The forest wasn't gentle at dawn.
Neither was Thalen.
—Up.
That was all he said. No greeting. No breakfast. Just the word, sharp as frost.
I dragged myself out of bed and found him already waiting at the edge of the clearing, hood pulled up, blade strapped to his back like he expected war. He didn't glance at me when I joined him.
—No flame today —he said.
—Why?
—Because you don't control your breath yet.
I blinked.
—I'm breathing fine.
—No. You're surviving. There's a difference.
Before I could argue, he turned and started walking.
I followed, barefoot and annoyed, through low mist and damp roots, until we reached a flat, open patch of earth lined with stones and carved symbols half-swallowed by moss.
—I'm not doing spells at sunrise —I muttered.
—You're not doing anything until you stop moving like a runaway.
That shut me up.
He gestured to the center of the circle.
—Stand.
I stepped into the middle. The ground was colder than I expected. Still dew-wet. I exhaled, rolled my shoulders.
Thalen circled me like a hawk.
—Close your eyes.
—If you hit me, I swear to—
—Breathe, Maeryn.
I shut my eyes.
Silence wrapped around me.
Not peaceful. Not serene.
Just still.
—Match your breath to the rhythm of your pulse —he said. —Nothing more.
That sounded easy. It wasn't.
My mind flicked like a flame in wind: What if Kael was watching from the porch like a smug shadow? What if the forest reacted again? What if I failed and Thalen said nothing?
I couldn't find the rhythm.
I clenched my fists.
Thalen's voice again, soft but cutting.
—You keep clinging to your anger like it's a weapon.
—Because it is.
—No. It's a crutch.
I opened my eyes.
—You want me calm? You should've raised me in a meadow.
—You were born in fire. Control it. Or you'll burn with it.
The words stung.
Not because they were harsh.
Because they were true.
He stepped back.
—We try again.
I bit the inside of my cheek and closed my eyes once more. This time, I listened. Not to the forest. Not to him. Just to myself.
I found the beat.
Slow. Hot. Steady.
Not perfect—but there.
I held it.
For seconds.
Then minutes.
My legs started to shake.
Thalen didn't move.
The silence grew heavier.
The air thickened.
I swayed once, caught myself, then swayed again—and fell.
Knees to dirt. Hands out. Breath shattered.
Thalen didn't help me up.
—Get used to falling —he said. —The fire doesn't care about pride.
I stayed there, palms stinging, heart pounding.
But I was still breathing.
And I hadn't called the flame once.
That had to count for something.
I sat up, brushing soil from my legs.
—Again?
Thalen's eyes met mine.
For the first time, he looked satisfied.
—Again.
---
Kael's idea of training wasn't training.
It was theater.
—Sit like you belong on a throne —he said, dragging a rickety wooden chair into the center of the clearing.
—That chair has three legs.
—So does half the Aurealis council. Sit.
I sat. Reluctantly. Wrong posture, apparently.
Kael circled me with a piece of parchment in one hand and an empty teacup in the other, like a noble hosting a war meeting made of pretend.
—You're a diplomat from Thareon. You're here to convince a corrupt Aurealis official to share border intelligence while pretending not to know he poisoned your family. Go.
—What?
—Go. Talk to me.
—I'm not—
—Wrong. You're already dead. Poisoned. Try again.
I groaned.
—This is stupid.
—This is survival. You think strength wins wars? Try politics. It's slower, messier, and much more personal.
—I have no idea what you want me to say.
—Good. That's where everyone starts. Now bluff your way through it or embarrass yourself.
I leaned forward.
—What's your name?
Kael grinned.
—Lord Veyric of House Sevaniel.
—Do you often poison the daughters of people you owe alliances to, Lord Veyric?
—Only when they ask the wrong questions with the right tone.
—How's this for a tone?
—I'd say you sound like someone who just confessed to premeditated murder in a diplomatic meeting.
—I'd say you're about five seconds from a dagger in the ribs.
—Then I'd say we've entered round two of negotiation.
He was having far too much fun.
—Why is this relevant to me lighting things on fire?
