The corridors of the Spine twisted endlessly, their walls alive with runes that pulsed faintly as if mocking Kaelen's rage. His boots struck the stone in sharp, uneven beats, the sound echoing like war drums. Lyra trailed behind, her voice urgent but quiet, as though afraid of setting him off.
"Kaelen, stop. You can't storm blindly through the Queen's halls. You'll draw the guards, or worse."
He didn't slow. His chest burned as though molten metal sloshed inside him, searing against bone and muscle. The fire didn't want to be contained. It wanted release—consumption.
"She lied to me," he spat. "All this time, I thought I was some mistake, some fluke—dragged here because fate had a cruel sense of humor. But no, she chose this. She tore me out of my life."
Lyra's hand caught his wrist. "Kaelen, listen—"
He wrenched free, heat flaring across his skin, the air around them shimmering. The braziers lining the corridor flared in response, tongues of fire dancing violently, as if drawn to his fury.
"Don't touch me," he warned, his voice rough. "I can't hold it back."
For a heartbeat, silence stretched. Lyra's eyes softened, though her jaw remained firm. "That's exactly why you need me to. You can't master fire by drowning in anger. It feeds on it. You'll burn yourself before anyone else gets the chance."
Kaelen wanted to scream, to rail against her calmness, but he couldn't. His chest heaved, fire racing through every vein, until it felt like he might burst. He stumbled, gripping the wall, his knuckles scorching the stone black.
"Kaelen—"
A crack split the floor beneath him. Flames erupted in a jagged line, racing outward, curling around the runes etched into the wall. The ancient markings blazed in sudden response, awakening something deep within the Spine.
And then the fire answered back.
Kaelen collapsed to his knees as searing light flooded his vision. The world dissolved into a storm of flame and shadow.
---
When his sight cleared, he wasn't in the Spine anymore.
He stood in a burning field that stretched forever, the sky overhead crimson and torn by lightning. Figures writhed in the fire, shapes that looked almost human but melted into ash the moment he tried to focus on them.
The realm of flame, a voice whispered, low and resonant. The birthplace of your power.
Kaelen spun. A figure emerged from the inferno—towering, horned, cloaked in flame. Its face was shifting, always changing, like a reflection in rippling water.
"Who the hell are you?" Kaelen demanded.
The being laughed, the sound cracking the earth. Names matter little. I am the fire that fills you, the echo of a bargain not yet paid. You were forged for this, mortal. A vessel carved to bear me.
Kaelen's blood ran cold despite the heat. "Forged? You mean… I'm not even myself anymore?"
You are yourself, the being said. But more. And less. When Seraphina tore you from your world, she did not summon only a man. She summoned me. I sleep inside you, waiting for the moment the vessel breaks.
The ground split, fire roaring up like a tidal wave. Kaelen stumbled back. "No—I'm not your puppet. I'm not your damn weapon!"
The figure's molten eyes burned brighter. You think you have a choice? Either you burn for me—or the fire burns everything.
"Kaelen!"
The vision shattered.
He gasped awake on the floor of the Spine, Lyra kneeling over him, her palms pressed against his shoulders. Sweat plastered his hair to his forehead, and steam hissed from his skin.
"Stay with me," she urged. Her voice trembled now, betraying the fear she tried to mask. "Your fire was bleeding through the wards—you nearly set the whole wing ablaze."
Kaelen pushed himself upright, his hands shaking. He could still hear the voice, echoing in his skull. Burn, or be burned.
"I saw something," he rasped. "Something inside me. It… it said it's waiting. That I'm just a vessel."
Lyra's eyes darkened, but she didn't look surprised. "I feared as much. The fire is no ordinary gift. It's ancient. Dangerous. My mother believed she could bind it into you, contain it. But the more it grows, the more it will try to claim you."
His throat tightened. "So what? I'm doomed to turn into a walking bonfire and wipe out half the realm?"
Lyra's hands lingered on his arms, steadying him. "Not if we learn to master it first. Together."
Kaelen almost laughed. A bitter, broken sound. "You think you can save me from this?"
"No," she said firmly. "I think you can. I can only keep you from drowning before you learn to swim."
Her certainty struck deeper than any flame. For a moment, the fire inside him stilled, as if listening.
But then the sound of armored boots thundered down the corridor. A squad of guards rounded the bend, weapons raised, their captain shouting, "By order of the Queen, the firebearer is to be restrained!"
Kaelen's chest ignited again, instinct flaring to fight, to lash out. The sword at his back vibrated with heat, begging to be drawn.
Lyra stepped in front of him, her wings unfurling in a sudden shimmer of violet light. "Stand down!" she commanded. "He is under my protection."
The captain hesitated, sweat beading along his brow from the heat radiating off Kaelen. But his men stood ready, blades gleaming.
Kaelen's pulse pounded. The fire inside him coiled, waiting, hungry.
Burn… the voice whispered again.
Lyra turned her head just enough to meet Kaelen's eyes. "Trust me," she whispered. "Not the fire. Not the fear. Me."
For a heartbeat, Kaelen hesitated on the razor's edge. One wrong choice and he'd drown the Spine in flames. One act of trust—and maybe, just maybe, he'd prove he wasn't just a vessel.
The fire roared louder. The guards closed in.
And Kaelen made his choice.