Blaze did not slow her steps as Jin Valley rose before them again.
The house waited exactly as it had before—crooked, hollow, saturated with grief that clung to the air like damp smoke. The song was gone now, held back by Blaze's will alone, but the silence inside trembled, expectant.
Ven stood close to her side, small hands clenched in her cloak. He hesitated at the threshold.
"This is… her house," he whispered.
Blaze did not answer. She stepped inside and lifted one finger.
The air snapped.
Gold flickered briefly in Ven's eyes—sharp, fleeting—and then he gasped.
"Mom?"
Lia stood where she always had.
Torn dress. Soft glow. Eyes wide with disbelief that shattered into raw relief the instant she saw him.
"Ven."
He ran.
Straight through the space where she stood—and this time, his arms closed around her.
"Why did you leave me?" he cried, burying his face against her. "Why did you die? I was scared. I couldn't find you—"
"I'm sorry," Lia sobbed, clutching him as though she could knit herself back into flesh by force alone. "I'm so sorry, my baby. Mama's here. Mama's here."
They clung to each other, shaking, grief spilling freely now that it had finally found its shape.
Maze stood a few steps back, hands curled tight at her sides. Fire dimmed around her shoulders, flickering unsteadily. Her eyes burned—but no tears fell.
Blaze watched.
Expression unmoved. Posture perfect.
What a melodrama, she thought. Humans really do collapse the moment they touch what they love.
Minutes passed.
Too many.
Blaze stepped forward, heels echoing sharply against the floor.
"Are you finished," she said coolly. "I'm bored."
Ven flinched.
Lia looked up, fear and gratitude colliding in her gaze.
"I—thank you," Lia said quickly. "I've seen him now. I can rest. But please—he's alone. Let me stay with him. Just a little longer—"
"No."
The word fell like a blade.
Blaze's eyes were merciless beneath the veil.
"If you remain, others will find you. They will bind you again. They will use you. And they will stain my name."
Lia's voice broke. "Please—"
"No," Blaze repeated, colder. "Do not think of anyone else. Those meant to live will live. The world does not pause for grieving mothers."
Maze leaned closer, whispering urgently, "Master… you're being too hard on her."
"I don't care," Blaze replied without looking at her.
She turned back to Lia. "Say your farewell. Now."
Why am I even saying this, Blaze thought irritably. Ridiculous.
Lia lowered her head. Then she lifted it again, resolve trembling but intact.
"Then… let me sing for him. Just once."
Maze answered before Blaze could speak. "Okay."
Blaze's gaze snapped sideways.
This thing, she thought sharply. Too soft. She's forgetting herself.
Lia began to sing.
No power bound into it now. No ritual. No reach beyond the room. Just a mother's voice, thin and breaking, wrapping around her child one final time.
Ven's breathing slowed. His grip loosened.
He slept.
When the last note faded, the house felt emptier than it ever had.
The lullaby ended.
Forever.
Maze lifted Ven gently into her arms, cradling him with care Blaze found excessive and unnecessary.
Lia straightened.
She looked at Blaze and bowed deeply.
"Thank you," she said. "For your kindness. If there is another life… I will repay you."
Blaze said nothing.
Lia smiled faintly—then dissolved into light, unraveling into nothing until even the air forgot her shape.
The house exhaled.
Blaze turned and walked out.
Maze followed, carrying Ven, flames subdued.
Humans, Blaze thought, stepping into the night. Such useless attachments. And yet they cling as if it matters.
Behind them, Jin Valley lay silent at last.
No song.
No ghost.
Only rest.
Blaze returned to the inn without breaking stride.
Maze followed silently, Ven asleep in her arms, his small breaths steady now—too steady for a night that had nearly devoured him. The inn was quiet, emptied as ordered, its halls stripped of noise and excess. Only one room still held life.
When they entered, a young woman sat on the floor among the remaining children.
She couldn't have been more than twenty. Her clothes were plain, her posture tense but protective, arms loosely around two smaller figures who leaned against her sides. At the sound of footsteps, she rose quickly.
Her eyes went first to Maze.
Then to the boy in her arms.
"Is he—?" the woman asked, worry breaking through her voice.
"He's fine," Maze replied softly. "Just asleep."
Relief flooded the woman's face so quickly it almost hurt to see.
Blaze glanced at her without lifting her veil.
Not another one, she thought flatly.
The woman swallowed, steadying herself, then bowed awkwardly toward Blaze. "Thank you for… for what you've done."
Blaze's patience thinned immediately.
"Who are you," she asked coolly, "and why are you trespassing."
The woman flinched but didn't retreat.
"I—I'm Sera," she said hesitantly. "The wife of one of the merchants. One of the men who kidnapped the children."
Blaze stopped.
"So," she said after a pause. "What."
You couldn't possibly want revenge, Blaze thought. Everyone who saw me remembers nothing. Everyone else is dead.
Sera suddenly dropped to her knees.
"I was taken too," she said quickly, voice shaking. "He forced me to marry him. I wasn't free until tonight. Until everything came out."
Blaze watched her kneel without reaction.
"So," Blaze repeated.
Sera lifted her head, eyes wet but determined.
"The money he stole—the money from selling the children—it's been seized," she said. "Sent to the government. The rest… legally, it's mine."
She took a breath.
"These children," Sera continued, gesturing behind her, "they have no families left. No homes. No one."
Her voice cracked. "I want to take them. All of them. I'll care for them. I swear it. I'll be their mother—better than the one this world gave them."
She bowed her head deeply. "Please. Grant me this."
Blaze answered instantly.
"Yes. Of course. Take them."
