The ruined chapel smelled of moss, wax, and old ash — like something holy had been buried and forgotten.
Richard took an instinctive step back as the three cloaked figures emerged from behind the altar, their silhouettes wavering in the flickering candlelight.
Elias didn't move. He stood calmly between them and Richard, hands loose at his sides, as if this moment had happened before.
> "You don't need to be afraid," Elias said.
"If we wanted to hurt you, we wouldn't have sent an invitation."
"That's not comforting," Richard muttered, his hand subconsciously moving to the hilt of the small practice sword he'd hidden beneath his cloak.
One of the hooded figures chuckled — the sound dry and brittle, like parchment cracking in the cold.
"You see?" the figure said. "He's got the instinct."
Another voice, this one gentler and distinctly female, added, "The fire in him is awake. You've felt it too, haven't you?"
Richard's breath caught.
The dreams. The glowing bird. The way the mark on the book had pulsed when he touched it.
"I don't know what I'm feeling," Richard admitted, frustrated. "No one's telling me anything."
Elias finally turned toward him. "Then listen. And listen well."
He motioned for Richard to sit. Reluctantly, Richard lowered himself onto the ancient stone pew, the wood creaking beneath his weight. Elias stepped forward into the center of the room.
"You've been told you're special," he said. "Chosen. A descendant of heroes. That's not a lie — but it's not the full truth either."
"Then tell me the full truth," Richard demanded.
Elias nodded once. "Very well."
---
The Old Flame
"The story begins not with kings," Elias said, "but with fire."
He gestured toward the cracked stained-glass window behind the altar — what was once an image of a blazing sun now dulled and fractured.
"Thousands of years ago, the gods gave light to mortals. Divine fire — pure creation. But it wasn't a gift. It was a burden. One man took it upon himself to wield that fire. He became a savior. Then a conqueror. Then a curse."
Richard's mouth went dry.
"You're saying that man is… my ancestor?"
"No," Elias said. "I'm saying that fire never died. It passed through bloodlines. Dormant. Waiting."
He stepped closer. "And now, it's waking in you."
---
The Circle
One of the cloaked figures raised a hand, and a circle of runes ignited in pale gold around them, etched into the dusty floor of the chapel. The light was soft, but it pulsed in rhythm with Richard's heartbeat.
"W-what is that?" he asked.
"A warding circle," the female voice explained. "It keeps ears out. And it lets us show you things… safely."
Elias turned toward him again. "We are part of an order called The Lumen Dissent. We were formed when the crown began weaponizing people like you. Quietly. Secretly. They train you to be heroes. Champions. But only if you bend the knee. Only if you become what they tell you to be."
Richard frowned. "Lucas said he wanted to protect me."
Elias tilted his head. "Lucas is a good man. But he's still a prince. Still part of the machine. He doesn't know how deep the rot goes."
One of the figures reached into her cloak and withdrew a small crystalline shard. She held it out to Richard.
> "Touch it," she said. "If you're truly marked by the flame, it'll react."
Richard hesitated.
Everything in him screamed that this was a turning point. That once he touched it, there'd be no going back.
But something stronger — that heat again, deep inside — pushed him forward.
He placed his fingers against the shard.
It flared.
Not golden — but white-hot, almost blinding. Wind erupted through the chapel, scattering dust and cracking one of the stone tiles.
Everyone shielded their eyes.
When the light faded, Richard was on one knee, breathing hard, the shard glowing faintly at his feet.
The woman's voice trembled, reverent: "It's true. He carries the sovereign flame."
---
What Comes Next
"No more games," Richard said, rising slowly. "What does this mean? What do you want from me?"
Elias looked at him with something between admiration and sorrow.
"It means you have a choice."
"A choice?"
"To serve the kingdom… or to survive it."
Richard stared at the circle in the dust. The glowing shard. The cracked window. His reflection in the candlelight looked like a stranger.
"You think they'll use me."
"We know they will," Elias said. "Just like they did the others. Just like they did with the last one who burned."
"Who was that?"
Elias hesitated.
Then answered: "Your brother."
"Your brother."
The words hit harder than any blade.
