The tide thundered against the cliffs, its rhythm echoing through the cavern. Shadows stretched long along the walls, broken only by the faint shimmer of mineral veins that caught stray beams of moonlight. Elira had just finished binding Kaelen's wound anew when the first sound reached her ears.
Footsteps. Slow. Purposeful. Coming closer.
She froze, her hands tightening around the cloth. Kaelen's head lifted, eyes narrowing toward the cave's mouth. In the dim light, his face hardened into the mask of a prince prepared for war.
"They've found us," he murmured.
The words turned her blood cold.
Before she could respond, a voice carried into the cavern—low, mocking, laced with cruel satisfaction.
"Come out, come out, little prince. Did you think the sea would keep you from us?"
Kaelen rose unsteadily to his feet, dagger flashing in his hand. His frame was taut with readiness despite the wound that pulled at him. He glanced at Elira, his expression grim. "Stay behind me."
Her jaw tightened. "Do not think to shield me from danger. I will not cower while death walks through my door."
A flicker of pride passed through his eyes—there and gone—but he gave a short nod. "Then stand ready."
The cave filled with movement. Three figures slipped from the shadows, cloaked in black, blades gleaming. Their leader, tall and gaunt, pushed back his hood, revealing a face lined with scars and eyes pale as winter frost.
"You've made this hunt far too easy, Your Highness," the man sneered. His gaze shifted to Elira. "And what's this? A healer for your final days? Sweet. She can tend your corpse when we're finished."
Something hot surged in Elira's chest, a spark that flared at the insult. She stepped closer to Kaelen, her fists clenched.
Kaelen's voice was low and dangerous. "If you think me unarmed, you are mistaken."
The man laughed. "One wounded prince and a village girl? We'll have your head for our master before the tide turns."
Steel hissed as the assassins drew their swords. The cavern's stillness shattered.
They lunged.
Kaelen met the first strike with his dagger, the clash ringing sharp through the cave. Pain twisted across his face, but his movements were practiced, honed from years of battle training. He twisted, driving his opponent back, but the second assassin closed in from the side.
"Elira!" he barked.
She had no weapon but a wooden staff she'd taken from the cave floor. Heart pounding, she swung with all her strength. The staff cracked against the attacker's arm, sending his blade skittering aside for a moment.
But the third man was faster. He slipped past Kaelen, blade raised high—aimed straight for her.
Elira's breath caught. Time slowed.
And then it happened.
Heat roared through her veins, fire flooding her chest, her arms, her very skin. The air shimmered around her, and in a burst of blinding light, flame erupted from her hands.
The assassin screamed as fire caught his cloak, searing cloth and flesh. He stumbled back, shrieking, slamming himself against the cave wall to douse the blaze.
Elira staggered, staring at her hands—smoke curling from her fingertips, embers glowing where none should be.
Kaelen's eyes widened even as he fought, disbelief flashing across his face. "Elira—!"
But there was no time for words. The gaunt leader snarled, lunging at Kaelen with renewed fury. Their blades met again and again, sparks flying in the dim cavern.
Elira, her body trembling with shock, lifted the staff once more. The heat still lingered, burning beneath her skin like a caged flame.
The second assassin, furious, charged at her with his sword. She ducked beneath the swing and drove the staff into his stomach. As he doubled over, something inside her cracked loose again. Fire burst from her palm where it pressed against the wood, traveling down into the strike. The man flew backward, slamming into the cavern wall with a cry.
Breathless, Elira staggered back. Her heart thundered, her vision blurring with heat. She had never known such power, never even imagined it could live within her.
But it was real. Terrifyingly real.
The last assassin fought with the ferocity of desperation, but Kaelen—though wounded—was no ordinary man. With a swift parry and a brutal twist, he sent the man's blade clattering to the ground. He pressed his dagger to the assassin's throat, forcing him to still.
"Who sent you?" Kaelen demanded, voice like steel.
The man spat, blood flecking his lips. "Your throne is already lost. Kill me if you will—others will come. You cannot run from what you are."
Kaelen's jaw clenched, fury blazing in his eyes. For a moment, Elira thought he would end the man then and there. But instead, he struck with the hilt, sending the assassin crumpling unconscious to the floor.
Silence crashed down at last, broken only by the roar of the tide.
Elira leaned against the wall, her body trembling violently. Her hands still glowed faintly, embers fading into nothing. "What… what have I done?"
Kaelen turned to her, chest heaving, eyes wide with awe and something deeper. "You saved us."
Her breath came in ragged gasps. "That wasn't me. It can't be me. Fire does not obey my hands."
He stepped closer, his dagger lowering. His gaze swept over her, lingering on her trembling fingers. "And yet I saw it with my own eyes. You wield flame as though born of it."
Her throat tightened. The spirit's words echoed in her skull: *You are my vessel.*
"No…" She shook her head, pressing her fists against her chest. "I never asked for this. I never wanted it."
Kaelen's expression softened. Slowly, he reached for her hand, his touch warm, steady. "Power does not ask permission, Elira. But it is yours, nonetheless. And you are no less a healer for carrying it."
The gentleness in his voice unraveled her. Tears stung her eyes, though she forced them back. "If anyone learns of this—if the church ever discovers—I will be hunted as a heretic."
"Then I will stand beside you," Kaelen said fiercely. "You risked your life for me. I will not abandon you to face this alone."
Something in his vow settled deep within her, steadying her racing heart. For a long moment, they stood in silence, bound not by chains or vows but by fire and trust.
Then Kaelen's gaze shifted to the unconscious assassin. His jaw hardened again. "We cannot stay here. If three came, more will follow. Word will spread."
Elira nodded numbly. "Where will we go?"
He sheathed his dagger, his eyes meeting hers. "North. To Aeryndral. To reclaim what was stolen before shadow claims the whole realm."
Her pulse quickened. Leave Cape Coast? Leave the only home she had ever known? The thought terrified her.
But then she looked at the scorched stone where her fire had burned, and she knew her life had already changed. There was no path back to peace, no hiding from what stirred inside her.
At last, she lifted her chin, meeting his gaze. "Then I will go."
For the first time since she had found him on the shore, Kaelen's lips curved in something more than grim resolve. It was faint, fleeting—but real. A smile born of hope.
"Then we go together."
---
The tide surged higher outside, waves crashing like thunder. In the cave's shadows, the fire in Elira's veins still burned, quiet but insistent.
Destiny had awoken. And it would not let her go.
--