Chapter 63: What Was Buried

It started with silence again. Not the heavy, breath-holding kind. Not this time. This was a different silence—one that felt like something was waiting. Not threatening. Just... expectant.

I stood alone in the old greenhouse behind the estate. It was barely holding itself together, vines growing through the cracks in the glass ceiling, flowers blooming in places they shouldn’t. The place had once belonged to Gregory’s late wife, apparently. Strange that something beautiful had survived the war.

Maybe it was why I chose it.

Because I needed somewhere that reminded me life could grow out of ruin.

The journal lay open on the table. Rhea’s voice echoed in my head as I stared down at the ritual instructions.

"The flame responds to blood. Memory. Intention. If you truly want to see what was hidden, you have to give it something first."

A drop of blood.

That was the cost.

“Great,” I muttered, pulling a small blade from my pocket. “Here’s hoping this doesn’t end with me hallucinating and walking into traffic.”

Behind me, the glass doors creaked open. Aidan stepped in, his hands in his jacket pockets, eyes on me immediately.

“You sure about this?”

“No,” I replied. “But I don’t think I have a choice anymore.”

He walked over, stopping in front of me. “Then I’m staying.”

I tilted my head. “Even if I start floating and speaking ancient languages?”

“I’ll float right beside you.”

That made me smile.

I sliced the edge of my palm, just enough for a few drops to fall onto the sigil carved into the wood. Nothing happened at first. Then the air shifted—slow, thick, like honey turning to mist.

And then I was gone.

\---

Not physically. Not completely.

I could still feel my body—vaguely. But my mind... it had been pulled somewhere else.

I stood on a dirt road, surrounded by trees older than time. The sky above wasn’t sky at all—it was fire. Not burning. Just glowing. A soft, golden light.

And in the center of it all stood a woman.

Tall.

Dark hair.

Eyes gold like mine.

Her voice cut through me before she even moved her lips.

“You’ve come back.”

I took a shaky step forward. “Do I know you?”

“You did. You always have.”

“Are you the first Harbinger?”

“No,” she said simply. “I’m your mother.”

\---

I swear my knees almost gave out.

“My—what?” I breathed.

She stepped closer, and suddenly, I could see it. Not just in her face. But in the way she stood. The way her eyes didn’t flinch.

“You were never just made, Roxanne. You were born with this. That’s why Gregory wanted you so badly. Why his sister whispered your name before you ever existed. Your bloodline carries the last spark of what they tried to extinguish.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me? Why leave me?”

Her expression faltered, pain flickering in her eyes. “Because they would’ve killed you if they knew. And they would’ve killed me to get to you. So I gave you to a friend. Someone who promised to protect you.”

“Jackson,” I whispered.

She nodded. “He didn’t always agree with me. But he kept his word.”

I turned away, breath catching. “You could’ve told me all this before. You could’ve helped me.”

“I couldn’t reach you until now. You had to come willingly. You had to want the truth badly enough to bleed for it.”

I turned back to her slowly. “And now that I have it—what am I supposed to do with it?”

She stepped forward, placing her hand over my heart.

“Remember who you are. Not just a hunter. Not just a Luna. You are a key. Not to open destruction—but to seal it.”

Her voice grew faint. “The Hollow Flame will burn everything unless you remind it who controls the fire.”

\---

I woke up gasping.

Aidan was right there, hands on my shoulders.

“Rox—hey—breathe. You’re back.”

“I saw her,” I said, gripping his wrist. “My mother. She was one of them. A Harbinger. And she left me to protect me.”

Elena burst through the door. “We got a problem.”

Of course we did.

“What now?” I asked, pulling myself up.

She tossed a radio onto the table. “We just picked up a transmission. You’re not gonna believe who it’s from.”

The voice crackled through the static.

“Roxanne Devlin. This is Gregory.”

Everyone froze.

He continued, his voice calm, clear, and way too confident for someone who was supposed to be dead.

“I know you found the Hollow Flame. And I know you’ve seen what’s buried beneath it. But what you don’t know is that you’re running out of time.”

I felt my pulse spike.

“I’m not here to threaten you,” Gregory said. “I’m here to warn you. The flame’s not waking up because of you. It’s waking up because something else is coming. Something older. Something that doesn’t care about sides. Or bloodlines.”

Then the message cut off.

Just like that.

No coordinates. No explanation. Just enough to light a new fire in our veins.

\---

Later, around the war room table, the air was thick with tension.

Echo stood with her arms crossed. “So Gregory’s alive.”

“And trying to scare us,” Callum added. “Classic tactic.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “That wasn’t fear. That was desperation. Gregory’s never desperate unless something bigger is involved.”

Elena leaned on the back of a chair. “So what do we do?”

I stood slowly, the image of my mother’s face still fresh in my mind.

“We get ahead of it. Whatever’s coming—we don’t wait. We meet it halfway.”

Aidan nodded. “Together.”

“Always,” Ethan echoed.

I looked around the room, every face familiar now. Not just allies.

Family.

And I whispered the words that carried more weight than ever before.

> “Then let’s go remind the world who we are.”