The cave breathed with the sound of dripping water and the distant groan of shifting stone. Liora stood motionless, her hands balled into fists at her sides, the fire in her chest hotter than anything the torchlight could cast. The truth of Ysolde's betrayal still rang in her ears, louder than any thunderclap.
She turned her back on her grandmother and faced the narrow tunnel ahead. The air grew denser with every breath, filled with ancient dust and the weight of forgotten voices. Whispers laced with sorrow curled around her ears, brushing her skin like invisible threads. Each step felt heavier, the silence pressing closer, but still she moved forward slowly, deliberately. Her heart beat loud in her chest, yet it was the faint orange glow that kept her going. It flickered deeper in the passage, drawing her onward like a firefly pulled toward the warmth of a hidden flame.
"Liora, wait," Ysolde called out, her voice cracking under the weight of desperation and regret. The sound echoed off the stone walls, trembling like something fragile and broken. "Please don't go where I can't follow. There's more you need to know."
But Liora didn't wait. Her heart was pounding, her mind a storm of anger and confusion. She moved forward, faster now, as if distance could silence everything Ysolde had said.
Tomas limped quietly behind her. His shoulder still bled beneath the makeshift bandage, but he didn't complain. The tension between them all was like a vapor that no words could burn away. Ysolde followed last, her face pale, her eyes hollow. None of them spoke.
The narrow tunnel widened into a chamber. At the center stood a stone basin, cracked and blackened. It pulsed with faint embers, no more than dying coals in a fire long forgotten.
Liora's breath caught, sharp and uneven, as if the air itself had turned to fire. Her fingers tingled violently, a buzzing under her skin that made her arms tremble. The heat in her chest surged upward like a wave crashing through her ribs sudden, fierce, and alive. It wasn't just warmth; it was power, raw and ancient. Her heart pounded, caught between fear and awe, as if something deep inside her had just awakened.
The First Flame.
She didn't know how she knew, but the moment she stepped toward it, the ember pulsed like a heartbeat. It called to her in a way words never could, deep and instinctual, as if it had always been a part of her. The glow seemed to recognize her presence, flaring gently, as though breathing with her. Every step forward tightened the connection, like invisible threads weaving her to something ancient, something waiting.
Ysolde gasped. "This place Liora, this is where your mother spoke her last rites. This is where Alwen stood before the Veil thinned. The flame remembers blood."
"I don't need any more riddles," Liora muttered, frustration tightening her voice. She stepped closer, her eyes locked on the flickering basin. The flames sparkled softly, casting golden reflections on her skin. Her hand trembled as she reached toward it, hovering above the low fire. "I want to know who I am," she whispered, more to herself than anyone else. The heat licked at her fingers, not burning, but beckoning urging her to remember what had always lived within.
A wind rose out of nowhere. It swept through the chamber in a twisting motion, lifting dust and ash from the cracks in the stone and sending them eddying like specters in a storm. The temperature dropped, sharp and sudden, biting into exposed skin. Tomas stumbled back, his arms instinctively flying up to shield his face. His cloak snapped behind him like a banner in a tempest, and his eyes narrowed against the storm of grit and debris, searching desperately for Liora through the chaos.
Liora didn't move.
The embers roared to life, blooming into a vibrant, twisting flame gold at its core, blue and white at the edges. It flickered toward her, reaching with dancing fingers .And then, it spoke, not with a voice of sound, but one that echoed through her bones, her blood, her memories.
A forgotten tongue, ancient and pure.
Words surged into her mind, she didn't understand them, yet she knew them.
She opened her mouth and spoke back.
The chamber trembled.
Ysolde fell to her knees.
Tomas's eyes widened in awe, his lips parting. "Liora your eyes."
She turned to him, and in his gaze, she saw it reflected her eyes burned with an otherworldly light, pupils rimmed with fire, glowing like twin flames steady and bright. The color once familiar had deepened, alive with ancient energy, as though the very essence of flame now lived within her stare.
