(Fits within Chapter Five, just before Kaelen confronts Aelis in the mountain.)
As Kaelen entered the heart of Mount Vareth, memories returned unbidden.
He recalled a night, long ago, when Aelis had set fire to their father's study.
She'd been only seven, playing with candles. The flame had danced in her palm, unnatural and wild. The servants panicked. Their father punished her harshly—lashed for a spark she couldn't control.
Afterward, Kaelen had sat with her in the stables. Her hands were bandaged, her eyes hollow.
"It wanted to talk to me," she whispered. "The flame. It spoke."
He'd brushed her hair back gently. "Then next time, don't listen."
But part of him had wondered—had feared—what it would say next.