Ember Hollow felt like a forgotten heartbeat beneath the earth—alive, hidden, and pulsing with purpose.
Kael followed Elara and Merek deeper into the cavern, his senses overwhelmed by the glow of controlled fire and the hum of voices echoing off stone. Tunnels twisted outward in every direction, branching into makeshift homes, training chambers, and war rooms filled with maps and scrolls.
No one here bowed or flinched at his mark.
No one called him Forsaken.
"Stay close," Elara whispered as they entered a wide hall where dozens gathered around a crackling central flame. "Some here still fear phoenix fire. Not everyone will welcome you with open arms."
Kael gave a cautious nod, eyes scanning the crowd. The people looked hardened—soldiers, fireless wanderers, exiles like him. But they moved with the same rhythm, as if part of a single purpose. The flicker of hope stirred within him.
A woman stepped forward from the crowd. Her crimson robes shimmered like coals, and a burn scar ran from her jaw to her collarbone. Her presence silenced the hall.
"Merek," she said. "You brought them."
He nodded. "As promised, Commander Nyra. This is Kael. The one the phoenix chose."
Her eyes landed on Kael—sharp, skeptical. "I've heard whispers, boy. Power without control burns down everything it touches. Can you command what lives inside you?"
Kael hesitated, feeling the heat stir beneath his skin. "Not yet. But I will."
Nyra's lips curved slightly—not quite a smile. "Then we'll see if you're worth the risk."
Without warning, she threw a ball of flame at him.
Kael flinched, hands flying up instinctively. The fire struck an invisible barrier, then exploded outward in a burst of golden light. Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Nyra studied him for a moment longer. "You've got more than just luck. Train with us. Learn to control it. Or leave before it controls you."
Elara stepped forward. "He's not going anywhere."
Nyra turned. "Then you'll be responsible for him."
Kael met Elara's eyes, surprised by the protectiveness in her tone. She offered him a brief nod, one he returned without hesitation.
Later, Kael sat alone near a small stream flowing through a quiet side tunnel, the roar of Ember Hollow muffled in the distance. He cupped water in his hands, watching how even the reflection of his face shimmered with flickering flame beneath his skin.
He was changing.
Not just stronger—different.
Footsteps approached. Elara sat beside him silently, pulling her knees to her chest.
"You handled yourself well," she said after a moment. "Nyra doesn't test just anyone."
"I didn't do anything," Kael muttered. "The flame reacted on its own."
"That's what makes it dangerous," she said. "And special."
Kael looked at her. "You trust me. Why?"
Elara's expression softened. "Because I know what it's like to carry something the world wants to break. You're not the only one with scars."
She pulled back her sleeve, revealing a burn scar running from her wrist to her elbow—old, faded, but jagged.
Kael reached out, then stopped. "What happened?"
"I refused to kill someone who couldn't defend themselves. The Flame Court said mercy was weakness." She looked at him. "They were wrong."
He wanted to say something—anything—but his throat tightened. Instead, he offered a quiet, "Thank you."
The silence between them wasn't awkward—it was understanding.
That night, Kael stood in the training pit, firelight reflecting off the walls. He breathed deeply, centering himself.
"Feel the flame," Nyra instructed. "Not with fear. With purpose."
Kael extended his palm. The fire sparked to life, golden and alive.
The phoenix flame was his now.
And tomorrow, the training would begin.