đź“– The Ember Within
By Victor Simdrix
Chapter 28 – Ashes of the Past
The night after Seraphine's arrival was not quiet.
Nyra sat in the ruins of the market square, her palms still warm from the fire that refused to settle. Around her, Kael bound his wounds with strips of cloth, his jaw tight, his storm fading to a low crackle. Nox lingered in the shadows, tossing his dagger as though the world wasn't crumbling around them.
But Nyra's eyes were on the bells—silent now, yet heavy with their echo.
"What did she mean?" she whispered. "Emberchild… spark of the end…"
Kael glanced at her, his tone harsh but not unkind. "It means she knows more about you than you've told anyone."
Nox smirked, leaning against a broken wall. "Oh, come now, Stormborn. You say that like it's a surprise. The girl breathes fire. Did you think it was… ordinary?"
Nyra's throat tightened. "I didn't ask for this."
"No one asks for what they are," Kael muttered. "But you need to control it before it controls you."
At that, Nox laughed, sharp and cruel. "Control? She burned half the square to ash. That's not control—that's destiny." He leaned closer, his dagger glinting in the moonlight. "And destiny, little flame, rarely asks permission."
Nyra's fists clenched, the fire stirring again. She wanted to shout, to deny him, but the truth burned harder than her flames. He was right. Every time the fire came, it felt less like hers—and more like something else living inside her.
That night, she dreamed.
The dream carried her through smoke and embers, back to a forest she didn't remember but felt deep in her bones. There, a circle of silver-robed figures stood chanting, their hands raised over a cradle of flame. Inside the flame was an infant—crying, wailing, but untouched by the fire.
The child was her.
Above them, carved into the trees themselves, were the symbols of the Silver Hand.
She woke with a start, her skin glowing faintly as though the fire still curled beneath her flesh.
Kael sat nearby, watching her with weary eyes. "You screamed."
"I… I saw them. The Silver Hand." Her voice trembled. "They—they put me in the fire. I wasn't burned. I belonged to it."
Kael's expression darkened. "Then it's true. You're not cursed, Nyra. You were made."
The words hollowed her chest.
Nox stepped from the shadows, his grin sharper than ever. "Ah, the truth at last. Forged in flame, birthed by zealots. No wonder you burn so bright. You were never meant to live as anything less than a weapon."
Nyra's heart pounded. A weapon. A choice. A destiny she never asked for.
Her hands shook as she looked between them both.
"If I was made for fire… then what am I supposed to do with it?"
The night swallowed her question, but deep in the shadows, the bells seemed to answer, whispering across the city like ghosts.