Kael dropped into the grass beside the broken chair.
—Because your enemies will talk before they fight. And if they talk well enough, you won't even see the blade coming.
—That's dramatic.
—That's experience.
I narrowed my eyes.
—You've played this game before.
Kael shrugged.
—I used to pretend to be useful to powerful people. Smiled at the right dinners. Said nothing in the wrong rooms. Got very good at being underestimated.
—Until you weren't?
—Until I said something real.
The silence that followed didn't last long.
He stood suddenly and tossed me the parchment.
—Next round. You're the Aurealis noble now.
—I hate this already.
—Perfect. Use it. Let the disgust feed your elegance.
I cleared my throat.
—State your business, ambassador.
Kael bowed low, mock-formal.
—I bring word from the Eastern Fire Clans.
—I don't believe you.
—Then I suppose I'll have to convince you.
—With what? More lies?
—No. With promises I have no intention of keeping.
I blinked.
—That's terrifying.
—That's diplomacy.
I dropped the parchment into the dirt.
—We're done here.
Kael flopped down on the grass again.
—You're a natural.
—I wanted to kill you the entire time.
—That's the appropriate response. You passed.
—That wasn't a test.
—They never are.
I stared at him for a second.
—I don't know how to be like them, Kael.
—Good.
—Then why teach me?
He met my eyes, finally serious.
—Because even if you don't play their game... you need to know how it works. So you can break it properly.
I didn't answer. Not out loud.
But I understood that, and I hated that I did.
Later that day, after doing absolutely nothing, I left the clearing to cool down and overthink everything.
When I came back, I didn't expect to find Thalen and Kael… civil.
They were at the table. Kael lounging like the chair owed him something, Thalen sitting upright, arms crossed, mug in hand. Between them: steam, silence, and the kind of tension you could slice with a dagger and still not hit bottom.
—I missed the duel, didn't I? —I said, stepping inside.
Thalen didn't look at me.
—We were civilized.
Kael sipped from a cup that didn't belong to him.
—It was painful.
I dropped into the third chair.
—You made tea?
—Thalen did —Kael said. —It tastes like burnt leaves and judgment.
—I could put something in it to shut you up —Thalen offered.
Kael raised his mug in mock salute.
—Already tastes poisoned. Go ahead.
I looked between them.
—So this is what we're doing now? Magical bootcamp in the morning, sarcasm and passive aggression in the afternoon?
Kael shrugged.
—We're a team. A very dysfunctional team.
Thalen stared into his cup like it held the will to kill.
—You're both exhausting —I muttered.
—That's how you get stronger —Thalen replied without looking up.
Kael tilted his head.
—When I first met Thalen, he had longer hair and slightly less murder in his eyes.
—I was undercover —Thalen muttered.
—You were in a bar fight over stale bread.
—I won.
—I was nineteen. I thought you were a myth.
—And now?
—I still think you're a myth. Just one with worse taste in tea.
I blinked.
—You two have history.
Thalen gave me a look.
—We crossed paths.
Kael nodded, far too casually.
—He almost arrested me.
—You were trying to break into a restricted archive.
—I was doing research.
—You forged three seals and kicked a guard.
—I call that initiative.
I narrowed my eyes.
—What were you looking for?
Kael didn't flinch.
—Mentions of flamebearers. Fragments of prophecy. Records no one wanted to admit existed. I was... curious.
Thalen grunted.
—Curiosity gets people killed.
Kael met his eyes.
—So does silence.
I looked down into my mug, suddenly aware of the heat curling beneath my ribs.
—Why didn't you ever tell me back then?
Kael rested his arms on the table.
—Because it wouldn't have mattered. You weren't ready. And I wasn't trusted.
—Still aren't.
—Not trying to be.
They lapsed into silence again, but it felt different now. Less like a fight, more like a scar they'd both agreed not to poke too hard.
I broke it first.
—Is this going to be a thing now? The two of you playing cold war while I try to figure out how to not burn my fingers off?
Kael grinned.
—It builds character.
Thalen stood.
—Training at dusk. Don't be late.
