The fire came too fast.
It roared from the trees like a living thing, rushing toward Aria in a wall of heat and smoke. Her heart pounded. She stumbled backward, raising her arms out of instinct, expecting the flames to swallow her whole.
But the pendant around her neck flared.
In a burst of golden light, the fire curved around her—splitting, turning, avoiding her entirely. Sparks danced in the air. The grass at her feet didn't burn.
The woman in the cloak took a step back, eyes wide. "Impossible," she hissed.
Aria didn't know what she was doing, but something deep inside her had woken. She could feel the flame—not as something outside of her, but as part of her. It pulsed with her breath. It waited for her command.
She held out her hand.
The mark returned—glowing bright on her palm, its lines sharp and alive. Heat rose from her skin, not painful, just… powerful.
"Stay back," Aria said. Her voice was shaking, but louder than she expected.
One of the cloaked figures rushed toward her. Aria reacted without thinking. Light exploded from her hand, a wave of force and heat that knocked the attacker off their feet and sent them flying into the trees.
Silence followed.
The others didn't move.
The woman with the scar clenched her jaw. "She's not trained. That much power, uncontrolled—she'll tear herself apart."
"I'm fine," Aria said, though her knees trembled.
"You're not," the woman replied. "But you will be. If you come with us."
"Not happening."
"You think you have a choice?"
Aria took a deep breath. Her heart was still racing, but the flame inside her was steady now, like a lantern held against the dark. "I do. And I'm choosing *no*."
The woman looked like she might attack again—but then she nodded to the others. "Fall back."
"What?" one of the rogues muttered. "She's—"
"She's marked," the woman snapped. "And if she burns, we burn with her."
They vanished into the woods as quietly as they had come. Aria stood there, alone, her hand still glowing.
Only when she was sure they were gone did she let herself drop to her knees.
---
It was almost morning when Aria finally moved again. She sat by a small stream, washing ash from her face and arms, her body aching with exhaustion.
She kept looking at her palm. The mark had faded once more, but the feeling hadn't. The power was still there, just beneath the surface.
The pendant hung against her chest, warm and silent.
She didn't sleep. Couldn't. Her dreams felt too close now, too real. She needed to keep going.
By midday, she reached the base of the mountain marked on Marlow's map. It rose high into the clouds—steep, jagged, and cold. The trail ahead was narrow and broken, but it was the only path forward.
She climbed.
Step after step, her legs burned. Her fingers turned red from gripping cold stone. Snow began to fall—not gently, but sharp, stinging flakes that bit at her cheeks and lashes.
Still, she climbed.
By late afternoon, the trail opened into a plateau. There, carved into the rock face, was a door. Not wooden or metal—stone, seamless except for a circle in the center, about the size of a hand.
She reached out.
The moment her palm touched it, the mark reappeared. The stone glowed. The door slid open.
Inside was a long hallway, walls lined with torches that lit themselves as she passed.
She was no longer outside.
She had entered the Trial.
---
The hallway led to a wide chamber, empty except for a platform in the center. Carvings lined the walls—scenes of people standing in fire, hands raised to the sky, eyes glowing with light.
A voice echoed through the room. Not the one from her dreams—this one was sharper, more commanding.
"The fire tests not your strength. It tests your will."
The door closed behind her.
Flames erupted around the platform, circling it. Then—from the shadows—emerged three figures.
They looked like people, but their skin flickered like coal, and their eyes glowed orange.
The first raised a hand. Fire leapt toward Aria.
She didn't run.
She focused. The flame inside her responded.
The fire slowed—hesitated—then split around her like before.
The second figure rushed forward. Aria dodged left, then lifted her hand. A blast of light struck the figure and it vanished like smoke.
The third circled her slowly. "You carry the flame," it said. "But do you *understand* it?"
"I don't have to understand it," she said. "I *am* it."
She raised both hands. Light and fire burst outward in a ring. The figure dissolved, the room fell quiet.
The flames around the platform died.
Then, the stone shifted again. Another door opened.
Aria stood in silence, breathing hard.
One trial down.
How many more to go?
She stepped into the dark.