Mist rolled over the hills like smoke from a dying fire.
Aria tightened her cloak around her shoulders as she and Kael crossed the jagged terrain beyond the Ember Vault. The entrance had been sealed behind them—buried again beneath the ruins of the palace garden. For now, it was safe. But that safety was temporary. Illusory.
Kael limped slightly, his wound bound but not healed. Aria had offered to sear it shut with flame, but he refused.
"You can burn the enemy, Aria," he'd said with a smirk. "Not your friends."
They hadn't spoken since. Not really. The silence between them wasn't awkward—it was filled with everything they both feared to say aloud. Zavien was alive. The Sovereign was watching. And somewhere across the kingdom, embers of old power flickered beneath layers of forgotten blood.
She glanced at Kael.
There were still lines of pain around his mouth, but his eyes were sharp, locked on the distance.
"We're close," he murmured.
"To what?" she asked.
He pointed beyond the ridge. "The first ember."
---
A Forgotten Village
The village was a whisper of what it once had been—charred buildings, collapsed homes, and vines climbing through skeletal remains of windmills. Aria's fire flickered in her palm, lighting their way as the fog thickened.
"Name?" she asked.
"Vareth Hollow," Kael said, crouching near a broken well. "Used to be a trading post. Fell during the first purge."
Aria's fingers traced a sigil carved into the stone well—ancient, Flameborn.
"They were here," she whispered.
"Generations ago," Kael said. "We don't know if any bloodlines remain."
"Then we find out."
She stepped past the crumbled buildings until she found a cellar hatch, half-buried under moss and soil. A simple lock sealed it. She burned it with a whisper.
The door creaked open.
Darkness greeted them.
---
The Watchers Below
Inside the cellar, light shimmered faintly across stone walls carved with glyphs. As Aria descended, Kael behind her, something shifted—power, coiled and waiting.
Then came the voice.
"Stop where you are."
The flame in Aria's palm flared.
A figure emerged from the shadows—hooded, lean, dagger in hand. Another followed. Then a third. All young. All marked.
"You carry fire," the first one said.
Aria straightened. "I am Flameborn."
"So were we," the girl said. "Until your people vanished. Left us to die."
Kael moved forward. "We didn't abandon you."
"You ran. You fell. And we buried our names in stone and silence."
Aria held out her hand, flame dancing harmlessly between her fingers. "We came to wake what was lost. To gather you. The Sovereign rises again—and he's taking those like you one by one."
The girl hesitated.
Then dropped the dagger.
"I'm Mira," she said.
"Aria," she replied. "This is Kael."
"They told stories about you," Mira said softly. "Said you were dead."
"I was."
---
Embers Rekindled
There were eight of them in total—descendants of the Hollow, children of fire who had lived in secret. Mira, the oldest, led them. Two boys—Rowan and Eli—watched Aria with a kind of haunted awe. The youngest, a girl named Kye, couldn't control her flame. She kept lighting the hem of her tunic on accident.
"We've kept the Vaults in dreams," Mira said. "Recited the old words, whispered the names of our ancestors. But we thought it was just myth."
"Not anymore," Aria said. "You're needed."
"Needed for what?"
She looked each of them in the eye. "War."
A hush fell.
Kael stepped forward. "We'll train you. Protect you. But we can't fight alone. There are more like you—hidden across the realm. We'll find them. You'll help us."
Mira nodded slowly. "We will."
---
A Fire Unseen
That night, Aria sat beneath a broken archway outside the cellar with Kye, showing her how to breathe with the flame—how to feel it instead of forcing it.
"It listens," Aria said, shaping a ball of flame in her palm. "It doesn't obey. Not unless you respect it."
Kye frowned, focusing. A small spark lit in her hand.
Then it fizzled.
"Try again," Aria said gently.
This time, it held.
Kye gasped, eyes wide. "I did it!"
"You did."
She looked up. "Will we win?"
Aria looked out at the fog. "We'll survive. That's the first step."
---
A Visitor in the Fog
Just before dawn, the fog thickened unnaturally. Kael stirred first, sword drawn.
Aria sensed it too—an old presence. Familiar.
She stepped outside, flame curling at her fingertips.
And then she saw him.
A man cloaked in ash-gray robes, with eyes like smoldering coals. His face was lined with age and scars. He carried no weapon. He didn't need one.
"Flameborn," he said.
"Who are you?"
"I am Daivon. Keeper of the Ember Orders. The one who never knelt."
Aria stepped closer. "We thought the Keepers were extinct."
"We went silent. But never extinct."
He looked behind her, at the children waking.
"You have found the first. There are more."
"Where?" she demanded.
He looked to the sky. "Where the stars burn blue, and the bones of kings rot in their beds. You must go north."
"To the Veiled Spires?"
He nodded.
Aria's blood ran cold.
That was Sovereign territory.
"Why help us?"
Daivon smiled, cracked and weary. "Because even fire must learn to burn quietly. Until the forest is dry."
He handed her a scroll sealed in red wax. "This will show you what remains. But beware—the Sovereign is hunting again. And this time, he has a seer."
---
Departure
They left Vareth Hollow at noon, the eight embers traveling in a tight formation behind Kael and Aria. Mira walked beside her, face grim.
"We don't trust easily," Mira said. "But we'll follow you."
"Don't follow me," Aria replied. "Stand with me."
As the group disappeared into the fog, the earth behind them shifted—stone sealing the cellar again, fire etching an ancient rune into the soil.
Aria didn't look back.
The war had already begun.