Chapter Five
By dawn, the sky bled rust over the village.
Not rain. Not sun.
A crimson haze, as if the very heavens remembered a long-forgotten wound and had reopened it.
Villagers emerged from their homes with faces half-painted in ash and fear. The Lantern Tree no longer wept golden sap—it bled. Its roots throbbed visibly, pulsing in rhythm with the strange glow that now surrounded the girl of fire.
She stood in the village square beside Amira. Silent. Barefoot. Unmoving. Her flame no longer consumed but clung to her like a shroud.
Asheron knelt at her side, his head bowed. "She remembers. I was her shield. But I could not protect her from the betrayal."
Amira watched him carefully. "You said they bound her. Why?"
"Because she was born of two realms," he whispered. "Spirit and flesh. Fire and memory. The covenant-makers feared what she might awaken if allowed to live beyond childhood. They called her The Ember That Could Unmake Death."
Elias joined them, face tight with concern. "And now she's walking the earth again. With the seals broken."
"It's not just her," Amira said, glancing toward the hills. "There are others. Spirits. Watchers. They're moving."
Indeed, strange shapes had begun appearing on the horizon—some human-like, others twisted by time and curse. Faint silhouettes, cloaked in mist and smoke, making their way toward the village.
"They remember her," Elias said.
"And they've come to see if she will destroy what once destroyed her," Asheron added gravely.
At the Circle House, the elders argued deep into the afternoon.
"She must be re-sealed," barked Elder Kure. "This is no child—this is flame made flesh. What good ever came from letting the fire roam free?"
"We cannot repeat the sins of the past," Nnenna countered.
"She's already here. That means the seals were flawed. The covenant was flawed."
Kure spat into the hearth. "Then let us make a new one. One without her."
Amira rose slowly from her seat. "No more covenants made in fear. No more prisons masked as protection. She stays."
"She brings war."
"She brings truth."
Nnenna nodded. "Then we prepare."
That night, the fire-child finally spoke to Amira again.
They sat beneath the bleeding Lantern Tree, stars flickering uncertainly above.
"I wasn't meant to survive," the girl said. "Even now, the world tilts when I walk. The dead stir when I breathe."
Amira looked at her closely. "Then maybe you were never meant to walk alone."
The child tilted her head. "You're not afraid?"
"I am. But I've been afraid before. I've lost, I've loved, I've buried friends and held ghosts in my hands. You're not a curse. You're a memory that refused to be erased."
A soft sound escaped the girl—somewhere between a sigh and a song.
"Then walk with me, Keeper. Because they're coming."
Amira stiffened. "Who?"
The fire-child looked toward the west, her eyes glowing gold.
"The Bone-Faced Ones. The old guardians of the First Seal. They want to take me back."
A howl pierced the forest edge.
Not a beast.
Not quite human.
Something between.
Elias ran up the path. "Amira. You need to see this."
They climbed the ridge above the village.
Across the valley, torches flickered in the hands of approaching figures.
Dozens.
Then hundreds.
Some rode beasts shaped of bark and bone.
Others wore faces of wood and skull, carved with ancient runes.
The Bone-Faced Ones had returned.
And at their head marched a priestess draped in white flames—her mouth sewn shut, her eyes glowing like suns. In her hands, she carried a broken clay mask.
Asheron whispered in horror, "That's the High Sealer. The one who began it all."
The priestess raised the mask.
And the fire-child, below, screamed—not in fear, but recognition.