The tremors faded, leaving the keep in uneasy silence. Dust drifted like falling snow, settling on broken stones and shattered banners. In the midst of it, the twisted spawn dragged itself closer, its glowing eyes fixed on Elara.

Kael stepped in front of her, though his empty hands felt like mockery. "Stay back," he growled, though the creature's feeble movements hardly seemed a threat.

It stopped at the edge of their firelight, its broken limbs trembling. The glow in its chest pulsed faintly—slower, softer—unlike the furnace roar of the titan. When it opened its mouth again, the sound that emerged was fragile, almost pleading.

"Mother… flame."

Elara's breath caught. The word clung to her like ash in her lungs. Her flame flickered, guttering with uncertainty. "It knows me," she whispered.

Kael's jaw hardened. "It's trickery. His voice, wearing another shape."

But even as he spoke, the spawn's body convulsed. Not with rage, but pain. Its skin cracked, light bleeding through the fissures in thin lines. Each pulse was weaker than the last.

Elara moved closer despite herself, her fire casting warmth over its broken form. "No… it's dying." She crouched, ignoring Kael's hand reaching to pull her back. "And it's not like the others. The Unborn birthed armies, but this—this is… a fragment."

The creature shivered, its voice breaking into words half-formed. "Heart… burns… chains." Its gaze, luminous and mournful, fixed on Kael. "Sword… inside."

Kael froze. His breath caught in his chest. Was this broken child echoing the truth—or was it another tether of the Unborn meant to twist them further?

Before he could speak, the keep shuddered again. Not a collapse this time, but a rhythm. A heartbeat. Stronger. Closer. The ground seemed to breathe beneath their knees.

The spawn shrieked suddenly, a thin, cracking wail that split the silence. Its body arched, fissures widening as though the tremor beneath the earth was tearing it apart.

Elara cried out, pressing her fire to its chest. The flames didn't consume—it soothed. The cracks sealed, faintly, the light within stabilizing. The creature slumped into her arms, trembling, whispering one last word: "Key."

Kael's eyes narrowed. His instinct screamed to end it, to crush this half-born thing before it could betray them. Yet as he looked upon it, weak and clinging to Elara's fire, he felt something he hadn't expected. Fear, yes—but also the weight of prophecy.

The spawn wasn't just a servant. It was a tether. A piece torn from the Unborn's becoming.

The tremors grew harsher, the keep groaning around them. Stone split, sending cracks up the walls. From the depths below, the heartbeat thundered, rattling their bones.

Elara rose, the broken child clutched to her chest. Her fire wrapped them both, fragile but unyielding. "It's tied to him. Maybe to his weakness. If we abandon it, we abandon the only thread we have."

Kael clenched his fists, torn between instinct and trust. "Or we carry his curse into our blood."

The keep shook violently, the ground splitting open in jagged seams. From the cracks, black smoke poured, reeking of birth and rot.

The Unborn was climbing back into the world.

And Kael and Elara, with the Ashborn Child in their arms, had to choose whether it was salvation—or doom.