The fire didn't fade.
It lived in his chest now—smoldering beneath his skin, curled tight like a sleeping beast. Kael sat in the ash, fists clenched, breath ragged. The phoenix's flame had vanished into him, yet its warmth lingered, unlike anything he'd ever known.
For the first time in sixteen years, Kael felt.
Not joy. Not sorrow.
But something raw. Unnamed. Like a spark waiting to catch.
The Ashwilds stretched around him, quiet as a grave. Wind stirred the soot, revealing old ruins half-swallowed by time—broken statues, shattered columns, and a toppled brazier that hadn't held flame in ages.
He rose on unsteady legs, every movement strange with the weight of sensation. His boots crunched softly as he crossed the clearing, heading toward the ruins. The phoenix's final words echoed through his mind.
She will find you when the stars bleed fire.
He didn't know what it meant. But it sounded like prophecy.
And Kael had never believed in prophecy.
The ruins offered no shelter, only shadows. He found a crumbling archway and ducked beneath it. There, in a corner where ash had settled deep, he uncovered something unexpected—bones.
Human.
Whoever they had been, they'd died clutching a small object. A locket.
Kael pried it free. Inside was a miniature painting—two figures, a woman with flame-red hair and a boy no older than five. Her smile was wide. Fierce.
There was writing etched in the lid, nearly worn away: To my ember. Burn bright.
Kael closed the locket gently.
He'd never known his mother to smile like that.
By nightfall, Kael had constructed a makeshift shelter out of stone and old timber. He'd gathered what little kindling he could find, but when he struck flint to steel, nothing caught.
Until he touched the wood.
With a single breath, it lit.
His fingers glowed faintly, warmth trailing from his skin like smoke.
The flame danced before him, small but steady.
He stared at it for a long time, entranced by its flickering.
"Looks like the phoenix chose right."
The voice startled him. Sharp. Feminine. Confident.
Kael turned instantly, rising to his feet. A girl stood at the edge of the firelight, dressed in leathers dusted with ash. Her hair was dark and braided over one shoulder, and she carried a short sword strapped to her back. Her eyes gleamed with quiet amusement.
"You're not from around here," she said, stepping closer.
Kael said nothing.
"I'm Elara," she offered, crouching by the fire without waiting for an invitation. "You?"
He hesitated. "Kael."
"Elara" didn't look impressed or surprised. She poked the fire with a stick, watching the flames coil. "That phoenix… it found you, didn't it?"
His eyes narrowed. "How do you know?"
"Because I've been looking for it," she said, shrugging. "And now it's gone. Which means it gave you something."
Kael didn't answer. He wasn't sure what she wanted—or what he was anymore.
Elara looked up, her expression softer. "You don't have to tell me. Not yet. But if the flame accepted you, then you're not just a cast-off. You're something new."
Kael didn't know what that meant. He only knew one thing for certain: the fire inside him had changed everything.
And now a stranger with sharp eyes and a sword spoke of purpose.
Destiny.
Kael didn't trust fate.
But he was starting to believe in fire.