Chapter 6 – Heroes in Hiding
By Victor Simdrix
The night after her Trial, Nyra wandered the edge of Emberfall's forest, cloak pulled tight, every step heavy with exhaustion. The villagers had not celebrated her survival. Instead, they scattered whispers like poison: She bent the fire. She is bound to the Wraith. She will betray us all.
It didn't matter that she had walked through flame unharmed. It didn't matter that she had begged for control. To them, she was not proof of hope but proof of their darkest fears.
Kaelith had urged her to slip away, but she could not yet bring herself to flee. Leaving meant accepting exile. Staying meant suffocating under their hatred. And so she walked alone, waiting for dawn to show her which road remained.
That was when she felt it—the prickle of being watched.
Nyra spun, flames flickering at her fingertips. "Who's there?"
Silence.
Then a man stepped from the shadows of the ash trees, tall and broad-shouldered, a greatsword strapped across his back. His hair was the color of rusted copper, his jaw set in determination. He lifted his hands in peace.
"Easy," he said. "If we meant you harm, you'd already be bound."
"We?" Nyra asked sharply.
Another figure emerged beside him—a woman clad in leather armor patched from countless battles, her golden-brown eyes bright and fierce. A faint scar cut across her cheek, but her smile was disarmingly warm.
The man bowed slightly. "Aric Dawnshield. Once a knight of Stormspire… until I refused to follow a corrupt king."
"And I," the woman said, resting a hand on her dagger, "am Selwyn Emberhart. My family swore to guard the Ember. Malakar slaughtered them when I was twelve. I've been hunting his shadow ever since."
The names struck Nyra like sparks in dry grass—legends whispered even in Emberfall's taverns. Aric, the knight who vanished after defying a royal decree. Selwyn, the flame-born wanderer who survived the Hollow Flame's purge. And now they stood before her as flesh and blood.
Nyra's voice wavered. "Why are you here?"
Aric's gaze softened. "Because you survived the Trial. That means the Ember chose you. And if the Ember chose you, then Malakar will hunt you until the end of days."
Selwyn stepped closer, her tone steady. "You don't know it yet, Nyra Veylock, but you are at the center of a war. The Ash Wraith's chains are weakening. Malakar means to break them, and when he does, this world will burn. Unless someone stands against him."
Nyra shook her head, panic rising. "I can't even control myself. You saw what happened in the square. They were right—I am dangerous."
Selwyn's hand landed on her shoulder, firm but gentle. "Dangerous, yes. But dangerous is exactly what the world needs. Do you think heroes are born perfect? No. They are broken, cursed, outcast—just like you. And they rise because they must."
Aric nodded grimly. "We've been waiting for a spark. Maybe you are it."
Nyra's Ember pulsed in her chest, burning with a heat that was not fear, not anger—something new. Possibility.
But before she could answer, a sound tore through the night: the distant toll of bells, frantic and sharp. Emberfall's alarm.
Aric drew his sword. "Wraithkin," he muttered. "Malakar's servants are already here."
Selwyn's eyes met Nyra's, fierce and unyielding. "This is your choice, girl. Run from your fire—or fight with it."
And as the first screams rose from the village behind her, Nyra's hands trembled, flames licking across her skin.
She was out of time.