The forest didn't whisper that morning.
It held its breath.
I felt it the second I opened my eyes—something beneath the earth had shifted. The wind had changed direction. And the wards Thalen kept carved into the windows hummed low, like they were warning us of something they didn't recognize.
Thalen was already outside when I stepped out, barefoot and cloaked, the damp moss biting at my skin. His posture was still, but alert—one hand resting casually near the hilt of his blade. Not drawn. Not yet.
He didn't look at me.
—The outer ring pulsed —he said.
—Anything break through?
—Not yet. But something crossed it. Something the forest didn't push back.
That meant one thing.
Velharis didn't let strangers in without blood.
My pulse stayed calm, but the fire under my ribs stirred.
—I'll get my knife.
—Too late.
I looked up just as the mist parted near the treeline.
A figure emerged from the haze like he'd been carved out of it—tall, lean, coat torn at the shoulder, blood soaking one sleeve. His hair, dark as a stormcloud, hung loose at the temples, the rest pulled back in a knot that had mostly come undone.
And his eyes—sharp, grey, and already locked on mine—hadn't changed at all.
Kael Veyr.
I didn't move. Not toward him. Not away. Just stared as he approached like the wards hadn't tried to stop him. Like he knew they wouldn't.
He stopped ten paces away.
Then, casually—like this was a reunion and not a violation—he smirked.
—Still staring like you want to kill me.
—Still showing up like you know I won't.
He tilted his head.
—You haven't changed.
—You have.
—Liar.
I took a slow step forward, arms crossed.
—You bled on my forest.
—She didn't seem to mind.
Behind me, Thalen's hand flexed over his sword.
Kael's gaze flicked to him.
—Relax. If I came to kill her, I'd have done it before she woke up.
—Not helping your case —I muttered.
Kael's eyes slid back to mine, more serious now.
—You've felt it, haven't you? The way the ground listens now. The way the sky watches.
—That's vague, even for you.
—Then I'll be clear. If you're really waking up... the realms need to know.
The silence after that wasn't silence at all. It was a question neither of us wanted to answer.
Thalen stepped between us, not touching me, but shielding all the same.
—Who told you she was here?
Kael didn't blink.
—I told myself. Been watching the wards for weeks. They flared two nights ago. Like someone finally lit the match.
His eyes found me again. This time, there was no smirk.
—I knew it was you.
I didn't look away.
—What do you want?
He shrugged, wounded arm still hanging at his side.
—Truth. Fire. Maybe a drink.
—You came through the glade. No one walks that path without a mark.
—I was marked a long time ago.
That made Thalen's jaw tense.
—I should've buried you the last time.
Kael smiled like it was a compliment.
—And yet here I am.
—You should leave.
—Too late for that.
I stepped forward.
—Why now?
Kael's eyes met mine—and this time, the mask cracked. Just a little.
—Because Eryan's speaking your name in rooms you've never walked into. And if he gets there first, he'll decide who you are before you do.
The fire in my chest coiled.
I hated that he was right.
I hated that he knew me well enough to say it out loud.
Kael nodded toward the blood on his arm.
—Do you mind if I bleed somewhere less poetic?
—I mind —Thalen growled.
—She doesn't —Kael said, already walking past him.
And gods help me.
He was right again.
Later, while I unrolled a fresh bandage. His coat lay discarded on the floor, the blood-soaked sleeve already stiff. The gash along his upper arm wasn't clean, but it wasn't deep enough to kill him.
Unfortunately.
He watched me work in silence for a while, the flicker of firelight catching the edge of his expression—unreadable, like always.
—You going to tell me how this happened? —I asked.
—Politics.
—Bleeding's not usually part of diplomacy.
He smirked. A tired one.
—You haven't been to Aurealis lately.
I tightened the bandage without warning. He didn't flinch.
—Start talking.
He let out a quiet breath and leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
—Eryan's gathering people. Not just allies. Nobles. Scholars. People who still believe in the old bloodlines. He's been whispering about a prophecy—spinning it to make himself the center of it.
