Part I: "The Ember's First Flame"
The week after the wolf's second appearance…
Something changed.
Kael felt it the moment he woke.
It wasn't dramatic — no glowing eyes, no flames bursting from his chest.
But things felt sharper.
The breeze brushing against the windows was too loud. The smell of breakfast hit his nose like it was inches away. And when he stepped out of bed, he moved faster than expected — nearly falling face-first into the dresser.
"What the…"
He caught himself, then held out his palm.
A faint warmth, like flickering embers in the hearth, glowed and vanished just as quickly.
It wasn't magic. Not yet.
It was instinct.
Outside, in the Ardyn yard…
Zevran watched Kael train again — blade in hand, sweat pouring, focus razor-sharp. His movements were quicker now. Cleaner. No wasted effort.
But his rhythm was… off.
Too reactive.
Too fluid for a boy his age.
"You feel it, don't you?" Zevran asked.
Kael slowed. "Feel what?"
"Everything."
Kael hesitated. "I thought I was imagining it."
"You're not. The first signs always come in the quiet moments. Then the world begins to move differently."
"Is that how it started for you?"
Zevran smirked. "For me? It started with a broken nose and a runaway goat."
Kael blinked. "Huh?"
"Don't ask."
Meanwhile, at the village entrance…
A cloaked figure rode through the gates of Deyrun, slow and silent atop a gray-scaled beast that looked like a lizard and a panther had a child. Its eyes were silver. Its movements unnatural.
The man behind the reins wore no crest, no sigil — but the air around him pulsed faintly with pressure. Like standing near a half-sheathed blade.
He passed by the stalls, eyes scanning casually.
Until he saw the Ardyn home.
And stopped.
"So," he murmured, "the rumors weren't false after all."
Back at the house…
Kael was halfway through a bowl of soup when Lyra burst in like a hurricane.
"KAEL. I NEED A FAVOR."
Kael looked up slowly. "I'm afraid to ask."
"You should be."
She dropped a crumpled piece of parchment on the table.
It was… a drawing. Terribly made. Looked like a turtle on fire.
"You're making a banner for my imaginary beast clan now?"
"Correction. Our clan."
"Lyra—"
"Listen," she sat down across from him, face serious. "People are starting to ask about you. Some kids say you're cursed. Others say you're a divine reincarnation of a flame spirit."
Kael blinked. "I'm… what?"
"It doesn't matter. We own the narrative now. Fire Clan. You're the first heir. I'm the founder. Mom's the treasurer."
"We have a treasurer?"
"Yes. Her name is 'ask dad for money.'"
That Night…
Kael lay awake again, the warmth in his chest slowly building.
But this time… it didn't stay faint.
It bloomed.
Heat pulsed through his arms, into his fingertips. His heart beat faster. His breaths shortened. And then—
CRACK.
The candle near his bedside flared wildly, the flame stretching a full foot upward before snuffing out entirely.
Kael shot up.
He wasn't afraid.
He was calm.
And outside his window — the wolf stood again. Closer than ever. No longer mist. Solid. Real.
"You are almost ready."
The voice wasn't a whisper.
It was a presence inside his mind.
The wolf's glowing eyes locked with his.
"When your flame calls… I will answer."
And then it vanished.
The Next Morning…
Kael trained harder than ever before.
Zevran watched, silent.
Seris watched too, her fingers gently tightening on a mug of tea.
Even Lyra stopped mid-joke when she saw him strike clean through the second post.
The one that had stood for years.
Elsewhere…
The cloaked scout sent word back to his commander:
"Target confirmed. Ember-wielding child exists. No confirmed crest, but early-stage bond activity detected. Recommend observation… and preparation."
The message vanished into flame — carried by enchanted courier.
And the winds shifted again.
Part II: "Fire in the Veins"
Morning. Again.
But this time — the warmth didn't fade.
Kael sat on the roof, the early rays of dawn brushing over his face. He was breathing slower than usual, not from peace, but to hold something back.
His hands were warm.
Not from temperature — but from the energy rising inside.
Every step he took now felt a little too easy. Every movement had a rhythm his body seemed to anticipate before his mind caught up.
Something had… unlocked.
"Kael!" Lyra's voice called from the kitchen. "Did you drink my mana milk again?!"
He didn't answer.
Because he realized… he had.
Accidentally.
And now?
He wasn't sure it mattered anymore.
In the training yard…
Kael stood in front of the third post.
Zevran had told him not to rush it.
Not to aim for progress just because he could feel himself changing.
But the itch in Kael's bones was getting harder to ignore.
He raised the wooden blade.
Breathe in.
Hold.
Release.
THWACK!
The post cracked down the middle — not split, but deeply carved. A diagonal gash now marred its front. Zevran looked up from sharpening his real blade.
He didn't smile.
Didn't praise.
Just nodded.
"Your instincts are catching up."
Kael lowered his weapon, sweat dripping.
"It's like… I already know the strike before I do it."
"That's not instinct," Zevran said, standing. "That's memory… of something deeper. Something awakening."
"Is it the wolf?"
Zevran turned to him fully.
"No," he said quietly. "Not yet."
Meanwhile… at school.
Instructor Pell stood before a class in full mental collapse.
"Lyra. Would you care to explain why half the students now believe you've started a fire-based revolutionary army?"
Lyra smiled. Innocently. Like she hadn't named every child in class "Flame Captain of Squad D."
"Inspiration, sir."
"Inspiration?"
"Kael cracked the second post."
The class gasped.
"He what?"
"Mmhm. I watched it happen. No dream. No exaggeration. No lies. Well… maybe just a little fire-colored sparkle around his eyes for effect."
"LYRA."
"What? Marketing is power."
Back in the Forest…
Kael sat by the stream, legs folded, breathing slow.
He hadn't told anyone about the candle. Or the third pulse he felt last night. Or the fact that sometimes, his heartbeat echoed back — like a second rhythm beating alongside his own.
He closed his eyes.
Step forward.
The voice again.
No — not voice.
Presence.
He opened his eyes.
The wolf stood on the water.
Not beside it.
Not on the bank.
On it.
Its paws didn't sink. The surface rippled slightly beneath it, as if respecting its weight.
Kael stepped forward.
The water didn't shift.
"You are changing."
"What is this?"
"The bond grows when the fire within no longer sleeps."
The wolf lowered its head.
"Name me."
Kael blinked.
"What?"
"To forge the path, you must give it form. A beast knows its truth by the name given by the soul it chooses."
Kael looked into those burning eyes. Thought of the fire in his chest. Of the stillness. The hunger. The quiet fury.
He thought of what the wolf meant to him.
"Emberfang," Kael whispered.
"Then I am Emberfang."
The wolf stepped forward once… and vanished into fire.
And Kael?
He didn't fall.
He didn't collapse.
But his veins burned like molten gold.
That Night…
Zevran sat alone on the roof again.
He could feel it from here.
Kael was changing.
The bond was beginning.
Seris stepped beside him, wrapping a light shawl around her shoulders.
"He's glowing," she said.
"Not yet," Zevran muttered.
"Almost?"
He nodded once.
"The boy named the beast."
Elsewhere…
The scout stood atop a cliff outside Deyrun, looking down.
He turned to the small crystal communicator embedded in his wrist.
"Target has initiated first-stage link. Possible name confirmed: Emberfang. We recommend silent observation… until the second bond activates."
He paused.
"The dragon."