Maze blinked in surprise.
Sera froze. "…R–really?"
"Yes," Blaze said flatly.
Good, Blaze thought. Now I don't have to deal with these freeloaders. I hate children anyway.
She turned slightly toward Maze. "Little flames."
Maze understood at once.
She stepped forward and gently placed Ven into Sera's arms. The woman gasped softly, adjusting her grip as though Ven might shatter if she held him wrong.
She looked down at his face—peaceful, unafraid—and tears spilled freely now.
When she looked up again, Maze and Blaze were already gone.
Only the quiet room remained.
Sera whispered to the empty space, "What a kind heart you have. May everyone be blessed with one like yours."
Miles away, on an empty street washed pale by early dawn, Blaze yawned.
Who's cursing me now, she thought irritably.
Maze giggled beside her, light and unburdened.
"You," Blaze said coolly, "seem far too amused."
Maze smiled. "You're scary… but nice."
Blaze stopped walking.
"Come back," she ordered.
Maze nodded immediately, her form dissolving into soft gold flame that flowed back into the feather mark on Blaze's left wrist.
The street fell silent.
Blaze adjusted her stride and continued forward, alone once more.
Ridiculous creatures, she thought. All of them.
The morning sun climbed higher.
And the world, blissfully ignorant, went on.
The street emptied as the sun climbed.
Shutters opened. Vendors began laying out wares. Somewhere, a bell rang—life resuming as if nothing had ever been wrong.
Blaze walked through it untouched.
No one looked twice at the veiled woman moving against the flow of morning. No one felt the weight of what had passed beneath their feet only hours before. That was how it was supposed to be.
They will remember nothing of me, she thought. Good.
The golden feather mark rested quietly now, warm against her wrist. Maze slept within it—exhausted, softened by grief she still did not fully understand.
Blaze flexed her fingers once.
Humans, she thought with faint irritation. Always binding themselves to things that vanish.
Her steps slowed.
Ahead, the valley lay quiet. Jin Valley no longer hummed with song. No pull tugged at the air. No grief threaded itself through the wind.
The lullaby was gone.
For the first time since she had arrived, the land felt… ordinary.
Blaze stopped at the edge of the road and looked back once, toward the town now fully awake.
Children would wake in unfamiliar beds, memories smoothed into harmless gaps. Parents would hold what they thought they had nearly lost to chance. Officials would congratulate themselves for uncovering corruption without ever knowing how close they'd come to annihilation.
Justice, they would call it.
Blaze turned away.
Pathetic, she thought. They mistake survival for virtue.
The feather mark pulsed faintly.
Maze stirred.
"Master," her voice echoed softly inside Blaze's mind, careful now. "Did… did I do wrong?"
Blaze scoffed quietly. "You were inefficient."
A pause.
"…But the outcome was acceptable."
Maze brightened instantly, the warmth of her relief brushing Blaze's senses like unwanted sunlight.
Blaze grimaced. Annoying.
She resumed walking.
Behind her, Jin Valley remained still—cleansed, silent, empty of ghosts and merchants alike.
Ahead lay roads untraveled, names untarnished, and a world still foolish enough to believe monsters came without reason.
Blaze adjusted the red flower tucked behind her ear as the city disappeared behind her.
Let them sleep, she thought coolly. I am done here.
And somewhere far behind, where a lullaby once lingered—
Silence held.
Clean.
Blaze had nearly reached the city gates when the golden feather mark on her wrist flickered—once, sharp and insistent.
She stopped.
"…What now," Blaze said flatly.
Maze's voice slipped into her thoughts, hesitant. "Master… we're forgetting someone."
Blaze's eyes narrowed. I doubt it.
"…Aleric," Maze added. "He's still in that expensive inn."
Blaze stared at the road ahead for a long moment.
"I don't care," she said at last.
She took one more step—then stopped again.
"…But since you reminded me," she added coolly, turning on her heel, "let's go get him. I still require a cook."
Maze brightened instantly.
They returned to the inn.
It was just as Blaze had left it—silent, polished, painfully expensive. No guests. No laughter. Only staff who froze the moment she crossed the threshold, bowing too quickly, too deeply.
Before Blaze could take a second step inside—
"A–A–Aah!"
Aleric came running.
He slammed into her without warning, arms wrapping around her waist, face pressed into her side as if she were the last solid thing in the world.
"Sister!" he cried. "I thought—you didn't come back—I thought you left me alone!"
Blaze stiffened.
"Let go," she said coldly. "You're messing up my clothes."
He didn't.
Her fingers twitched.
Should I just kill him, she thought idly. It would be quieter.
"Aleric," she said, voice dropping a degree colder. "This is your final warning."
He froze—then slowly released her, stepping back with trembling hands.
"I—I'm sorry," he said, wiping his eyes. "I just… I was scared."
Blaze glanced down at her sleeve where he'd clutched it, faint creases now marring the fabric.
She clicked her tongue. "I should have left you here," she said plainly. "Now I need new clothes."
Aleric's shoulders shook as he sniffed, trying—and failing—not to cry again.
"Stop crying," Blaze said sharply. "Or I'll throw you into a well."
The effect was immediate.
Aleric went dead silent, eyes wide, tears stopping mid-fall.
"Yes," he squeaked.
Blaze turned and walked out without another glance.
I need new clothes, she thought irritably.
These are unhygienic now.
Aleric scrambled after her, struggling to match her pace, nearly tripping as he tried to keep up.
Maze's quiet laughter echoed from the feather mark.
Blaze ignored it.
The city gates loomed ahead once more.
This time, she didn't stop.