earth lifted beneath his feet.
Lightning cracked above, and a transparent form appeared behind him—sleek, sharp, made of wind and vapor. Its limbs were jagged, fast. Its face hidden in a cyclone of spinning air.
Peter's hair whipped around as his eyes turned sky-blue.
His voice came through the storm. "It always protected me when I ran. Now I choose to stand."
The wind demon hissed—and faded.
Peter dropped to the ground, landing cleanly on his feet.
Jack let out a low whistle. "Okay. That was cool."
Frank looked to Lucy. "How many are still asleep?"
Lucy didn't answer. She looked at her palm.
Susan stepped forward. "I don't know what mine is," she admitted. "But… I feel it now. Like a shape behind the glass."
Kitty looked down. "Mine's still waiting."
Tom nodded. "Then we wait. And we remember."
Frank looked around the circle. "This is what the Monster Trio fears. Not glyphs. Not swords. Us. The real us. The ones with demons."
A slow warmth began to return to the clearing. The fire had faded. The wind had calmed. But something had shifted.
They had awakened what they were. Again.
Lucy closed her eyes.
Deep inside her, something stirred.
But it wasn't redy.
Not yet.