The figure pulled back their hood.
Underneath was a man with pale silver hair and deep-set eyes that gleamed with cruel intelligence. His face was marked with faint rune scars—Arcane Hunter marks. But Elira didn't need the signs.
She remembered his face from the night flames swallowed her childhood.
"You were there…" she said, her voice low, barely containing the surge inside her chest. "You watched it burn. You stood there while they screamed."
The man tilted his head. "I did more than watch. I orchestrated it. Your parents were traitors to the Arcane Order. Their execution was necessary."
Dante stepped forward, blade glowing with dark energy. "One more word, and I'll slice your tongue out."
Elira raised a hand, stopping him.
No. This was hers.
Her gauntlet glowed with a dangerous intensity, flame roaring to life as her heartbeat quickened. The memories came flooding back — her father's voice, the warmth of her mother's embrace, the blaze that devoured it all.
She took a step forward. The heat around her spiked.
"You wanted to erase the Ember Line," she said. "But here I am. Stronger. Burning brighter than ever. And I remember everything."
The man sneered, unfazed. "Then you'll die remembering."
In a flash, he launched a rune blast toward her. Dante was already in motion, blade intercepting mid-air with a crack of energy. Elira didn't move. She let the fire rise.
Her eyes blazed blue.
"You burned my home," she growled. "Now feel what it's like to face the flame."
She thrust her gauntlet forward. A torrent of fire exploded from her palm, more controlled than ever before — not wild like when she was younger. Focused. Furious. Free.
The hunter vanished in a blink—teleportation glyph—but not fast enough to escape the searing edge of her flames.
He screamed, the sound echoing through the ruined market.
Elira stood still, fire dancing in her hair.
This was just the beginning.
The flame had not forgotten.
The flame was awakening.