Chapter 4 A pact once broken

The Circle's chamber trembled in the silence that followed Kael's words. Auren felt it-not in the stone walls or floor, but in the very magic that pulsed through the runes etched into the room. As if the Vale itself had leaned in to listen.

Sorin Halvar's gaze sharpened. "You speak of old truths, girl. Dangerous ones."

"I speak of what your silence has fed for years," Auren replied, voice steady. "If the Wyrm stirs, then it was never buried deep enough."

Elowen lifted a hand, calm and measured. "Enough. The time for riddles and posturing has passed. The child has returned, and the Wyrm remembers her. We cannot pretend the signs are meaningless."

"The signs lie," muttered one of the seated members - a younger woman with ice-blonde hair and violet eyes. Lyra Morran. "Magic can be twisted, especially the kind her bloodline carries."

Auren's jaw clenched. "Say what you mean."

"You're a cursed legacy," Lyra said, rising. "Your mother consorted with forbidden magics. Shadow-born spells. Blood rites. We were right to fear her."

"My mother protected this Vale," Auren snapped. "She healed, she taught-"

"She betrayed the Pact," Sorin cut in.

And there it was.

Auren's breath caught. The Pact. She'd heard it whispered as a child, always in hushed tones, always followed by a warning glance. But no one ever explained.

"What Pact?" she demanded.

Kael spoke then, stepping closer to the crescent of seats. "The one made between the founders of the Circle and the Wyrm Tree. The original bargain that gave us dominion over the Vale, over the gifts we bear."

Auren turned toward him, her voice low. "What was the price?"

He hesitated. "A life... every generation. A vessel to carry the Wyrm's will. Chosen from among us."

The words hit her like a stone to the chest.

"My mother didn't sacrifice anyone," she said.

"No," Kael murmured. "She refused to."

"And so the Wyrm's magic turned restless," Elowen said softly. "The Circle panicked. They accused her of turning against the old ways."

"She was executed," Auren said, each syllable deliberate, "to appease your guilt."

"No," Sorin growled. "She was executed to preserve balance. You think this forest tolerates weakness?"

Auren stepped forward. "I think it remembers injustice."

Kael's eyes met hers. "It does."

The tension in the room cracked like thunder.

Then Elowen spoke again. "Enough. Auren Vale has been summoned and heard. We must vote-does she remain under Circle protection, or is she to be cast from our bounds?"

Lyra stood. "Cast."

Sorin: "Cast."

Elowen: "Remain."

Kael: "Remain."

The last two members hesitated - then split their votes.

Three to three.

All eyes turned to the final chair. Empty.

"The seventh seat has long remained vacant," Elowen said.

"It was your mother's," Sorin added coldly.

Auren felt the pull of the runes, the silent weight of the circle's judgment pressing in on her.

"I claim it," she said.

Gasps rippled. Even Kael stiffened.

"You what?" Lyra spat.

"She's blood-bound to it," Elowen said, voice soft with awe. "The Wyrm accepted her birth beneath the tree. She has every right."

"That seat is cursed," Sorin growled.

Auren walked toward the stone chair at the outer rim, past the crescent of judgment. Its surface was worn and carved with ancient sigils that shimmered faintly as she approached. She placed her palm against the stone.

A flash of light erupted from the seat - not blinding, but blazoned with memory. Visions burst behind her eyes: her mother standing in that seat, the Circle younger, the Wyrm Tree pulsing. Then fire. Screaming. Chains.

Auren didn't flinch.

"I will not be cast aside again," she said.

The room fell still.

Then, Elowen nodded. "The seventh seat speaks. The tie is broken."

Kael looked at her like he'd never truly seen her before.

Sorin's fury rippled under his skin. "You think that throne grants you power, girl? You think it absolves your line?"

"No," Auren said. "It's not absolution I seek. It's reckoning."

The Circle's decision granted her temporary sanctuary - a fragile shield, but one she knew wouldn't last. The village, however, wasn't so forgiving.

By dusk, eyes followed her with suspicion, old wounds bleeding fresh. Mothers whispered and pulled their children close. Men stopped their work to spit at the earth near her feet. The tale of Lira Vale, the fire-witch who had defied the Circle, hadn't faded.

Auren endured it. She always had.

She returned to the Hollow, where the Wyrm Tree still pulsed like a sleeping heart. The runes were brighter now. She sat at its base and cracked open her mother's spellbook again. This time, she dared turn to the pages beyond the pressed violet.

The ink there was darker. Older.

One page detailed a ritual - half-forgotten, its script broken between languages. The words "Blood for Bond" were repeated often. It spoke of a pact renewed. Of shadow reclaimed.

And at the bottom: "Only the heir may mend what was broken."

"A pact once broken..." she whispered. "That's what this is about."

Not just a lineage. A promise shattered. One the forest hadn't forgiven.

A branch cracked behind her.

She turned sharply - Kael stood just beyond the rune circle, arms crossed.

"You shouldn't be here," she said.

"I was the one who brought you back."

"That doesn't mean you trust me."

"No," he said. "But I remember who you were before all this. Before the fire."

She looked away. "That girl's gone."

Kael stepped closer. "Then let's find the one you've become."

He sat across from her, outside the ring. For a long time, they said nothing.

Then she asked, "Did you know about the Pact when we were kids?"

Kael nodded slowly. "My family trained me early. Prepared me to take a seat."

"You knew I was marked?"

He hesitated. "Not then. But I knew something was different."

Auren ran a finger along the scar on her chest.

"It's a vessel mark, isn't it?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied. "It means the Wyrm once chose you."

"Then why didn't it take me?"

"Your mother shielded you. She took the burden in your place."

"And died for it," Auren said bitterly.

Kael leaned forward. "What if we could undo it?"

Auren blinked. "Undo what?"

"The Pact. Break the cycle."

"Would the forest allow it?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "But I do know it's waking. If we don't act, it will choose again."

Auren felt the weight of his words settle deep in her bones.

"Then we start with the ritual," she said. "Blood for bond."

Kael's brows furrowed. "That ritual was sealed for a reason."

"So was the Wyrm," she replied. "Look where that got us."

That night, Auren lit a fire near the Wyrm Tree and began the rite.

Kael stood watch as she drew the runes into the dirt, whispering the incantations scrawled in her mother's handwriting. When the moment came, she pricked her finger and let a drop of blood fall onto the root of the tree.

The runes flared red.

Wind howled.

The forest shuddered.

And a voice returned - clearer now. Older.

"Daughter of flame. Scion of the Hollow. You seek what was broken."

Auren bowed her head. "I seek the truth."

"Then walk where your mother fell."

Auren's breath hitched. "Where?"

The root glowed brighter, then cracked open to reveal a passage.

Beneath the Wyrm Tree.

Into the old catacombs.

Into the past.

Kael looked at her. "If you go down there, there's no turning back."

"I don't want to turn back."

She stepped into the roots.