Bloodmarked: The forgotten seal

Somewhere deep in the mountain, a heartbeat pulsed against stone.

But it didn't belong to Cairen.

The Echo

He felt it first during training — not pain, not fear — just a ripple through the sword, like it was suddenly unsure of whose hand it belonged to.

Then came the vision.

He saw himself.

Not a reflection — a version.

Older. Paler. Dressed in dark crimson armor. Same eyes… but colder. Same sword… but reversed.

The twinflame, mirrored.

When he looked into those eyes, he felt one word, spoken without sound.

"Soon."

And then the dream shattered.

Council of Fire

Cairen awoke with sweat on his neck and heat in his chest. His blade hovered beside his bed — hovered, not rested — like it had decided gravity was optional.

He stormed toward the central chamber, passing soldiers and scholars who all turned to stare. Everyone could feel it now — the Vault's tension had turned to dread.

Lyrix intercepted him at the spiral stairs. "They're calling an emergency Council."

"I didn't vote for anything."

"You don't get a vote," she said. "You get questioned."

Cairen raised an eyebrow. "Like… a job interview?"

"Like a trial."

The Council sat in a ring of obsidian seats, with a pit of flame in the center. The heat wasn't just for effect — it burned truth into the room. If you lied, it flared. If you deflected, it hissed. If you held back too much… it screamed.

Tessia stood in the shadows, arms crossed, face unreadable.

Cairen stepped into the flame-ring and waited.

An elder named Magren leaned forward. "The twinflame's second spark has stirred. Do you deny this?"

"I don't even understand it."

"But you've seen something. Someone."

Cairen paused. Then said, "Yes."

The flames whispered.

Another elder asked, "What did it show you?"

"Me. But… not me. Twisted. Reversed."

"The second flame always reflects," Lyrix said quietly.

Tessia flinched at that.

Elder Magren frowned. "What if your reflection wants more than just to be seen?"

Secrets and Firecracks

After the Council, Cairen found Tessia alone in the scroll chamber, flipping through dragon histories with a face full of thunder.

"You were there," he said.

"I'm always there."

"But you said nothing."

She turned. "What was I supposed to say? 'Hi everyone, I think my maybe-boyfriend is psychically bonded to his own evil twinflame'?"

"Wait. Are we 'maybe'?"

She shoved a scroll into his chest. "Read this."

He scanned the page. Old script. Ink scorched with heat magic. The prophecy read:

"When twinflames burn in mirrors, the fire shall split and reign twice.

But only one shall wear the soul."

"The other… shall wear the death."

He looked up. "This is about me."

She shook her head. "This is about two of you."

The Tomb Below All Others

That night, Lyrix brought him below the Vault — far below — into a level sealed off for centuries. It smelled of sulfur and old prayers.

They passed statues of dragon heads, cracked open from within. And then they reached it.

A sarcophagus, sealed with three locks, burned shut by magic no one dared touch.

Except it was already open.

"Did you…?"

"No," she said. "That's the problem."

Inside lay a body — armor-clad, pale skin. Almost a perfect mirror of Cairen. But this one didn't breathe. He didn't twitch. He didn't blink.

Until Cairen stepped closer.

And then the body smiled.

Only for a second.

But Cairen saw it.

Ember Tongue Rises

Elsewhere — in caverns even the dragons had forgotten — the cult gathered.

The masked leader from before removed his helm.

It wasn't a man at all.

It was a woman — red-haired, sharp-eyed, cloaked in flame like a second skin. Her hands glowed with ember tattoos.

And behind her… stood a man bound in chains.

Cairen. Or… not.

He looked like Cairen. But the smile was wrong. The eyes were wrong.

"You promised me a soul," he said.

The woman nodded. "And now your twin carries it."

The fake-Cairen laughed. "Then I'll take it back."

Fire Mirror

Back in the Vault, Cairen couldn't sleep.

His blade pulsed like a second heartbeat. Kael'dros was whispering now — in full sentences. In warnings.

"He rises. He knows you. He wants what you hold. The fire is not only yours."

Cairen snapped. "Why me? Why now?"

The blade didn't answer.

Instead, it showed him something.

A mirror — ancient, golden-edged, hidden in the lost wing of the Vault.

In the reflection: Cairen, standing still. But when he turned his head…

The reflection didn't.

It smiled again.

Then lifted a blade.

And whispered back.

"Soon."

Final Scene: Betrayal Set in Motion

Tessia walked silently into a chamber lined with molten scrolls. The Ember Tongue flame-sigil hovered in the corner — a communication rune.

She didn't speak.

But she held up her hand.

And burned a single word into the air with her fingertip:

"Ready."