Katrina's POV

The cave swallowed the light. What little came from outside was quickly consumed by the jagged shadows that lined the walls, leaving only the faint glow of my fire to guide the way. The hum that had vibrated in my chest now turned into a rhythmic pulse, like a heartbeat, louder and faster the deeper we went.

I gripped my spear tightly, my knuckles white as I walked beside Jon. His presence, steady and unshakable, was the only thing anchoring me to reality in this twisted place. Reynolds walked a few steps ahead, Ghost close to his side, while Dream perched on my shoulder, her low growl vibrating against my neck.

"Do you feel that?" Reynolds asked, his voice low but filled with tension.

"Feel it?" I muttered. "It's like it's crawling under my skin."

Jon glanced at me, his dark eyes scanning my face. "You all right?"

I nodded stiffly. "I'm fine."

It wasn't entirely a lie. The pull in my chest was stronger now, so much so that it felt like I was being dragged toward something. My fire stirred in response, warming me from the inside out, but it wasn't comforting—it was volatile, hungry, as if it were feeding on the darkness around us.

The whispers began as we rounded a bend. At first, they were faint, indistinct, like the wind moving through cracks in the stone. But as we moved deeper, they grew louder, and I realized they weren't just random sounds.

They were voices.

"Katrina…"

The sound of my name sent a shiver down my spine. It was unmistakable, as clear as if someone had whispered it in my ear. I froze, my heart pounding as I scanned the darkness.

"You hear it too, don't you?" Reynolds asked, stopping ahead of me. His golden eyes glinted in the faint light.

I swallowed hard, nodding. "It's… him."

Jon stepped closer, his hand brushing mine. The brief contact grounded me, even as the whispers grew louder, more insistent.

"You cannot fight this."

"You were made for this."

"Come to us."

The voices seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, weaving into a dissonant chorus that made my head pound. I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to take another step forward.

"We need to keep moving," I said, my voice sharper than I intended.

Jon nodded, his hand resting on Longclaw's hilt. "Stay close."

As we pressed on, the whispers began to change, growing more personal, more sinister.

"You abandoned us."

"You let them die."

"This is your fault."

Each word struck like a physical blow, dredging up memories I'd buried long ago: the faces of my mother and siblings, the burning homes, the screams. The shadows on the walls twisted into those faces, their hollow eyes accusing, their mouths open in silent screams.

I stopped, my legs refusing to move as my chest tightened. "This place… it's trying to get inside my head."

"It's not real," Jon said, his voice cutting through the fog. He stepped in front of me, his dark eyes steady. "They're just shadows. They can't hurt you."

"They don't have to," I muttered. "They just have to make me believe they can."

"Katrina, look at me," Jon said, his tone firm. "You're stronger than this."

I met his gaze, his calm steadiness pulling me back from the edge. The whispers didn't stop, but they faded slightly, as if the shadows themselves were retreating.

Reynolds turned back to us, his face pale. "We're almost there."

"Almost where?" I asked, my voice hard.

"The source," he said simply.

We rounded another bend, and the passage opened into a massive cavern. My breath caught as I took in the sight before me. The walls were covered in runes, glowing faintly with an eerie light. At the center of the cavern was an altar, carved from black stone and surrounded by swirling shadows that moved like living things.

"This is it," Reynolds said, his voice barely audible.

The pull in my chest was almost unbearable now, and my fire flared in response. I stumbled, clutching at my chest as heat radiated through me.

"Katrina!" Jon was at my side instantly, his arm steadying me.

"I'm fine," I said through gritted teeth. "It's just… overwhelming."

The shadows around the altar shifted, and the whispers returned, louder and clearer than ever.

"Come to us."

"Complete the circle."

"You cannot resist."

Reynolds stepped toward the altar, but I grabbed his arm. "Wait. We don't know what this will do."

"We have to find out," he said, his voice shaking. "It's the only way to stop it."

I hesitated, my heart pounding as the shadows seemed to reach toward me, drawn to the fire within. I glanced at Jon, his dark eyes locked on mine.

"We do this together," he said, his voice steady.

I nodded, tightening my grip on my spear as I stepped toward the altar. The fire in my chest burned hotter, and the shadows recoiled slightly as I approached. But they didn't retreat—they were waiting, watching.

