Everything had changed.
After Corthan's visit, the safehouse was no longer safe. Amara and Lucien moved east under nightfall, deeper into forgotten lands where the Spiral's reach hadn't corrupted the ley lines yet.
They arrived in Timișoara — an old Romanian city riddled with ruins from the Second Flame War. Quiet, cracked, and breathing with latent magic. This was where Madalena told them someone was waiting.
Another Flame-Bearer.
The first to answer the fire since Amara broke the cycle.
But she hadn't come to join.
She'd come to challenge.
Her name was Kaelen Vire.
Tall. Barefoot. Her skin shimmered like copper under moonlight, marked with old sigils carved into her arms — not tattoos. Burns. Ritual scars from another time. A warrior through and through.
Amara spotted her at the ruined citadel near the outskirts of the city, standing in a shattered circle of stone, watching the sky as if it might burn.
"You're late," Kaelen said as Amara and Lucien approached.
"You're armed," Amara replied, eyeing the twin axes strapped to her back.
Kaelen turned. Her eyes — violet, almost too bright — locked with Amara's.
"I was Flame-Born in the old rebellion," she said. "I died in chains. I came back when your light cracked the veil. But I didn't come to kneel."
Lucien stepped forward, tense. "We didn't ask for loyalty."
"Good," Kaelen said. "Because you won't get it."
Amara raised a brow. "You think I'm not the one meant to carry the Flame?"
Kaelen stepped into the stone circle.
"No," she said. "I think you burned it too fast. Magic doesn't want to be rewritten. You didn't free us — you unleashed something that was chained for a reason."
Amara felt the fire stir in her blood. "Then why are you here?"
Kaelen crossed her arms. "Because whether I like it or not… I felt the call. And I need to see with my own eyes if you're strong enough to lead what comes next."
"Then watch," Amara said. "But don't confuse leadership with permission."
Lucien smirked behind her. Kaelen narrowed her eyes.
Then the wind shifted.
A sharp pressure dropped over the citadel. The wards around them trembled.
Lucien turned. "We're being watched."
Kaelen pulled her axes without a word.
A flicker — high above — a figure watching from the broken tower. Robed. Silent. The Spiral sigil glowing on their chest, etched into their skin.
One of the new Circle.
Then — they vanished.
Kaelen lowered her weapon slowly. "They're tracking you."
"No," Amara said. "They're tracking all of us now."
Kaelen stared at her for a long beat.
Then she stepped back. "We'll speak again. Soon. But not here."
"Where are you going?" Amara asked.
Kaelen gave a faint grin. "To warn the others. You're not the only Flame waking up, Amara. And not all of them will want to follow."
She vanished in a blink of gold smoke.
That night, back in the shadows of the safehouse's underground chamber, Amara sat with Lucien in silence.
"She doesn't trust me," Amara said.
"She doesn't trust anyone," Lucien replied. "She's survived things we've only read about."
"I need to be more than a symbol," Amara whispered. "I need to be ready. For her. For Corthan. For whatever's rising."
Lucien was quiet for a moment. Then, gently:
"There's something changing in me, too."
Amara looked over sharply.
Lucien flexed his hand. Fire licked up his palm — but it was different. Colder. Not from the Flame. From somewhere deeper.
"Since the Nexus fell," he said, "something inside me has been... waking up."
Amara stepped closer, touched his chest.
"It's not from Nereza?" she asked.
He shook his head. "No. This is mine. But it's not Flame."
Amara stared at his hand — and saw it:
Black fire.
Not death.Not destruction.
Shadow.
Lucien met her eyes.
"I don't think I'm just the blade anymore."