—And you?
—I didn't spin. I questioned. In public.
—And they tried to kill you for it?
—One of his men did. A councilman from House Elion. Blade in the side alley after a meeting.
—Classic.
—Elegant, even. No questions asked when someone like me bleeds in Aurealis.
I studied him a moment.
Kael didn't carry himself like a victim. He looked like a man who knew exactly how far someone would go to silence him—and chose to speak anyway.
—Why would Eryan care about the prophecy now? He never believed in it before.
Kael's jaw tensed slightly.
—Because your name is surfacing. Old records. Faded lineages. Rumors that the flame didn't die with the last war. He knows something's stirring. He doesn't know it's you yet—not for certain—but he suspects. And if he names you before you step forward...
He didn't finish.
He didn't have to.
—He gets to decide who I am —I said.
Kael nodded once.
—And the world will believe him.
I looked down at the wound, then reached for the salve. His blood had dried at the edge, black and flaking like ink.
—So, what—he wants to claim me? Marry into the flame? Use me?
—All of it. And if he can't have you, he'll burn the idea of you to the ground before you ever get to speak.
That wasn't surprising. But it still made my chest tighten.
—And you?
—I'm not interested in fire, Maeryn. I've had enough of it for ten lifetimes.
—Then what are you interested in?
Kael met my eyes, not smug, not charming—just steady.
—Balance. Truth. And maybe making sure he doesn't ruin the world while pretending to save it.
There it was.
The divide between them.
Kael and Eryan were brothers—same blood, different everything else.
One polished, beloved by nobles, all gold and grace and hollow smiles. The other exiled, whispered about, marked as unstable. "Dangerous".
I didn't know the full story. No one did. But the tension between them had always felt deeper than rivalry. Like one had taken something the other never forgave.
—When was the last time you saw him?
—Four months ago. He called me in front of the council and offered me a seat at his side.
—And you said?
—I laughed.
I applied the salve, slow and even.
—So now he wants you dead?
—He's not stupid. He just prefers silence over resistance.
I didn't speak for a moment, letting that settle.
—Why come here?
—I wanted to see if the rumors were true.
—And?
Kael looked at the bracer on my wrist. The runes still faintly glowed from earlier.
—They are.
He sat back again, resting against the wall. The tension in his shoulders didn't fade. If anything, it grew.
—Eryan will come looking. And when he doesn't find what he wants, he'll start tearing apart anything that looks like resistance.
—Which means Velharis is no longer off-limits.
—No place is.
I finished wrapping the bandage, tying it off with a sharp tug.
—You should rest. Thalen will have questions in the morning.
—I bet he will.
Kael stood, flexing the arm gently.
—You got good at this.
—Had to.
—You always do.
I didn't answer.
He didn't linger.
His presence in the cottage changed everything.
Not because I trusted him.
But because, for once, I believed him.
And that was worse.
Then, he lays across the bench like he was here on vacation.
One arm tucked under his head, the other wrapped in bandage, and his boots—muddy and arrogant—propped up like he owned the place.
—I thought exile made people humble —I said from the doorway.
He opened one grey eye.
—I wasn't exiled. I was "strongly encouraged" to disappear. With flair.
—So, exile with extra drama?
—I prefer the term elegant evacuation.
I rolled my eyes and leaned against the wall.
—You're getting blood on the cushion.
—Then it matches the atmosphere. Cozy.
He shut his eye again, but I could tell he wasn't sleeping. The smirk tugging at his mouth was proof enough.
—You look different —he said, like the thought just slipped out.
I didn't answer.
—The black streaks in your hair —he added. —They were always there?
—They're natural.
—Huh.
He opened both eyes again and studied me more closely.
—I thought you dyed them back when we met. You know, to be edgy. Fit the tortured flame aesthetic.
—Sorry to disappoint.
—You haven't. It works. Aggressive... but weirdly majestic.
—You're terrible at compliments.
—I'm doing my best with limited blood volume.
I sat on the edge of the table and crossed my arms.
