The ring of steel filled the corridor. Guards fanned into a semicircle, blades gleaming, sweat dripping from their brows under Kaelen's heat. The captain barked, "By Her Majesty's command, the firebearer is to be shackled and brought before the throne. Stand aside, princess."
Lyra's wings flared wider, violet light flickering against the stone walls. Her voice rang steady, but Kaelen could feel the tension trembling in her frame. "You'll not lay chains on him. He's not a prisoner—he's the key to the prophecy."
The captain sneered. "Spare us riddles. He's a danger to every soul in this fortress. Look at the scorch-marks beneath his feet! Tell me how long until he burns us all."
Kaelen's chest heaved, fire coiling inside like a living beast. His palms trembled, sparks slipping free. The voice still hissed in his mind—burn them, prove your strength, let none command you—and gods help him, it was tempting.
But then Lyra's hand brushed his. A fleeting touch, grounding him. "Kaelen. Don't give them what they fear. You're not their monster."
Her words cut through the roar. He swallowed hard, jaw tight. "Then what the hell am I supposed to do? If I don't fight, they'll drag me in chains. If I fight, I lose myself."
"Then we'll outwit them," she murmured.
The guards advanced, shields up. "Resist, and we'll cut you down!"
Kaelen raised his hands, flame flaring instinctively. The captain shouted, "Now!"
In a blur, enchanted chains of silver shot forward, glowing with wards. They wrapped around Kaelen's wrists and chest, burning cold as they suppressed his fire. He cried out, the heat inside him thrashing, furious at being contained.
Lyra's wings snapped forward, blades of violet light striking the chains, but the wards held firm. The guards yanked Kaelen to his knees, their formation tightening like a noose.
Rage boiled in him. Not just his own—the other presence writhed, howling inside his skull. Fools! Mortals! Tear them apart—
Kaelen gritted his teeth. "Shut. Up." His vision swam red.
Lyra crouched at his side, ignoring the captain's shouts. "Listen to me. The chains bind fire, not spirit. You can still choose."
Her voice was steady, fierce, and for a heartbeat he clung to it. But the fire surged again, pushing against the shackles, cracking them with a screech of metal. The guards panicked.
"He's breaking free—!"
The corridor exploded into chaos.
Flames roared from the cracks in the chains, hurling guards backward, shields melting. Stone blistered and ran molten across the floor. Kaelen staggered upright, his body wrapped in fire that wasn't fully his own. His eyes burned gold.
"Kaelen!" Lyra's voice reached through the inferno. She shoved past the heat, pressing her hand to his chest. "You're stronger than this. Don't let it use you."
For an instant, Kaelen saw himself reflected in her gaze—not a monster, but a man fighting tooth and nail to keep control.
He seized that image, clung to it.
The fire howled, clawing at his mind. I am power, and you are mine!
"No," Kaelen snarled, his voice ragged. "You're mine."
He pulled inward, dragging the flames into himself, forcing them to bend. The chains shattered, but instead of unleashing destruction, the fire folded back, collapsing into a burning sphere in his palm. His body trembled, sweat pouring, but he held it.
The corridor fell silent, every guard frozen in shock.
Lyra whispered, awe threading her tone, "You… you contained it."
Kaelen's knees buckled, but he forced himself upright. He turned to the captain, the sphere still glowing in his hand like a miniature sun. "Tell your queen…" His voice cracked like thunder. "I'll come. But not in chains."
The captain hesitated, caught between fear and duty. Finally, he lowered his blade and signaled his men to stand down.
Kaelen released the sphere, letting it vanish into smoke. His chest felt hollow, but his will—his own will—still stood.
---
They led him to the throne room, but now as an honored danger rather than a bound criminal. Lyra walked beside him, her hand never straying far from his arm, as if to anchor him.
The throne room of the Spine was vast, its ceiling carved into twisting arches etched with constellations. Torches burned with steady blue fire, warded against Kaelen's presence. And upon the obsidian throne sat Queen Seraphina.
Her gaze pierced him the moment he entered—ancient, calculating, but faintly weary. She was as regal as ever, yet Kaelen saw it now: the faint cracks in her aura, the exhaustion hidden behind cold authority.
"You unleashed fire in my halls," Seraphina said, her voice like silk wrapped around steel. "Do you deny it?"
Kaelen's jaw clenched. "I unleashed nothing. It tried to take me, and I fought it back. Ask your guards if they'd still be breathing if I hadn't."
A murmur rippled through the chamber. Seraphina's lips curved faintly, neither smile nor frown. "So. The vessel grows teeth."
Kaelen's fists tightened. "I'm not your vessel."
The Queen rose, descending the steps of her throne with slow grace. "Oh, but you are. Fire does not choose mortals lightly. That it has not consumed you entirely proves what I suspected—you are its bearer, its prison, and perhaps…" She tilted her head, eyes narrowing. "…its master."
Kaelen met her gaze, unflinching. "And what if I decide I want nothing to do with your prophecy? With your wars?"
Seraphina stopped before him, her presence pressing like a storm. "Then the fire will decide for you."
The words hung heavy, undeniable.
Lyra stepped between them, her wings folded tight but her stance defiant. "Mother, he needs guidance, not threats. If you push him, the fire will break him—and us all."
The Queen studied her daughter, then shifted her gaze back to Kaelen. A long silence stretched before she finally said, "Very well. You will remain here, under watch. You will train. Fail to master it, and you will burn with it. Succeed…" Her eyes glinted. "…and you will change the fate of realms."
Kaelen's heart pounded. Part of him wanted to laugh, part of him wanted to scream. But instead, he simply nodded once. "Then I'll succeed. Not for you. Not for your prophecy. For me."
The Queen's expression flickered—approval, amusement, perhaps even a hint of respect. "We shall see."
That night, Kaelen sat in his chamber, staring at his hands. They still trembled faintly, as though fire lingered beneath the skin.
Lyra stood near the window, moonlight brushing her feathers. She turned, studying him quietly before saying, "Today, you did more than survive. You proved you could fight it."
He met her gaze, voice low. "For how long?"
"As long as it takes," she said softly. "And you won't face it alone."
Her words settled in him like a balm, easing the storm. For the first time, he believed he might not be just a vessel.
For the first time, he felt like he had a choice.
But somewhere deep inside, the fire still whispered, patient and waiting.
Burn…