The village was silent in the hours before dawn, cloaked in mist that rolled in from the sea. Elira stood at the edge of the market square, her satchel heavy on her shoulder, her heart heavier still. Every path, every doorway carried memories: the stall where Mira once traded herbs for bread, the steps of the chapel where she had tended to fevered children, the very stones worn smooth beneath her feet.
Now she left them all behind.
Kaelen waited a few paces ahead, cloaked in shadow. He had drawn his hood low to hide his features, but even beneath the fabric, he carried the unmistakable bearing of one born to command. His hand rested lightly on the hilt of his dagger, eyes sharp as he scanned the square.
"We must go," he said quietly.
Elira lingered, torn between duty and longing. "What if they come here again? If the cloaked men search the village and harm the people—"
Kaelen turned to her, his expression softening despite the urgency in his tone. "Your presence is the greater danger. You saw their ruthlessness. If they discover what you can do…" He shook his head. "Staying will not protect them. It will only bring fire to their doorsteps."
Her chest tightened, but she knew he spoke truth. Still, she pressed a hand to the stone wall of the market, as though to etch the memory of it into her skin.
"Goodbye," she whispered to the village she had called home her whole life. Then she squared her shoulders, forcing herself to step forward.
Kaelen's gaze lingered on her a moment, and he inclined his head. "You are braver than you believe."
They moved north, slipping through winding paths as dawn's first light crept across the horizon.
---
The road wound between rolling hills, damp with morning dew. Mist curled through the grass, veiling their steps. Elira's satchel thudded against her hip with each stride, filled with herbs, bandages, dried meat, and the last of her bread. Kaelen carried little beyond his dagger, his stride steady despite the wound hidden beneath his cloak.
For a time, they walked in silence, broken only by the cries of distant gulls. Elira's thoughts churned. The memory of fire bursting from her hands haunted her—its heat, its hunger, the way it had answered her fear like an old companion.
Finally, Kaelen spoke, his voice low. "You have questions."
Elira glanced at him. "Too many to name. But most of all—what if it happens again? What if I cannot control it?"
He studied her, his expression thoughtful. "Then you learn. Fire can destroy, yes, but it can also warm, shield, and protect. Power bends to the will of the one who wields it."
Her laugh was short, bitter. "Easy words for a prince trained in steel since childhood. But I was taught that power like this belongs only to the divine—or to demons."
Kaelen's gaze hardened. "And yet it is yours. Neither divine nor demon. Elira." His voice softened. "Do not let the church's chains define you. I saw you in the cave. Without your fire, we would be corpses now."
His words struck deep, a mixture of fear and pride stirring in her chest. She wanted to believe him, wanted to see the fire as more than a curse. Yet the echoes of sermons still rang in her memory, condemning those who dared touch forbidden flame.
They walked on, each lost in thought.
---
By midday, they reached the crossroads where the hills sloped into farmland. Fields stretched wide, dotted with scarecrows and the distant figures of farmers bent over crops. Smoke rose from a cluster of cottages on the horizon.
"Will we risk passing through?" Elira asked, her voice hushed.
Kaelen's eyes scanned the fields. "We must. Supplies will not last long otherwise."
Her heart pounded as they approached the village. Every face seemed to linger too long, every passing glance a threat. They purchased bread, cheese, and water at the market, Kaelen keeping his hood low while Elira bartered. The merchant, a stout woman with a keen eye, studied Kaelen suspiciously but said nothing.
Yet as they left, Elira caught sight of a rider at the village edge—a man in a dark cloak, his horse restless beneath him. The man's eyes swept the square with predator's patience.
Her hand brushed Kaelen's arm. "We're watched."
He did not look back, but his grip on his dagger tightened. "Then we move quickly."
They slipped into the forest beyond the fields, the shadows swallowing them whole.
---
That night, they made camp by a stream. Elira gathered kindling, her hands trembling slightly as she tried to coax flame from flint. But before she struck, Kaelen's hand closed gently over hers.
"You do not need this," he said softly.
Her heart stuttered. "I cannot call it at will."
"Then try." His voice was steady, encouraging.
She swallowed hard, staring at her palms. For a long moment, nothing happened. Then, as she closed her eyes and reached for the memory of warmth in the cave, heat flickered. Sparks danced across her fingers, then blossomed into a small flame hovering above her palm.
She gasped, nearly letting it slip, but Kaelen's hands steadied hers. "Good. You control it, not the other way around."
The flame crackled gently, casting their faces in gold. Elira's eyes met his across the fire, and something passed between them—something wordless, fragile, yet undeniable.
"Why do you trust me with this?" she whispered.
His gaze lingered on her, deep and unflinching. "Because you trusted me with my truth. And because…" He hesitated, his voice rough. "Because I cannot afford not to."
Her chest tightened, her thoughts tangled with things she dared not speak. Instead, she let the flame drift to the kindling, where it caught and spread.
The fire burned steady through the night.
---
But the shadows had not relented.
As they rested, cloaked figures moved silently through the trees, tracking the faint signs of their passage. One of them crouched by the stream, his pale eyes narrowing at the traces left behind.
"The prince rides north," he murmured to his companions. "And he is not alone."
---
The next day brought rain, soft but persistent, soaking their cloaks as they trudged along a muddy path. The forest thickened, the trees crowding overhead. Birds scattered at the sound of distant hoofbeats, faint but growing closer.
Kaelen stiffened. "They follow."
Elira's heart lurched. "How many?"
He listened, his expression grim. "At least four riders."
Panic surged, but he caught her hand firmly, his voice steady. "Stay close. If they find us, we fight together."
She nodded, fear and resolve warring within her. The fire stirred beneath her skin again, restless, waiting.
The hoofbeats grew louder. Shadows moved between the trees.
And then a rider burst onto the path ahead, sword gleaming in the rain.