—How long's it been?
Kael stared up at the ceiling.
—A little over four years since we crossed paths at the Thareon Summit. You were all fire and sharp words. Tried to punch a diplomat from Aurealis.
—I did punch him.
—Right. He insulted your boots.
—They were nice boots.
—They were hideous. But I respected the violence.
I raised a brow.
—That's how you remember us meeting?
—I remember being told to "keep an eye on the girl with too much fire and no filter." Thought they were exaggerating.
—And?
—They were not.
I leaned back on my hands.
—I barely noticed you.
—That's a lie. I was wearing a mask and still outshone everyone there.
—You tripped on your cape.
—It was a tactical stumble.
I smirked, just a little.
—I heard you were assigned to guard the summit, not socialize.
—Guarding gets boring. You were interesting.
—You were irritating.
—See? Perfect balance.
His eyes flicked toward me again, lingering a second longer than they should've.
—Your eyes are different now.
—Different how?
—Sharper. Brighter. Like the fire finally made peace with you.
I didn't know what to say to that, so I said nothing.
Kael shifted to sit up, resting his arms on his knees.
—I've been around flamebearers before. Most of them burn out before they can learn how to use what's inside them. You didn't.
—Yet.
He nodded.
—Yet.
The silence between us settled—not heavy, not tense. Just present.
Then:
—How many tattoos now?
I blinked.
—What?
—You've always had a few. But I saw the new ones.
—You were bleeding when you walked in. Are you sure you saw anything?
—You underestimate my priorities. Let me guess—runes of protection? Ancestral fire? Deep metaphors for identity?
—One's literally just a knife in a circle.
Kael grinned.
—Ah, the classic "stab me and die" symbol.
—Close. It's the "get close and regret it" sigil.
—I like it. What else?
—Flame sigils. One that Thalen says predates modern dialect. I don't remember why I got that one.
—Or maybe it remembers you.
I glanced at him.
—You're poetic when you're losing blood.
—I'm poetic all the time. You just don't listen.
—Because most of what you say is nonsense.
Kael stood up slowly, stretching his arms with a wince.
—You're just mad I said your hair looked aggressive.
—It's always looked like this.
—I know. That's why it's iconic.
He stepped toward the window, then paused.
—You're not hiding anymore, Maeryn. Whether you like it or not, this... fire? It's awake. And people are going to come looking for it.
—Then let them.
He turned back to me, grey eyes steady.
—They won't come politely.
—Neither will I.
That earned a nod. Not of approval. Just understanding.
Kael headed toward the bench again, dragging his coat behind him.
—You're different, but not unfamiliar.
—You're the same, but not comforting.
—Perfect.
I grabbed the empty water jug and tossed it his way. He caught it one-handed.
—Good night, Veyr.
—Good night, flame hazard.
The next morning was quiet.
Not soft, not peaceful—just quiet, in that brittle way right before something cracks. Mist still clung to the forest line, and the sky hadn't fully decided whether it wanted to rain or not.
I stepped out early to gather herbs before Thalen noticed we were low.
By the time I returned, Kael and Thalen were alone in the cottage.
The door was slightly open.
I didn't mean to listen, but I did.
Inside, the tension had settled like dust. Thick. Unmoving.
Kael sat at the table, drinking tea he definitely hadn't made. Thalen stood near the hearth, arms crossed, his jaw so tight it looked carved.
—You're lucky I didn't bury you in the glade —Thalen said flatly.
Kael didn't look impressed.
—You could've tried. Again.
Thalen didn't rise to the bait.
—You showing your face here was reckless.
Kael took another sip, unbothered.
—I've been called worse.
—You risked drawing attention to this place.
—If I hadn't come, Eryan would've reached her first.
That shut Thalen up—just for a breath.
—He doesn't know it's her.
—Yet. But he's not stupid. He's circling the right names. The right bloodlines. It's only a matter of time.
Thalen narrowed his eyes.
—And you suddenly care?
—About her?
Kael set the mug down, calm.