As I reached the altar, the whispers grew deafening, and the pull became too strong to resist. My fire surged, spilling out in flickers of golden light as the shadows began to swirl faster.

"Katrina!" Jon's voice was distant, as if coming from far away.

I placed my hand on the altar, and everything went dark.

Katrina's POV

The first thing I felt was cold—the kind that seeped into your bones and refused to let go. My chest felt heavy, my limbs weak, as though I'd been fighting an invisible battle for hours. Then came the sound of voices, low and urgent, cutting through the fog in my mind.

"Katrina?" Jon's voice, sharp and steady, pulled me further into consciousness. "Katrina, wake up."

My eyes fluttered open, the dim light of the cavern stinging them as I blinked away the haze. Above me, Jon and Reynolds hovered, their faces pale and filled with concern. Jon's dark eyes scanned mine, his hand resting on my shoulder as if grounding me. Reynolds knelt beside him, his expression a mix of fear and relief.

"What… what happened?" My voice came out hoarse, barely a whisper.

Jon let out a breath he seemed to have been holding. "You were screaming. Thrashing. We couldn't stop you. Then… you just went silent."

I blinked, trying to process his words. My head throbbed, and my memories were a blur. The last thing I remembered was placing my hand on the altar. After that, there was… nothing. "I don't remember."

Reynolds glanced at Jon, his golden eyes wide. "Your fire—it was out of control. It lit up the entire cavern. The shadows… they were attacking you. We tried to pull you away, but it was like you were stuck to the altar."

I shivered, the heaviness in my chest making it hard to breathe. "Did I… hurt anyone?"

Jon shook his head. "No. The fire didn't touch us. It seemed like it was only fighting the shadows. But then you collapsed."

He brushed a strand of hair from my face, his touch surprisingly tender. "You scared me, Katrina. I thought we'd lost you."

His words hit me harder than I expected. Jon wasn't the type to show fear easily, and seeing it etched into his features now made my heart twist. "I'm sorry," I whispered, guilt bubbling up despite not knowing what I'd done wrong.

"Don't," Jon said firmly. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

I tried to sit up, but my body protested, trembling with the effort. Jon immediately moved to steady me, his arm slipping behind my back. "Easy," he murmured. "You're still weak."

The closeness of him, the warmth of his hand on my back, was comforting in a way I hadn't expected. I looked up at him, his face only inches from mine, and for the first time, I saw something beyond worry in his eyes. Relief. Care. Something deeper.

"I was so scared," he said quietly, his voice breaking slightly. "I thought I'd never get to see you open your eyes again."

Before I could respond, before I could even process what was happening, Jon leaned down and kissed me. His lips were warm and steady, grounding me in a way words never could. My heart pounded, not from fear or fire, but from something else entirely.

When he pulled back, his dark eyes searched mine. "You're not allowed to scare me like that again."

I blinked up at him, too stunned to speak for a moment. Then I managed a small, shaky smile. "No promises, Snow."

Reynolds cleared his throat awkwardly, breaking the moment. "Not to interrupt, but… we're still in the middle of a shadow-filled cave."

Jon sat back, his expression softening as he helped me fully sit up. "He's right. We need to get out of here."

I nodded, though my body still felt like it was made of lead. "Did anything happen? With the altar?"

Reynolds hesitated, exchanging a glance with Jon. "The shadows… they disappeared when you collapsed. It's quiet now, but that doesn't mean it's over."

I looked at the altar, its black stone now cold and lifeless. The whispers were gone, but the memory of them lingered, faint and haunting. "It's never over," I muttered.

Jon helped me to my feet, his arm steady around my waist as I swayed. "Let's get out of here. We'll figure out what happened once we're safe."

Safe. The word felt hollow in this place, but I didn't argue. As we made our way back through the dark tunnel, the silence pressed in around us, heavy and suffocating. I leaned on Jon, my body weak but my mind racing.

I didn't remember what had happened, but I knew one thing for certain: whatever had been unleashed in that cavern wasn't gone. It was waiting. And it wasn't finished with me yet.

