The dawn broke pale and gray, the marsh still cloaked in mist. The camp of the Luminous Order stirred with military precision: fires doused, tents struck, horses readied. Every man moved as though guided by a single hand, their silence unnerving in its uniformity.
Elira sat apart, her cloak drawn tight. The flames from the night before haunted her still, their echoes dancing in the corner of her mind. When she closed her eyes, she saw scorched flesh and smelled the acrid tang of burned cloth. She had killed. She could not deny it.
Her hands trembled as she held them close, fingers curled inward. She feared touching anything, feared sparking a fire she could not control.
Kaelen knelt beside her, fastening the strap of his boot with slow, deliberate care. His wound still plagued him, though he masked it beneath a prince's composure.
"You haven't spoken since last night," he said softly.
She lifted her gaze, meeting his eyes. There was no judgment there, only a weariness that matched her own. "What is there to say?" she whispered. "That I am a danger? That they will never let me go once they see what I am?"
Kaelen's jaw tightened. "You are not a danger, Elira. You are a weapon they fear. There's a difference."
His words did little to soothe her. If anything, they deepened the chill in her bones.
---
### Departure
Sir Alrik barked orders, his voice sharp as steel. "Form ranks. Keep the prisoners in sight. We ride for High Lumen by nightfall."
At the name, a murmur rippled through the soldiers—a city not just of stone, but of faith, their beacon and bastion. Elira had heard of it only in whispers: a fortress where light never dimmed, where the Council judged all things in the name of God and flame.
Kaelen mounted his horse with difficulty, pain evident in the stiffness of his movements. Elira was given a smaller mare, its reins held by one of the knights. She felt the restraint like a chain, even if no iron bound her wrists.
The column began to move, hooves squelching through wet earth. Torches still burned despite the rising sun, as though the Order trusted their flames more than daylight.
Behind them, unseen, a small figure darted through the underbrush. Corin followed still, lantern tucked into his satchel, determination set in his young face.
---
### POV: Corin
The boy kept low, heart pounding each time a knight turned his head. He had never trailed soldiers before. Their discipline was terrifying—so unlike the drunken brawlers who wandered through Efutu's alleys.
But he could not turn back. His father had vanished the same night these strangers appeared. His gut told him the threads were tied. If the prince and the fire-girl were bound for judgment, perhaps his father's fate lay tangled with theirs.
He would not lose both. Not without knowing why.
---
### On the road
The forest gave way to rolling hills, the mist thinning beneath a sky streaked with pale gold. For the first time, Elira could see the land stretching outward—fields scarred by old battles, stone ruins swallowed by ivy.
Kaelen rode close, his voice low enough that only she could hear. "Listen carefully. The Council will twist everything they see. They will call your fire a curse, a danger to be contained. But do not give them your fear. That is what they want."
Her throat tightened. "And what of you? They called you prince. What will they demand of you?"
He hesitated, then gave a humorless smile. "Obedience. And I have never been good at that."
Elira almost smiled, but the weight of the moment smothered it. She turned her gaze back to the horizon.
---
### POV: Sir Alrik
From the head of the column, Alrik studied the pair with a soldier's eye. The prince's defiance was expected, even admirable in a foolish way. Royals often mistook pride for power. But the girl—she was something else.
Her fire had burned bright in the marsh. Too bright. Such gifts were meant for saints or executioners, not for trembling peasants. If she could not be controlled, she would be destroyed. That was the Council's way.
And Alrik would not question it.
Still, a seed of unease stirred. He had seen the boy shadowing them. He let him follow for now—bait often revealed greater prey.
---
### Camp at dusk
By evening, they made camp on a high ridge overlooking the river. The sun bled crimson into the sky, painting the world in fire. Elira sat close to the flames, though she feared them, the warmth a cruel reminder of her own power.
Kaelen winced as he adjusted his bandage. Elira leaned forward before she could stop herself. "Let me see."
He hesitated, pride warring with pain, but finally allowed it. She peeled back the cloth gently, revealing the wound—angry, swollen, though not yet poisoned.
"You're lucky," she murmured. "Another inch and it would have taken you."
His eyes softened as she worked. "You've saved me twice now. But I wonder—who will save you?"
The question lingered, heavy and unspoken.
---
### POV: Sir Deylan
Sir Deylan watched from the shadows, unease coiling in his chest. He had warned them already, but he feared it would not be enough. The Council would not treat the girl kindly.
He thought of his daughter, long buried, who had once laughed at fireflies in the garden. The memory made his jaw clench. He had sworn never to falter in his oath, yet tonight, doubt gnawed at him.
Was obedience still light if it cast such darkness?
---
### The vision
That night, Elira dreamed. Flames roared around her, devouring the ridge, the marsh, the sky itself. She stood at the center, unburned, her hands raised. Kaelen knelt before her, chains around his wrists, his eyes begging.
Behind him, the Council loomed in shadow, their faces hidden, their voices a chorus: *Burn her. Burn her. Burn her.*
She woke with a cry, sweat slicking her skin. Kaelen stirred beside her, instantly alert.
"Elira?"
She shook her head, unable to speak. The fire inside her pulsed as though mocking her terror.
---
### Arrival
By dawn, the towers of High Lumen rose on the horizon. They gleamed in the rising sun, tall spires of white stone crowned with banners of gold. The walls shone as if carved from light itself, a beacon visible for miles.
Elira's breath caught. It was beautiful—and terrible. A city that looked like heaven but carried the weight of judgment.
Kaelen's eyes hardened. "Welcome to the Council's nest," he muttered. "Where truths burn brighter than lies—and where lies are called truth."
The knights urged their horses forward. The gates yawned open, waiting to swallow them whole.
And somewhere in the trees beyond the road, Corin watched, clutching his lantern, and vowed to follow inside, no matter the cost