Richard's breath caught in his throat. "That's impossible," he whispered. "I never had a brother. My father—he never…"
Elias looked away.
"That's what you were told."
The air in the chapel grew heavier. The candlelight no longer felt warm — it flickered, uncertain, like it too was afraid of what would be said next.
"His name was Marcus," Elias said quietly. "He was taken before you were born. Raised in a training fortress under the old royal guard. No birth records. No family. Just a weapon forged in secret."
Richard stared at him, heart thundering in his chest. "And what happened to him?"
"He burned."
The words were final. Cold.
"No one ever told me," Richard said, voice cracking. "Not my father. Not my mother. Not even—"
He stopped. Of course.
Maria. She used to look at him sometimes like she knew something he didn't.
Like she was mourning someone who was still breathing.
---
The hooded woman spoke again, her voice gentler now. "They wiped him from the records. They thought he was the last. But the flame runs deep in your bloodline. Marcus wasn't strong enough to control it. But you…"
"I don't want this," Richard muttered, stepping back. "I didn't ask for this."
"No one ever does," Elias said, stepping into his path. "But you were born into it. Like a match born beside dry kindling. Sooner or later, someone's going to strike it."
---
Truth Cuts Deeper Than Steel
Richard sat back down on the cold stone bench, burying his face in his hands. His mind was a storm of broken images: Marcus, whoever he was, burning from the inside out; the golden fire surging from Richard's hands in the vision; Maria, crying behind the wellhouse the day her mother died.
"Why are you telling me all this now?" he asked, voice barely a whisper.
"Because you're running out of time," Elias replied.
"The palace will use your training to bind you," another cloaked figure said. "The rituals, the promises, the blood-oaths — they're not just tradition. They're control."
"They'll twist you," the woman added. "Make you a blade to be drawn and discarded."
"And what are you offering?" Richard looked up sharply. "You want me to run? To betray Lucas? He's trusted me."
"No," Elias said firmly. "We want you to survive. We want you to choose. Not for the crown. Not for us. For yourself."
He held out a small stone disc, etched with a flame surrounded by three circles — the mark of the Lumen Dissent.
"If you ever feel the leash tighten too much… break this. We'll find you."
Richard didn't take it.
Not yet.
---
Echoes of Ash
On the walk back to the main courtyard, Richard kept to the shadows. Every torch he passed made his skin prickle. Every footstep felt louder than it should have.
He didn't sleep.
He sat on his bed, eyes wide, staring at the fire in the hearth like it would leap out and devour him.
> Marcus…
His name echoed in Richard's head like a bell underwater.
What kind of brother was raised to be erased?
What kind of kingdom needed to silence its heroes?
---
The Next Morning
Lucas greeted him with a warm smile and a clasp on the shoulder. "You're making progress. I can see it."
Richard nodded, keeping his face straight.
They trained again. Sparred in front of the others. Lucas offered pointers. Encouragement.
But something had changed.
Richard could no longer see the man without remembering Elias's words: Still part of the machine.
That afternoon, during a break, Richard spotted Maria training across the courtyard — her bow steady, her arrows hitting the target with precision.
She looked stronger. Sharper.
But when she saw him watching, her smile faltered.
For the first time, Richard wondered what secrets she was keeping.
---
A Glimpse of Fire
Later that day, during combat drills, Richard lost control.
He was dueling a seasoned knight — one of Lucas's personal guards — when something cracked inside him. He ducked, turned, and raised his hand instinctively.
A burst of golden light exploded from his palm, knocking the knight across the field.
The others froze.
So did Richard.
The knight groaned, stunned but alive. Lucas rushed to him. Trainers ran forward.
Richard stood there, trembling, his hand still glowing faintly.
Someone whispered: "The Flameborn…"
Lucas turned toward him, eyes wide — and filled with something unfamiliar.
Not fear.
But calculation.
---
That Night
A letter arrived under his door.
No seal. No signature.
> We saw what happened.
The palace will come for you sooner than we thought.
Choose your next words carefully.
They're watching now.
Richard stared at the letter until the candle burned out.
Then he pulled the stone disc from his pocket.
And held it tight.