FATE REFORGED
The silence after battle was always the loudest.
Kael stood, chest heaving, the Vyr'ethal still humming in his hand, bloodless yet deadly. The remains of the Nightwraiths—twisted ash and withered roots—lay scattered at his feet. The moon hung heavy in the sky, painting everything in silver and shadow.
And she was there.
Elira.
Cloaked in moonlight, standing at the tree line, her violet eyes wide with fear—and something deeper.
Recognition.
She didn't run.
Kael didn't speak.
For a moment, the world stopped breathing.
Then she stepped forward, slowly, as if approaching a wild animal. "That sword," she said softly, "you used it like you've held it for lifetimes."
Kael lowered the blade. "Maybe I have."
Elira blinked. "Those things… what were they?"
"Nightwraiths. Born of shadow. They serve no master… unless one has awakened them."
Her gaze lingered on the scorched forest floor. "That's impossible. They haven't been seen in the north in decades."
"I know."
He turned to her then, eyes meeting hers fully. "Why are you here, Elira?"
She opened her mouth, then hesitated. "I don't know. I just… I felt I needed to come back. Like something was pulling me. A thread I couldn't cut."
Kael's heart thudded. "I've felt it too."
A long silence passed.
Then she stepped closer, lifting her hand slowly. "When I touched your hand that night… something changed. I've had dreams since then. Visions. Of fire. Of you. Of a girl who looked like me, dying in your arms."
Kael swallowed. "Her name was Liora."
"I think… I think I was her."
He nodded.
And then he pulled down the collar of his tunic, revealing the sigil glowing faintly on his chest.
Elira gasped.
Without speaking, she tugged her blouse aside—and beneath her collarbone, a mirror image burned softly in gold and ember-red.
The Ember Crest.
"You're her," Kael whispered. "You've come back."
Elira stepped into him without hesitation, resting her forehead against his. "And so have you."
They stood like that for what felt like eternity, lost in the warmth of a bond older than memory. The Flamebound and the Emberheart—lovers shaped by destiny, torn apart by war, returned to the world once more.
But with reunion came clarity.
And with clarity, came danger.
Kael pulled back. "If the Wraiths are here, Theryn's shadow can't be far."
Elira frowned. "Theryn… That name…"
"He was the one who destroyed everything. The king of obsidian, the breaker of souls. He hunted us until the end. It was his blade that—"
Kael's breath caught.
He couldn't say it.
But Elira understood.
"He killed me."
He nodded slowly. "He feared the Flame. Feared us."
The next day, they returned to the forest glade together.
Kael trained with the Vyr'ethal. Elira began experimenting with the strange warmth in her hands—light flickered at her fingertips when she focused, and once, a flower bloomed instantly beneath her touch.
"You're not just a healer," Kael murmured. "You're a Source."
Elira raised a brow. "A what?"
He explained: in the Age of Flame, Sourcebearers were rare—humans who could channel raw elemental energy without a staff or spellform. Liora had once restored life to an entire war-torn village by pouring light from her palms.
Now Elira could feel that same power waking.
But each awakening brought pain.
Nosebleeds. Exhaustion. And visions—of the old world, of Liora's last stand, of Kael dying beneath her as a fiery crown burned above them both.
The past was not a dream.
It was a warning.
That night, Elira woke screaming.
Kael was at her side in an instant, gripping her shoulders as she trembled. "It's okay. I'm here."
Her eyes were wild. "He's coming. Kael, he's coming back."
Kael didn't need to ask who.
The next morning, a messenger arrived from the highlands.
The border outposts had fallen.
Burned.
Witnesses spoke of a man in black armor, with eyes like dying stars, riding a beast made of bone and smoke.
Kael's blood turned cold.
Theryn had returned.
They had little time.
Master Deren revealed what he had long suspected: Kael's appearance in Grendale wasn't a coincidence. The old gods had planted his soul near the Emberheart's return. He was drawn to the place of his rebirth. To her.
"I was meant to find you," Kael whispered.
Elira took his hand. "We were meant to remember."
Together, they left Grendale at dawn.
Kael wore the Vyr'ethal across his back, and Elira carried the newly-sketched scrolls of her own glowing sigil. Her power was unstable, but growing. Together, they would head east—to the Ruins of Velmira, the ancient sanctuary of the Flamebound Order.
There, they hoped to awaken the rest of their gifts.
But in the shadows behind them, unseen, a raven landed on a twisted tree.
Its eyes burned red.
And from its beak, it whispered one word into the wind:
"Found."