Chapter 9 Smoke Has Memory

Sierra Lane's POV

You can smell lies before you hear them. They hang in the air, sweet like perfume, but with that sharp afterbite of something spoiled. As I stood in front of the woman who claimed to be my dead mother, that was all I could taste.

She looked like Isla Lane. Her eyes, her voice, the mole near her temple. The memory tugged at me, but it was faint. A half-burned photograph in my mind. And yet the way she said my name, it struck like lightning through old scars.

"How did you survive?" I asked. Not softly.

Her smile did not reach her eyes. "I did not. Not completely."

Behind me, Dominic stiffened. His fingers twitched once before curling into fists. Elias stood like a statue, his expression carved from something ancient. Neither spoke.

She reached out, slow like approaching a wounded animal. "You are still wearing your mark."

"It is not a mark," I snapped. "It is a curse I do not understand."

Something changed in the way she looked at me. Pride? Pain? Maybe both. "You will."

I took a step back. "Say something that proves it. Something only she would know."

She looked at me like she had already buried me once and hated the thought of doing it again. "When you were six, you stole a red crayon from church and drew moons on the walls of our apartment. You said it was protection. You said the dreams would stop if the moons watched you sleep."

I forgot how to breathe.

No one knew that. Not even my father.

Dominic moved forward, voice like winter steel. "This cannot be her. She died before the blood eclipse."

Isla-if that was her, met his stare. "No. I was taken. Buried beneath the bloodstone crypt. Held by the Thorne Council's High Shadow for thirteen years. I escaped when the veil cracked last solstice."

My throat closed.

"What did they want?"

"You."

My legs wobbled. Elias caught my elbow before I fell. His face was thundercloud-dark. "Enough riddles. We need proof."

She nodded. Slowly, she reached beneath her cloak and pulled out a shard of obsidian wrapped in cloth. The moment she unwrapped it, the air grew heavier. The shard pulsed with faint red light. Carved into its center was the same crescent-and-line symbol as my birthmark.

"This is her heartstone," Elias whispered. "It was supposed to have been buried with her."

Isla set it in my palm. It was warm. Too warm.

It pulsed once. Then again.

Pain sliced through my chest. I dropped the shard, gasping. Smoke rose from my palm where it had touched me.

Elias grabbed it and wrapped it again. "It knows her. That is proof enough."

Dominic did not move. His jaw was tight, his eyes unreadable. "What do you want from her now?"

Isla looked at me. "To train you. To prepare you. You have no time left, Sierra. You are awakening too fast. If you do not harness what sleeps inside you, it will consume you. And everyone near you."

I shook my head. "You expect me to trust you? After thirteen years of silence?"

"No," she said. "I expect you to survive. Whether you hate me or not."

My fingers itched toward the dagger at my hip.

Dominic stepped between us. "You will not take her."

Isla raised an eyebrow. "You cannot stop what is already written. She is Crux. She will not belong to you. Not to the Council. Not to me. But she must choose her path. Or die blind."

Silence wrapped around us like fog.

Finally, I said, "I want answers. Real ones. You say you were buried. Prove it. Show me where."

Isla smiled. It was not pleasant. "Then we go now. Before the sun rises."

The drive took hours. We crossed state lines, passed crumbling highways that looked like scars through forgotten forest. Elias drove. Dominic rode shotgun, silent and seething. I sat in the back with Isla. No one spoke much. Words felt dangerous.

The car finally stopped at a forgotten cemetery tucked behind a broken church. Ivy strangled the gravestones. The gate hung open like a mouth.

Isla led us to a tomb marked only with a black crescent. She whispered something under her breath, and the stone creaked. Split. Opened.

A spiral staircase led down into pitch dark.

Dominic growled low. "This is a trap."

I shook my head. "No. This is a grave. And graves do not lie."

The air grew colder with every step. My skin buzzed like I was walking through memory. At the bottom was a chamber. Walls of obsidian. Chains. Bones.

And a mark carved into the center of the floor. A sigil shaped like a wolf devouring the moon.

"They kept you here?" I whispered.

Isla knelt. Pressed her hand to the stone. It glowed briefly, then dimmed.

"This was where I gave birth to your second self."

I blinked. "My what?"

She looked up. "They split you. Used old magic to fracture your soul. Half human. Half something older. They planned to use you as a vessel for their rebirth. But your father stole you away before the ritual was complete."

My knees buckled.

Elias caught me again.

Dominic's voice was thick with rage. "And now?"

Isla rose. "Now she has awakened without the anchor they intended. Which means she is unstable. Unpredictable. But she is still the key."

I looked at my hands. They did not feel like mine.

A gust of wind tore through the chamber. The torches went dark.

In the silence, a voice echoed.

"Crux has returned. The Veil shall bleed."

It was not Isla.

It came from the shadows beyond the tomb.

Dominic spun. "We are not alone."

Elias drew his blade. "Shadows. They followed us."

Figures stepped into view. Hooded. Armed. Eyes glowing blue.

Isla shoved me behind her. "Get her out. Now."

I pulled my dagger.

The first one lunged. I ducked, slashed. Felt the blade burn as it cut flesh. Dominic shifted mid-stride, claws out, teeth bared. Elias moved like fire.

It was chaos. Metal. Growls. Screams.

Then one of them grabbed me.

Cold hands. Sharp teeth. Whispered words.

"She belongs to the Void."

And I snapped.

Power surged up my spine like molten ice. I screamed, and the walls cracked. The mark on the floor glowed blinding white. The attacker disintegrated in my hands.

Silence. Then all the shadows fled.

Smoke hung in the air. Ash settled on my lashes.

Dominic stood, chest heaving. "What was that?"

Isla's voice was soft. "That was her waking. Fully."

I wiped blood from my face.

"I want out of this tomb. Now."

We climbed out under a sky smeared with gray. I felt hollow. Heavy. Alive in a way I did not recognize.

Back in the car, no one spoke until we reached the estate. I went straight to my room and locked the door.

I stared in the mirror. My eyes looked different. Brighter. Older.

I opened the journal. My mother's writing. Page after page of warnings.

But one page had changed.

Ink that had not been there before.

A single line:

Crux must choose Hunter, Heir, or Hollow.

And beneath it, a fresh drawing.

My face.

But with silver eyes.

And behind me stood a throne of bones.

I slammed the book shut.

And for the first time, I felt afraid of myself.