The snow crunched softly beneath our boots as we made our way back toward the Wall, the cavern a haunting memory behind us. Ghost trotted ahead, his white form nearly invisible against the frozen landscape, while Dream perched on my shoulder, her warmth a small comfort in the biting cold. Jon walked beside me, his gaze scanning the horizon, ever watchful.

Reynolds lagged slightly behind, his golden eyes distant, lost in thought. He hadn't said much since we left the cave, but I could feel the weight of whatever he was holding back.

Finally, I broke the silence, my voice sharper than I intended. "You've been quiet."

Reynolds looked up, startled, before his expression turned sheepish. "Sorry. Just… thinking."

"About what?" Jon asked, his tone neutral but probing.

Reynolds hesitated, his golden eyes flicking between us. "About everything. The shadows, the cave… and us."

"Us?" I raised an eyebrow.

He exhaled heavily, running a hand through his dark hair. "You and me, Katrina. I've spent my whole life thinking I was alone. That I didn't have anyone who understood what it was like to be… tied to him."

I frowned, my grip tightening on my spear. "You weren't alone. You had your mother."

Reynolds' jaw clenched, and he nodded slowly. "Yeah, I had her. She did everything she could to keep me safe, to keep me away from him. But it wasn't easy."

Jon's gaze softened slightly. "What happened?"

Reynolds kicked at the snow as he walked, his shoulders slumping. "We lived north of the Wall, in a small Wildling settlement. My mother never talked about my father, not until I was older. All I knew was that he was… dangerous. She said he had a darkness inside him, something that consumed everything it touched."

"Sounds about right," I muttered, my voice bitter.

Reynolds glanced at me, his expression pained. "She tried to protect me from him, but he found us. I was ten the first time he showed up."

My stomach twisted, memories of my own childhood flashing through my mind. "What did he want?"

Reynolds hesitated, his voice dropping. "Me. He wanted me to join him, to embrace the shadow. But my mother wouldn't let him take me. She fought him off, but it cost her."

"What do you mean?" Jon asked, his voice low.

Reynolds' golden eyes darkened. "She wasn't the same after that. The shadows left something behind—a sickness that ate away at her. She lasted another year before…" His voice trailed off, and he looked away, swallowing hard.

I felt a pang of guilt, my anger toward him softening. "I'm sorry."

Reynolds shook his head. "It's not your fault. After she died, I ran. I spent years moving from place to place, trying to stay ahead of him, trying to figure out what he wanted from me. And then I started hearing the stories—about you. About the fire woman."

I snorted, though there was no humor in it. "Fire woman. That's what they call me?"

Reynolds smirked faintly. "It's better than shadowspawn."

I couldn't help but laugh, the sound surprising me. "Fair enough."

Jon looked between us, his expression thoughtful. "Your father never mentioned you, Reynolds. Not once."

Reynolds shrugged, though there was bitterness in the gesture. "I'm not surprised. He only cared about me when he thought he could use me. When I refused, I became irrelevant."

I glanced at Jon, my chest tightening. "He didn't mention him to me either. Not once. I didn't even know I had a brother."

Reynolds frowned, his golden eyes searching mine. "And I didn't know I had a sister until I started digging into his past. When I found out about you, I didn't believe it at first. But the more I learned, the more I realized… you were like me."

"We're nothing like him," I said sharply, my voice trembling. "Whatever he put in us, whatever he tried to make us… we're not him."

Reynolds nodded, his expression serious. "I know. But that doesn't mean we're free of him. The fire and the shadow—they're still inside us, Katrina. And we have to figure out how to stop them before they destroy us."

I didn't respond immediately, my gaze fixed on the horizon. The weight of his words pressed heavily on me, but they weren't wrong. The fire inside me had always been both a gift and a curse, and I was only now beginning to understand how deep its roots ran.

Jon placed a hand on my shoulder, his voice steady. "We'll figure it out. Together."

Reynolds hesitated, then nodded. "Together."

The word felt foreign on his tongue, but I could see the flicker of hope in his eyes. For the first time, he wasn't running alone.

As we walked, the silence between us wasn't heavy or awkward—it was a quiet understanding, a shared resolve. For better or worse, we were tied together now, bound by the fire and the shadow that our father had left behind.

And for the first time, I didn't feel entirely alone.