They moved like ghosts—six figures cloaked in gray, faces hidden beneath masks of bone. Silent. Swift. Deadly.
Aaron stood with the child behind him, heart hammering in his chest. Kain, already in motion, swept forward like a shadow, blade singing as it met the first attacker with a burst of sparks.
But it was six against two.
And one of them didn't know how to fight.
"Keep the child behind you!" Kain shouted, parrying a curved dagger aimed at Aaron's ribs.
Aaron clenched his fists, unsure of what to do. He could feel it again—the warmth beneath his skin. The flicker of fire clawing to be released.
But Frankfurt had warned him:
> Do not use the flame. Not yet.
The child grabbed his sleeve suddenly. "They… want the spark," they whispered, voice barely audible. "They smell it. In me. In you."
Aaron looked down. "What are you?"
The child blinked slowly. "We're… the same."
---
Across the plaza, one of the attackers chanted a single word in a language Aaron didn't understand. A circle of glowing thorns materialized midair—projectiles of red energy launched toward them.
Aaron instinctively raised his arm—and the air between him and the spell ignited, forming a dome of pale-blue flame that absorbed the impact.
He stared at his hand, trembling. "I didn't mean to do that."
The child looked up at him with wide eyes. "The spark… is waking."
---
🔥 The Child's Power: Ash Memory
At that moment, the child stepped forward—just one foot—and whispered something in a tongue that echoed like dust falling through silence.
Suddenly, the ash on the ground rose, swirling like smoke around their body. Out of it, images formed—reflections of the recent past: the six attackers, their movements, where they'd stepped, where they would strike next.
"Watch them," the child said. "The ash remembers."
Aaron looked into the ash-shapes—ghostly echoes of the attackers' motions, playing out a few seconds in advance like premonitions.
He saw a blade aimed at Kain's blind side.
"Behind you!" Aaron called.
Kain turned just in time, slicing the attacker's leg clean through. "Useful," he muttered.
---
🩸 Introducing the Enemy: The Pale Thorn
One of the cloaked figures removed their mask, revealing a face lined with ritual scars—eyes black, not from magic, but from centuries of devotion to something ancient.
"You do not understand what you carry," he hissed to Aaron. "That flame is a disease. We are its cure."
Aaron stepped forward, shielding the child again. "Who are you?"
"We are The Pale Thorn," he said proudly. "The world bled the last time your kind ruled. We buried your ancestors once. We'll do it again."
Aaron raised his palm. "Try it."
The man charged—but he didn't get far.
Aaron didn't just summon the flame this time. He unleashed it.
A column of blue fire exploded from his hand, spiraling in the air like a serpent. It didn't burn the buildings. It didn't touch the child. It moved with intent—as if it were alive.
It struck the attacker in the chest and knocked him backwards into a wall, unconscious but breathing.
Aaron staggered back, panting. "That… shouldn't have worked."
The remaining attackers retreated into the shadows without another word—leaving only their fallen behind.
---
Kain approached slowly, wiping blood from his blade. "Well. That was reckless."
Aaron turned to the child, who was still watching the flames curl between his fingers.
"You said we're the same," he asked. "What's your name?"
The child blinked. "I was never given one."
Aaron looked at Kain, who gave a shrug. "Name them, then."
He knelt and placed a hand on the child's shoulder. "Then from now on… your name is Ashen."
---
🌑 At a Glance:
Aaron's power (Sky Flame): Now partially awakened; instinctive and protective.
Ashen's power (Ash Memory): Ability to draw echoes of the past from burned ground, useful for vision and combat prediction.
The Pale Thorn: A secretive, religious-like order that views the Lineborn as abominations who must be eradicated. They're well-organized and have ancient knowledge, but fear the true awakening.