Dawn in Emberlight came soft and golden, brushing rooftops with gentle hues and casting long shadows through the cobbled streets. The scent of bread and fresh herbs wove with morning dew as smoke began curling from the bistro chimney.
Kael was already awake, standing shirtless by the prep table, an apron tied lazily around his waist as he chopped crisproot and wild fennel. His muscles flexed with practiced rhythm, scarred hands moving like blades as if both a warrior and chef still lived within him—because both did.
The restaurant's hearth hummed faintly, the fire inside not entirely mundane. Kael had fed it more than wood—it burned on a spark older than the town itself. Every now and then, it pulsed in tune with his heartbeat.
He paused and looked out the window.
Across the square, sitting on the stone fountain's edge, was Elyra. Still robed, her eyes closed, palms on her knees. Meditating. Watching. Listening.
He didn't need to see her silver eyes to feel the pressure of her attention. It was like standing in a room with a blade you couldn't see—but knew was drawn.
Footsteps echoed softly down the stairs. Aeris entered, brushing back her glowing strands, a loose shirt barely clinging to her shoulder.
"She was out there before first light," Aeris murmured, sipping the tea Kael had set aside for her. "Still hiding something."
"I know," Kael said. "She speaks like someone who's used to being obeyed… not served."
"You're still going to feed her?"
Kael smiled faintly. "Of course. Fire reveals truth. If she stays long enough… she'll burn too."
---
Upstairs, Lyra sat on the floor of her room, surrounded by toys and scraps of cloth she insisted were dresses for Nibbles. The bunny, ever patient, sat in a tiny cape with one ear tied up.
"I'm gonna make you dance," she whispered, holding out her hands.
She furrowed her brow. Something fluttered in her chest—not fear, not pain, but something warm. A crackle. Like a spark.
Then the air shimmered faintly.
Nibbles twitched—and levitated a few inches off the ground before flopping in surprise with a grunt.
Lyra blinked. "Did I… did I do that?"
The bunny looked at her accusingly. She giggled—and a light burst across her fingertips like a flickering flame before vanishing.
Downstairs, the hearth fire pulsed.
Kael's knife froze mid-slice.
He slowly turned to the stairs.
"You felt that too?" Aeris whispered.
Kael's eyes narrowed. "Lyra."
---
Later that morning, Elyra entered the bistro silently, seating herself by the window. She wore a different robe now, sleek and embroidered with delicate moon-weave—an enchantment that responded to magic in its vicinity.
Kael brought her a bowl of sea-silk noodle broth and set it before her.
"Today's dish?" she asked, not looking up.
"Your test continues," Kael replied. "Eat. Think. Watch."
"I dreamt of flame last night," she said. "A girl, small, but glowing like the first dawn. She stood in a field of ash… and changed it."
Kael stiffened slightly, but said nothing.
Elyra looked up, her silver gaze piercing. "Was that your doing?"
"No," Kael said simply. "But I'll protect her, whoever she becomes."
Elyra smiled faintly. "Then you are still what they feared."
---
That night, after the restaurant had closed and Lyra had fallen asleep clutching her stuffed bunny, Kael and Aeris stood in the herb garden under starlight.
"She's awakening," Aeris said. "Whatever was sealed… it's stirring."
"She's too young," Kael said, voice low.
"So were you," Aeris whispered, brushing a finger along his jaw.
Kael exhaled slowly. "We'll train her. Quietly. Carefully. No schools, no orders. Just us."
"And what of Elyra?"
"She's more than a messenger. She's a judge. Maybe even a recruiter."
"You think she came to test Lyra?"
"No," Kael said. "She came for me. But she stayed for what's coming."
---
Far across the city, in a private chamber of moonlight and illusion, Elyra stood before a floating disc of light.
A voice, disembodied and ancient, echoed from the other side.
"You've confirmed the identity?"
"Yes," Elyra replied. "The Flameborn lives. The child is his. The woman… not of this world."
"Do they pose a threat?"
"…Not yet. But they will. And they are not alone."