The wind carried the scent of smoke and steel.
Kael knew he was being hunted.
He and Cinder had fled deeper into the Wildergrove, past where even the birds dared not sing. For days, they traveled by night and hid by day. But no matter how far they ran, the fear clung to them like shadows.
"Someone burned Ember Hollow to find you," Kael whispered to Cinder one night, crouched under a canopy of moss-draped trees. "What if they find us next?"
Cinder chirped softly, his glowing red eyes scanning the dark. He was bigger now—already the size of a large dog. His wings had grown stronger. His fire is hotter.
But Kael? He was still just a boy with a secret.
And the world had noticed.
Elsewhere… not far enough away
Through the trees, iron boots crushed leaves. A pale man with sunken eyes crouched over a burned-out campfire, sniffing the ash.
The mark on his wrist—a jagged black scar that pulsed like a wound—glowed faintly.
"He was here," Arik Thorne muttered. His voice was like ice cracking. "I can smell the fear. The bond. The fire."
Behind him, two cloaked soldiers held their breath. They dared not speak.
This man—man, this Ashborn—wasn't one of them. He wasn't even fully human anymore.
He was a broken rider.
A dragon killer.
"The boy has awakened the bond," Arik said. "And we all know what happens next…"
His teeth flashed in a smile far too wide.
"Another Rider rises. And another head must fall."
Back in the forest
Kael awoke with a jolt.
Not because of a sound. But because of a feeling. A tremor in his bond with Cinder, like a string pulled too tight. He sat up, eyes scanning the darkness.
The forest was too quiet.
Cinder stirred beside him, eyes narrowed.
Danger, Kael felt. Not in words—but in fire.
He stood and reached for his pack—
An arrow struck the tree beside his head.
He didn't think—he ran. Cinder launched into the air beside him, flaming a path through the brush.
Shapes moved between the trees—shadowed, fast, trained.
Soldiers. And something worse.
"Split up!" a voice barked from the dark.
Kael darted through a narrow ravine, ducking branches and scraping his arms on bark and stone. But no matter how fast he moved, something followed.
And then he heard it.
Breathing.
Not an animal. Not human.
Something's wrong.
A figure stepped out of the mist.
Tall. Cloaked. Eyes glowing with black flame.
Arik Thorne.
"There you are," he said calmly. "The last little spark."
Cinder landed between them, wings flared, growling.
Arik smiled. "Hello, hatchling. I knew your kind once. Fed them. Burned them. Buried them."
Kael raised his hand, the Rider's Mark glowing.
"Stay back!"
But Arik only stepped closer. "Do you even know what that mark means, boy? It's not power. It's a death sentence."
He raised his hand, and from it, a twisted black fire licked the air.
Cinder lunged.
Flames met flames.
Kael screamed as fire exploded between them, but through the chaos, something happened:
His mark burned hotter than ever before. He felt Cinder's rage, his pain, and his strength—not like watching it from the outside, but like it was his own body.
He moved without thinking.
One step. One thought. One blast of pure, radiant red flame.
Arik was thrown back.
Trees cracked. The earth shook. Cinder collapsed, exhausted but alive.
Kael stood over his dragon, chest heaving.
The shadows were gone. The soldiers had retreated.
But Arik... was still smiling, even as smoke curled from his burned cloak.
"You're stronger than I thought," he whispered. "Good. It'll be more fun to break you later."
Then he vanished into the mist, like a ghost.
⚠️ Chapter End:
Kael had survived his first battle. But now the Ashborn knew his name. And war was no longer a rumor. It had already begun.
Next Chapter: "The Whisper in the Flame"