Chapter 3: The Firepath
The trail Maeryn spoke of was little more than a memory, winding like smoke through the twisted trees of the Ashenwood. It led north, toward the mountains that marked the edge of all Kael had ever known.
He moved cautiously, eyes wide for signs of the riders. Every crow's caw and crack of branch made his heart race, but none came. The forest, for now, let him pass.
After a day of travel, he reached the Firepath.
It was not named for fire itself, but for what fire had taken. Charred stumps lined the way like broken teeth. A long-dead blaze had scoured the land here, leaving only black soil and skeletal trees. But even in ruin, the Ember had left its mark: faint glows shimmered beneath the earth, like embers buried deep and dreaming.
Kael knelt, touching the ground. The shard at his neck pulsed once, as if in greeting. A whisper brushed his mind:
"This is where the Kindled fell."
He stood quickly, unsure if the voice was his own.
As the path narrowed into a canyon of scorched stone, Kael spotted a small stone shrine built into the rock. Its carvings were ancient—depicting fire spirals, dragon wings, and a crowned figure holding a torch to the sky.
Below it, a message, half-buried by ash:
"When the flame returns, so too shall the light."
Kael touched the words, and the shrine flared to life. A ghostly projection, like smoke shaped into memory, rose before him.
A woman stood there, tall and regal, her hair braided with flame. Her voice was distant thunder:
"Let this be the path of the Emberbearer. Let no shadow pass this way unchallenged. Let no fire burn here unjustly."
The vision faded.
Kael stood silently. The pendant at his neck had grown warm again, its runes glowing faintly.
The Firepath was not just a way forward. It was a trial.
And as dusk fell and the cold crept in, Kael walked on, unaware that far behind him, the Ashen Riders had found his tracks.
And they were not alone.