Kahel woke to pain.
The morning light filtered through the cracks in the shutters, sharp and blinding. His body ached as if he had been dragged through fire and stone. His arm throbbed where the wolf had clawed him, the skin around the wound swollen and angry. Every breath was a shallow rasp, his chest tight, muscles trembling.
He sat up slowly, wincing. His shirt clung to his skin, damp with cold sweat. His fingers trembled as he touched the wound on his arm. The skin was red and raw, the edges singed as if scorched by the flame he had conjured.
The ember pulsed faintly in his chest, but it no longer felt warm and powerful. It felt… heavy. Drained.
Kahel stared at his hand, flexing his fingers.
"I used it," he whispered, voice hoarse. "And it burned me too."
The realization sent a chill through him. He had won against the wolf, but he had paid a price. His body wasn't strong enough to handle the flame, not yet. Every muscle ached as if the energy had torn him apart from the inside.
He staggered to his feet, groaning as he stretched. His legs felt weak, unsteady, but he couldn't stay still. Something inside him pushed him back toward the woods, as if the ember itself was calling.
He slipped out of the attic, down the narrow stairs, and into the morning air. The sky was pale and washed out, the sun hidden behind thin clouds. The village bustled as usual, voices, footsteps, the creak of wagons, but Kahel barely heard any of it.
He walked toward the woods, each step heavy.
The forest felt different today. Quieter. The breeze was still, the usual sounds of birds and insects muted. The trees seemed to lean in closer, their branches creaking faintly overhead.
Kahel's breath quickened. His skin prickled with a faint sense of unease.
He walked carefully, the underbrush crunching beneath his boots, and soon found himself in the same clearing where he had fought the wolf. The ground was blackened in patches, scorched by his flame. The scent of burnt fur still lingered faintly in the air.
He stood there, staring at the charred earth, when a soft sound caught his attention.
A faint whimper.
Kahel tensed, spinning toward the noise. At the edge of the clearing, tangled in the roots of an old tree, lay a small fox. Its fur was a deep red, though streaked with dirt and blood. Its leg was twisted awkwardly, a dark patch of blood matting the fur around it. The fox's eyes, wide and golden, fixed on Kahel with a mix of fear and pain.
For a moment, Kahel simply stared.
The fox tried to rise, but its body shook violently, and it collapsed with a soft yelp.
Kahel hesitated, torn.
He had no reason to help it. It was just a small, broken animal. But as he watched it struggle, something stirred inside him, a flicker of memory. His mother's voice, soft and warm. Her hands, gentle on his skin when he had scraped his knees as a child.
Kahel swallowed. The ember pulsed faintly.
He took a step forward. The fox bared its teeth weakly, a soft growl rumbling in its throat.
"I'm not going to hurt you," Kahel muttered, unsure if he was speaking to the fox or to himself.
He knelt beside it, moving slowly, watching the fox's chest rise and fall in quick, shallow breaths. The wound on its leg looked deep, angry. He tore a strip from the edge of his shirt and gently pressed it against the bleeding, trying to stanch the flow.
The fox flinched but did not bite. Its body trembled beneath his hands.
"I don't know what I'm doing," Kahel whispered, voice tight. His fingers worked clumsily, pressing the cloth tighter. The ember inside him pulsed again, faintly, and his hands grew warm. Not fire, not a flame, but a soft warmth, like the fading glow of coals.
The fox stopped trembling. Its breathing slowed. The bleeding slowed, too.
Kahel stared at his hands in disbelief. He hadn't meant to heal it, hadn't even known he could, but somehow, the ember had responded.
The fox's eyes flickered open, golden and bright. It stared at him, silent.
Kahel sat back on his heels, heart pounding.
"Looks like we're both broken," he muttered, half to himself, half to the fox.
The fox blinked, its ears twitching faintly.
Kahel sighed, exhaustion pressing down on him like a weight. He didn't know what this thing inside him was, this flame that could burn and heal in equal measure. He didn't know what it would cost him.
But for now, he was alive. The fox was alive.
And maybe, just maybe, they weren't alone.
Hidden in the shadows of the forest, the dark-robed figure watched. His gaze fixed on Kahel, silent, unwavering.
He made no sound. He did not intervene.
But the flame within Kahel's chest was not the only force awakening in the woods.