The forest beyond Vireth was older than the flame dynasty itself. Twisted trees reached toward the sky like clawed hands, their trunks scorched black from wars long forgotten.
Few dared enter these woods. Even fewer returned unchanged.
As Kael, Serenya, and Selira pushed through dense undergrowth, the air grew thick with emberdust—spark-like motes that hovered unnaturally in the air.
"This place doesn't feel right," Serenya muttered, drawing her cloak tighter. "It's like something's watching us."
Kael scanned the path ahead. "That's because something is."
Selira knelt beside a half-burned stump and brushed her fingers through the ash. "Tracks. Four-legged. Heavy. Spaced wide."
Kael grimaced. "Emberwolves."
Serenya blinked. "You're joking."
"I wish I was," Selira said. "They were bred by the old kings to guard the Flameheart Bastion. Fire-touched wolves with molten breath and minds linked to the will of the flameborn."
"But they've been extinct for generations," Serenya protested.
Kael looked toward the darkening path. "Apparently not."
—
They didn't have to wait long.
The first howl echoed through the forest like a scream through a furnace. Deep. Violent. Close.
Kael drew his sword; Selira unsheathed her daggers in a blink.
Serenya called flame to her palms, but this time, it came slower. Hesitant. As if the forest resisted her.
"Why can't I summon it properly?" she gasped.
Selira's voice was low. "The wolves bend the flame around them. Distort it. You'll have to fight without it."
A moment later, red eyes pierced the mist.
An emberwolf emerged—towering, fur like flickering coals, breath steaming with smoke. Then another. Then two more.
They circled.
Kael didn't wait. He lunged toward the alpha, blade cutting through the air in a blur of gold. The wolf dodged, unnaturally fast, and bit down on Kael's gauntlet with a burst of fire from its jaws. Sparks flew. Kael hissed in pain.
Selira spun into motion, her daggers slashing low and fast, catching one wolf across its flank. It yelped, staggered, then retaliated with a whip of its flaming tail.
Serenya stayed back, heart racing, trying to ignite even a spark. Nothing came.
"Don't panic. Focus. Feel the fire inside, not the forest around."
It was Kael's voice—echoing through the bond.
She closed her eyes and reached deep, past the noise, past the fear—into the place where her flame lived. She found it. Not bright. Not violent. But steady.
When she opened her eyes, she whispered one word:
"Rise."
Flame surged from her body—not as an explosion, but a controlled blaze that wrapped around her arms and laced her fingers like ribbons of molten silk.
She raised her hand and called, "Kael—duck!"
He did, and Serenya hurled a focused stream of fire that struck the alpha wolf's face. It staggered back, blinded.
Kael sprang up, sword flashing, and drove it into the beast's heart.
The alpha fell.
The rest of the pack paused. Their fire dimmed. Then, one by one, they bowed their heads.
Selira narrowed her eyes. "What are they doing?"
"They're recognizing the flame," Kael said softly. "They know she's one of the three."
The emberwolves backed away into the trees and vanished.
—
Later that night, the three camped near a cracked stone monolith—an old marker bearing the sigil of the Bastion.
Serenya stared at the fire they built, her thoughts spinning.
"I felt… different. When the flame answered."
"You are different now," Kael said. "We all are."
Selira turned the ancient map over in her hands. "We're only a day away from the Bastion. If the Flameheart is there, it'll be guarded by more than wolves."
Kael looked up at the dark sky, stars hidden by ash.
"Then we'll face it together."
Unseen behind them, high on a cliff ledge, a silver-eyed creature watched. A raven-shaped shadow, its wings trailing black fire.
And far to the east, Queen Virelya lit a beacon atop the obsidian spire—an ancient summoning flame used only once before.
She was calling something ancient.
And it had answered.