Chapter 48 The Ash of Memory
The air over the Eastern Region didn't smell like the home I remembered.
Gone was the scent of blooming jasmine and the crisp, clean wind from the mountains.
Instead, as the Lunar Alliance transport hovered over the coordinates of the Black Mountain Estate, the atmosphere was thick with the acrid stench of old smoke and chemical suppressants.
"Don't look, Mama," Liam whispered, his voice small and fragile.
He and Leo sat huddled together on the transport's bench, their eyes—once brilliant with violet fire—now a dull, human brown.
The sacrifice at Selene had left them physically weak, their connection to the world around them severed like a frayed wire.
"I have to look, Liam," I said, my hand gripping the cold metal railing.
"We all do."
The Estate was a skeleton.
The grand stone facade that had once stood as a testament to the Black Mountain's strength was charred and crumbling.
The lush gardens where the twins had taken their first steps were now a graveyard of blackened stumps and grey ash.
But it wasn't just the fire that had changed the landscape.
Surrounding the ruins were massive, hexagonal structures of gleaming white chrome—Aegis pylons.
They hummed with a low-frequency vibration that made my teeth ache and my magic itch beneath my skin.
"They've turned the pack lands into a laboratory," Killian growled, his hand resting on the small of my back. His touch was the only thing keeping me grounded. He looked toward the remains of the Great Hall, his golden eyes narrowing. "She’s in there. I can feel her scent. It’s like yours, Elara, but.
.. cold. Like a winter that never ends."
"The 'Home' she built for us," I spat, the silver fire licking at my knuckles.
As the transport touched down in the courtyard, the Aegis pylons shifted.
The humming intensified, and a holographic field shimmered into existence, creating a dome over the ruins.
We weren't just landing; we were entering a cage.
A woman stepped out from the shadows of the ruined portico.
She was dressed in a simple white lab coat over a sharp black suit.
She looked younger than she had in the recording—vibrant, poised, and utterly unaffected by the destruction surrounding her.
"Welcome home, Elara," my mother, Lilith, said.
Her voice was a perfect mirror of mine, smooth and melodic.
"I’ve been waiting twenty years to see you stand on this ground again. "