—More than you'd like. Less than you assume.
—So what is this, then? Some noble gesture? You don't do those.
—Correct. This is strategy.
—She's not a strategy.
—She's a target. One way or another. I'd rather she be prepared for it than used by it.
Thalen's silence was louder than shouting.
Kael went on.
—I've seen what Eryan does to people he can't control. I've seen what he does to people he thinks he can. He'll twist the flame into something pretty, something palatable. Parade her around like a symbol while he rots the core from the inside out.
—And you're the solution?
Kael tilted his head.
—I'm the interruption.
Thalen stepped forward.
—You trained in manipulation under his roof. Don't pretend to be clean.
—I'm not. But I know the rules. She doesn't. That makes her dangerous—and vulnerable. I'm offering balance.
Thalen's expression shifted, just slightly. Something between anger and bitter memory.
—You never do anything without a backdoor plan.
Kael stood slowly, wrapping his coat around his shoulders.
—I don't expect you to trust me. Honestly, I'd be worried if you did.
—Then why are you here?
Kael walked toward the door—toward me—and paused just before stepping through.
—I'm here because she's not the only one waking up.
He didn't say anything else. He didn't need to.
He opened the door, saw me standing just outside, and gave the faintest smirk.
—Eavesdropping, Ryn?
—You're loud for someone trying to be subtle.
—Says the girl with leaves in her hair.
I shoved past him, brushing the herbs against his coat on purpose.
Inside, Thalen didn't look at me. He just kept staring at the fire like it owed him answers.
I didn't ask what they talked about.
But I felt the heat between them, simmering just beneath the surface.
And I knew this wasn't over.
Not even close.
By midday, the cottage felt too small.
Every corner was too quiet, too familiar. Every breath felt like it echoed off the walls. Thalen sharpened his blade without speaking. Kael leaned against the porch like he'd always belonged there. I moved between them like smoke, saying nothing, but feeling everything.
The space between them wasn't just tension. It was history.
And I was done standing in it like a bystander.
I stepped outside and dropped the bunch of dried herbs on the table. Loud enough to make both of them look up.
—Alright. Enough.
Kael raised a brow.
Thalen didn't move.
—I'm tired of watching you two glare at each other like bored wolves. If we're going to survive whatever's coming, I need more than silence and sharpened looks.
Kael opened his mouth. I cut him off with a glare.
—No sarcasm. Not today.
He held up his hands in mock surrender.
Thalen finally spoke.
—What are you asking?
—That we stop pretending this place can hold back the storm.
I looked between them.
—You've both seen what I am. What I'm becoming. And I'm not doing this half-awake anymore.
Kael crossed his arms.
—So?
—So you're both going to help me. Whether you like it or not.
Thalen studied me. Not with doubt—but with something heavier.
Like pride he didn't want to admit.
—Training's not a game, Maeryn.
—I'm not asking for games. I'm asking for the truth. The kind that breaks bone if you're not ready for it.
Kael tilted his head.
—That sounds painful.
—Good.
Neither of them spoke right away. The wind passed through the trees behind us, pulling the mist into long ribbons. Somewhere deep in the woods, something called once. Then nothing.
Thalen stood.
—You'll train at dawn. We start with control. Runic breathing. Anchoring flame to form.
—I want combat too.
—You'll get it. If you survive the first three days.
Kael stepped off the porch.
—And me?
—I want strategy. Politics. All the things I wasn't taught because someone thought I'd stay in the woods forever.
He gave a slow, dramatic bow.
—Flame and manipulation. A beautiful pairing.
—Don't get poetic.
—No promises.
We stood there for a moment, the three of us. A strange triangle of fire, shadow, and old scars.
—I won't be controlled —I said.
Kael met my eyes, serious now.
—And I won't try to.
Thalen said nothing.
But he didn't object.
That was enough.
I turned toward the woods, the air around me already shifting. Not reacting to rage. Not fear. Just choice.
And that was new.
The world was waking.
So was I.
And I wasn't going to wait for it to name me. I'd name myself.