She looked down at her hands. The flame hadn't burned her. Instead, it flowed over her skin like water, wrapping her in warmth and something more recognition.
"I can feel it," she whispered, her voice trembling as if the memories weren't just thoughts, but sensations flooding her veins. "Everything it remembers the pain, the fire, the sorrow it's all inside me now."
The flame didn't just carry heat. It carried stories. Thousands of years, hidden beneath stone and fear. It carried voices, her mother's voice, her aunt Alwen's scream, the silent cry of the forest when the Veil first tore.
Liora staggered back, her breath catching in her throat. The voices crashed against her mind too many, too loud, each one clawing for attention, for release. They weren't just echoes, they were memories, burdens, griefs. Her hands flew to her ears, but the sound was inside her, vibrating through her bones.
Ysolde crawled towards her, her voice trembling but urgent. "You must let it anchor you," she pleaded. "Don't drown in it, Liora. The flame remembers everything but it's not you. Listen to it, learn from it, but hold onto yourself. You are more than the past. You are still you."
Liora clenched her fists. "They were protectors. All of them. And they were alone. Each time. No one came for them."
She took a shaking breath. "But I'm not alone."
Tomas moved to her side, steadying her. "No, you're not."
From deep within the tunnel behind them, a sound rose not wind, not flame.
Footsteps.
Then the wet rasp of something unnatural.
Tomas raised his blade, eyes scanning the shifting shadows that crept along the chamber walls. Ysolde's expression turned grave, her voice low and tight with dread. "The Veil felt the flame awaken," she said. "And now, it will come for her. For all of us."
Out of the shadows came a creature not wholly of flesh. It walked on two legs, but its body shimmered like smoke barely bound to bone. Its face was featureless except for the jagged, red mouth carved into its skull.
Liora's breath hitched. "It's like the ones we saw in the woods."
"This one's stronger," Ysolde murmured. "It remembers what it was."
The creature lunged.
Tomas moved fast, blade flashing, but the creature dodged with unnatural grace. It struck with a hand like a hooked claw, raking his chest. He fell with a gasp.
"No!" Liora screamed.
The flame pulsed in the basin. Her blood screamed in reply.
She turned, lifted her hand, and spoke the ancient words again louder, clearer.
The flame surged from the basin and wrapped around her arm like a ribbon. She felt no pain only clarity.
"By name and blood," she said in the old tongue, "I call you back to stillness."
The creature froze mid-step.
Its limbs twitched.
The mouth on its face opened wide, letting out a shriek that cracked stone.
The flames on Liora's arm blazed brighter and leapt toward the creature.
The fire hit it like a wave. But it did not burn. It unmade.
The creature let out one last, long wail before collapsing into smoke and ash.
Silence fell.
Liora gasped and fell to her knees. The flame flickered around her, then dimmed.
Tomas groaned behind her. She crawled to him, eyes wide with fear. "You're hurt"
He shook his head. "I've had worse. You controlled it."
Liora looked down at her hands. They were shaking. "I didn't control it. I spoke to it."
Ysolde approached cautiously. "That was the language of the First Flame. The tongue of the old world. You shouldn't have known it."
"I didn't," Liora whispered. "Until I felt it."
Ysolde's face darkened. "Then it has chosen you."
They rested a while in the chamber, but the tension never fully left. Outside, the ground shook faint tremors now constant. The Veil was weakening faster.
When they rose to leave, the flame in the basin dimmed once more. But as Liora turned to glance back, it flickered toward her, almost in farewell.
Back above ground, the forest felt different, quieter and expectant.
They walked towards the edge of Elderwood, where the twisted trees grew thin. As they reached the ridge, Liora stopped. Across the horizon, black shapes moved. Dozens. Maybe more.
The creatures from the Veil were no longer hiding.They were marching towards Elderwood.
Tomas stepped beside her. "It's starting."
Liora nodded. "And I think I'm finally ready."
But deep in her chest, a sliver of fear remained.
The flame had given her power but not all the answers. And something was still waiting in the dark. Watching,Waiting to strike.