Chapter 7 Fire Does not Flinch

Sierra Lane's POV

Dreams used to be a safe place. Mine were filled with subway screeches, spilled coffee, and deadlines that chased me like wolves. Now they were wolves. And fire. And men whispering my name in tongues that tasted like blood and prophecy.

When I woke, my hands were clenched so tight I did drawn blood with my own nails. The dagger was still there, tucked under my pillow like a secret I could not un-know. I stared at the ceiling. Cold light poured through the window. Dawn. The kind of dawn that made everything look more fragile than it was.

I did not feel fragile. I felt scorched.

Downstairs, Dominic and Elias were already waiting. Dominic looked like he had not slept. Elias looked like he never needed to. My mother was not in sight. Good. I did not know what I did say to her yet, or if anything I said would come out without shaking.

Dominic did not speak right away. Just looked at me. Studied me, like I did grown horns overnight.

"Something's changed," he said.

"Everything's changed," I replied.

He nodded. "The archives are sealed. Old blood vault. Protected by oath and instinct. If we break into them, it's war."

"Then we do it quiet," I said. "Fast and quiet. Like good criminals."

Elias cracked a rare smile. "She's finally speaking our language."

We moved before the rest of the estate woke. No guards. No priestesses. Just us and the growing tension thick enough to choke on.

The vault was buried beneath the east wing, behind a chapel that smelled like rust and betrayal. Moon sigils etched into the stone shimmered as we passed. Elias pressed his palm to the altar and muttered a phrase that turned the air electric. The wall groaned, split open, and revealed a narrow passage, lit by flame that did not flicker.

I stepped in first.

The walls were lined with bones.

Not human.

Not quite anything I could name.

I did not ask.

The air grew heavier as we descended. Not with heat, but with memory. Like the walls remembered every secret buried inside them and hated us for coming.

At the end of the tunnel stood the door. Twelve feet tall, made of something blacker than shadow, and carved with words that pulsed against my skin.

Blood remembers what the mind forgets.

Dominic didn't hesitate. He drew a blade from inside his coat and sliced a line across his palm. Pressed it to the center of the door. Nothing happened. His jaw tightened.

Elias tried next. Same result.

I stepped forward.

The dagger in my hand pulsed like it had been waiting.

I sliced my hand. The pain was sharp, clean. Honest.

The door shivered.

Then it opened.

The chamber inside was circular, domed with crystal and silver, packed floor to ceiling with scrolls, tablets, and books bound in skin I didn't want to identify.

Dominic stayed near the entrance, watching. Elias drifted toward the left wall, scanning.

I moved to the center.

A pedestal stood there. Alone. Untouched. Covered in dust and wax seals.

The dagger warmed in my grip.

I touched the first seal.

It burned away without sound.

Then the second.

The third cracked like bone.

When I peeled open the final layer, a scroll unfurled, aged and gold-edged.

My name was on it.

In blood.

Not ink. Not etched. Written in blood. Fresh.

My knees buckled, but I did not fall. I read.

Crux of the Hollow Line. Twinborn. Flame-blooded. Inheritor of the fractured crown.

I couldn't breathe.

Elias was suddenly beside me, face pale.

"That's not possible."

"What does it mean?"

He didn't answer.

Dominic did.

"It means you weren't just born from prophecy. You are the prophecy."

I looked at them both. The anger rising wasn't sharp. It was slow, molten, devastating.

"You knew."

Dominic didn't flinch. "We suspected. But this... this is confirmation."

"What does 'fractured crown' mean?"

Elias exhaled. "There used to be one ruler. One bloodline that kept the peace between wolf, priestess, and shadowkind. That line was wiped out two centuries ago. Or so we thought."

"So now everyone's going to come hunting," I said. "To crown me. Or kill me."

"They'll try," Dominic said.

The scroll began to glow. I stepped back.

A second name appeared beside mine.

Selene.

Tied with a symbol I couldn't read.

"Bound," Elias whispered. "Blood-bound."

I tore the scroll from the pedestal and shoved it into my coat.

"We're done here."

But we weren't.

Because as we turned, another door opened.

Not one we unlocked.

One that answered to something deeper.

A figure stood inside. Tall. Shrouded in ash. Wearing armor made of light and bones. Eyes that burned with knowing.

Not human.

Not wolf.

He stepped forward. No sound. Just presence.

"You bear the mark of the Hollow Line," he said.

"Who are you?"

He tilted his head. "The one your blood woke."

Dominic growled low in his chest.

"Why are you here?"

"To watch," the figure said. "To witness the return of balance. Or ruin."

"You're not real," Elias said.

The figure smiled. "Then why are you afraid?"

The room dimmed. The scroll burned itself into ash in my pocket, leaving only the mark on my skin.

The figure pointed at me.

"Two crowns. One will shatter. One will burn. Choose wisely."

Then he was gone.

The room warmed. The lights came back on.

I touched my chest. The mark from the scroll now glowed beneath my skin like an ember refusing to die.

We left the archives in silence.

Outside, the estate buzzed with motion. News was already spreading.

We didn't have time to plan. We did not have time to breathe.

Because the gate was wide open.

And Selene stood there.

She was not alone.

Behind her were priests in crimson robes. Wolves with eyes like fire. A child with silver eyes and ash-stained skin.

Dominic stepped forward. "You are early."

Selene smiled. "You are late. She belongs to us now."

"No," I said, stepping forward. "You do not get to claim me. You do not get to rewrite my blood."

Her eyes narrowed. "You always did think you were better."

"I am better," I said. "Because I did not sell my soul to a lie."

The child behind her raised his hand.

The ground cracked.

The flames beneath the estate hissed like boiling oil.

Selene raised her voice. "You have one night. By moonrise tomorrow, you'll either kneel... or burn."

Then she vanished.

The ground sealed.

And I turned to the two men who had lied, protected, and followed me through every nightmare.

"I want war."

Dominic nodded.

Elias smiled.

"Then we better start bleeding."

That night, the estate went silent. Not with peace. With fear.

Because deep beneath the roots, the First Alpha stirred again.

And he whispered one word into the flame.

"Sisters."