The first grappling hook slammed into the Aeon's Wing with the scream of tortured wood. Then came another, and another, their iron teeth sinking deep into our railing. The Hive boarders—silent, efficient, and cold as a winter grave—began to swarm the sides of the ship like black ants over a carcass.
"Hold the lines!" Silas roared. His blue-lit sword carved a luminous arc through the mist, a beacon of defiance in the gloom. Beside him, Kaelen fought with a desperate, frantic savagery, his twin blades parrying the strikes of men he had called brothers only days ago.
But I wasn't looking at the steel. I was looking at the Great Gate—the inner wall of Aethelgard. Three massive stone statues, the Sentinels, were carved into the very face of the mountain, their hollow eyes glowing with a cold, judgmental white light. The ballistas atop the towers groaned as they swiveled, their massive iron bolts leveled directly at our hull.
"The Key!" Elara shouted, ducking as a Hive arrow whistled past her ear. "Lysia, you have to talk to them! Tell them who you are, or they'll send us to the bottom!"
I stepped to the center of the deck, the silver-blue light of the Scroll flaring so bright it burned through the violet fog of the Hive's approach. I threw my head back, my voice amplified by the ancient power thrumming in my marrow.
"I am Lysia Rozette!" I screamed. "Carrier of the Scroll! I seek sanctuary for the Unseen and passage to the Altar!"
The world went silent. The clashing of steel seemed to muffle, and the very air grew heavy enough to crush a man's lungs. The Lead Sentinel, a colossus of moss-covered stone, slowly tilted its head. Its voice was not a sound, but a vibration that rattled my very teeth.
"WHO CALLS TO THE DEEP ROOTS?"
"Lysia Rozette!" I repeated, my heart hammering against my ribs. "The one who holds the Key!"
"DENIED."
The word hit the ship like a physical blow, rocking the Aeon's Wing in the water. One of the massive ballistas fired; the bolt whistled inches above our mast, shattering a Hive skiff behind us into toothpicks.
"Lysia, they don't recognize the name!" Silas yelled, kicking a boarder back into the churning sea. "Try again! Dig deeper!"
"I am Lysia!" I shouted, desperation clawing at my throat. Why weren't they opening? The Scroll was mine. The blood was mine. "I am the daughter of the High-Valleys! I am the Reaper who has returned to the light!"
"YOU SPEAK THE NAME OF A GHOST," the Sentinel boomed, the pressure in the air rising until I fell to my knees, gasping for breath. The white light of the statues turned a warning shade of amber. "YOU SPEAK THE NAME GIVEN BY THE FIRE. DO YOU KNOW YOUR NAME, CHILD OF ASH?"
I was trembling, the silver-blue light in my veins flickering like a dying candle. "Yes! I just told you! Lysia is my name!"
The Lead Sentinel shook its massive stone head, a sound like a mountain grinding against its own foundation.
"NO. YOU HAVE FORGOTTEN THE SEED FROM WHICH YOU SPRANG."
The stone giant leaned forward, its gaze piercing through the layers of my identity—the Reaper, the orphan, the thief. It looked past the porcelain and the scar.
"YOU ARE NOT LYSIA ROZETTE. THAT IS A NAME FOR THE SCRIBES OF MEN. YOUR NAME IS ALYSIA AEDES. YOU ARE THE THIRD BRANCH, THE SEVENTH LEAF. YOU ARE ONE OF THE CHILDREN OF YGGDRASIL, THE WORLD TREE. YOU ARE THE BLOOD OF THE ROOT MADE FLESH."
The world tilted. Alysia Aedes.
The name hit me with the force of a recovered memory. It wasn't just a sound; it was an anchor. Suddenly, the "burn" on my shoulder didn't feel like a scar from Califer's fire—it felt like a knot in wood, a natural part of my design. I wasn't just an orphan of a noble house; I was a fragment of the world's living heart, hidden among mortals to protect the very gate I was now standing before.
"I am... Alysia Aedes," I whispered, the words vibrating with a frequency that silenced the entire lagoon.
The amber light in the Sentinels' eyes vanished, replaced by a blinding, celestial gold. The massive chains that had blocked our path didn't just lower; they dissolved into petals of white light that drifted onto the water.
"WELCOME HOME, DAUGHTER OF THE TREE," the Sentinel resonated, the voice now a warm hum. "THE GARDEN HAS MISSED YOU."
As the Great Gate began to swing open, revealing the lush, glowing heart of the sanctuary, a roar of fury erupted from the sea behind us. The Dread-Sovereign had finally breached the outer veil. Califer stood at the prow, his face contorted in a mask of pure, unadulterated greed.
"So," Califer's voice carried over the water, amplified by his dark sorcery. "The little bird finally remembers her nest. It doesn't matter. The Tree will burn just as the High-Valleys did!"
But as I stood up, the silver-blue light was gone, replaced by a vibrant, emerald green that radiated from my skin. I looked at my hands, and for the first time in my life, I didn't see the hands of a killer. I saw the hands of a protector.
"Kaelen! Silas!" I shouted, my voice now carrying the authority of the Earth itself. "Get the ship inside! I'm going to close the door—for good."
I turned toward the encroaching fleet, my feet rooting deep into the deck. I raised my arms, and the water of the lagoon began to churn, not with waves, but with thick, ancient vines rising from the depths to ensnare the Hive's ships.
"You took my past, Califer," I yelled over the roar of the rising forest. "But you won't take the world's future!"