Morning in Emberlight began with the scent of browned butter, roasted garlic, and the soft laughter of children.
The Crimson Hearth Bistro stirred to life like a waking beast. Its wooden beams glowed golden in the sunlight, windows fogged slightly from the heat inside. Steam rose from massive iron pots, eggs cracked in quick succession, and warm bread filled the oven's mouth like a prayer to the gods of hearth and hunger.
At the center of it all, Kael moved like a quiet storm—his dark hair tied back, his arms exposed beneath his apron, revealing the muscular remnants of a life long lived in blood and ash.
His hands stirred a pan of golden mushrooms while his youngest daughter, Lina, clung to his leg, giggling with every swirl.
"Papa! It smells like butter frogs!"
"That's because you tried to feed the frogs to the pan yesterday," Kael said, flicking her nose with a smile. "These are golden chanterelles, little beast."
In the corner, Amaris, the eldest, sat cross-legged with her books spread open, quill dancing across parchment. A magical glow clung to her fingertips—a soft ember of inherited power she still hadn't told her father about. But the flames whispered.
They always whispered.
Across the room, Kael's wife moved like poetry made flesh—Naevia, the elf whose beauty seemed untouched by time. Her silver hair spilled down her back, and her sharp, angled ears twitched when she caught Kael staring too long.
"You should focus on the pan," she said without looking up.
Kael smirked. "The pan's not nearly as distracting."
A plate of eggs and herbs hovered toward her via magical thread—her own doing. She winked. "Your charm hasn't dulled, warrior."
He leaned close, his lips brushing her ear. "I was hoping you'd test that tonight."
She laughed, low and promising.
---
Outside, the bistro's patio bustled with customers. A red-haired dwarf raised a tankard to a half-fox waitress—Tali, the newest member of Kael's peculiar growing staff. She balanced trays better than anyone thanks to her nimble tail, though she kept blushing every time Kael offered to teach her how to knead dough "by hand."
Down the alley, a cloaked figure watched silently, lips pursed, hand resting on a curved dagger. He saw the family. He noted the elven wife. The fox girl. The subtle flame aura around the eldest child.
He turned and vanished.
---
Back inside, as the breakfast rush slowed, Kael stepped onto the back terrace where the kitchen garden bloomed. Rows of tomatoes, chives, and magical saffron danced in the breeze.
He sighed.
This peace—it felt borrowed. Like a song paused in its middle note.
Naevia joined him, her expression thoughtful. "You feel it too, don't you?"
"Yes."
She brushed her hand along his arm. "The world doesn't let warriors sleep forever."
Kael kissed her forehead. "Let it come slowly. I have children to raise. A hearth to tend."
"And a bed to warm," she added, pulling him close.
Their kiss was slow, melting. It deepened quickly—hands roamed, breath mingled. Kael pressed her against the wall of ivy, growling low. Her legs curled around his waist, her voice breaking into a soft moan as his lips traveled from her mouth to her neck.
But just as his hands slipped beneath her dress—
"Papa!" came a voice.
They froze.
"…Yes, Lina?" Kael called, still holding his wife with his forehead pressed to hers.
"Amaris made the pepper pot explode again!"
Naevia stifled a laugh.
Kael groaned, straightened himself, and whispered, "Tonight."
She bit her lip, eyes burning with promise. "If you survive your daughters."
---
Unseen, from the rooftops above the restaurant, a raven-shaped shadow coalesced into a thin, beautiful woman with obsidian wings and glowing violet eyes.
"The Flameborn are nestled," she whispered. "Time to pluck feathers."
Then she vanished into smoke.