He walked out without waiting.
The door shut behind him like a quiet warning.
Kael sighed and leaned back.
—He likes you.
—I'm still deciding how I feel about that.
—It's better than the alternative.
—You'd know.
Kael gave me a look.
—Touché.
I finished the tea. It was bitter. Grounding.
It tasted like fire just before it catches.
---
The ground was cold beneath my knees.
Thalen stood a few paces away, arms crossed, watching me like I was a fuse about to snap.
—Focus on the center of your palm —he said. —Breathe until the flame responds. Then hold it.
—What if it lashes out?
—Then you weren't focused enough.
Comforting.
I inhaled slowly, letting the breath travel down my spine, through my ribs. The familiar warmth stirred. First in my chest. Then behind my ribs. Then in my hand.
A flicker sparked across my palm—tiny, flickering gold with veins of red.
It danced. For a second.
Then hissed and vanished.
I exhaled sharply.
—Again —Thalen said.
I tried.
This time, it lasted two seconds before it flared too wide and burned my fingers.
I hissed, clutching my hand.
—You're overreaching. The fire doesn't care if you're angry. It wants balance.
—I don't have balance.
—Then find it.
I grit my teeth.
The third try lasted longer—long enough for the flame to stabilize, small and steady. It hovered just above my skin like it was breathing with me.
I didn't dare move.
Sweat slid down my neck. My muscles trembled. It took everything not to let it go.
And then:
—You look like you're about to explode —Kael's voice cut through the clearing.
The flame flared instantly and scorched my palm before winking out.
—Dammit! —I barked, flinging the heat off my skin.
Kael sauntered into view like he wasn't the problem.
—That was a compliment, in my language.
—Your language is nonsense.
Thalen didn't speak. His jaw was tight, his arms folded tighter.
—She was close —he said to Kael.
Kael blinked.
—Oh. Oops.
I stood, flexing my hand. The burn wasn't serious. But the failure was.
—You're not helping —I said.
Kael raised both hands, mock-innocent.
—Didn't know I had that effect on your fire.
—You have that effect on everything.
I turned to Thalen.
—Again?
He nodded.
I knelt once more. Closed my eyes. Found the center. Ignored Kael's presence. Ignored my anger. Ignored the sweat and ache and need to prove something.
I breathed.
The flame returned.
Smaller this time. Focused. Less like a wild thing, more like an extension of my breath.
I held it.
Ten seconds. Fifteen. Twenty.
It hovered like a pulse above my skin.
And then it flattened. Steady.
I opened my eyes.
Thalen nodded.
Kael actually looked impressed.
—Look at that —he said. —You didn't explode.
—Yet.
I let the flame die, slow and controlled.
My palm stung. But I didn't flinch.
—What now?
Thalen spoke first.
—Now you learn to move while holding it.
I arched a brow.
—Sounds easy.
—It's not.
Kael grinned.
—Oh good. I'll bring snacks.
I ignored him.
For once, the fire didn't feel like a threat.
It felt like a choice. And that? That was new.
The fire had barely cooled on my fingertips when Kael decided I needed a break.
Or, more specifically, that he was bored.
I was still catching my breath, sitting against a tree with my hand bandaged and my legs sore from holding stances, when he flopped down beside me and said:
—We should go into the city.
I gave him a look.
—Why?
—Because if we spend one more day in this forest, I'm going to start talking to moss like it's royalty.
—You already do.
Kael shrugged.
—Moss is a better conversationalist than Thalen.
I didn't argue. Mostly because I agreed.
He leaned in slightly.
—Come on. We'll make it quick. Velveran's just past the ridge. No one will recognize you. You wear a hood, I don't get stabbed, we pick up some things, eat weird street food, and come back before Thalen finishes brooding at a tree.
—I don't need supplies.
—Everyone needs supplies. And cinnamon bread.
I frowned.
—Thalen's going to say no.
Kael stood and brushed dirt off his coat.
—Which is why we're leaving now, while he's still occupied carving runes into his favorite rock.
---
Somehow, we made it.
Velveran wasn't a city in the traditional sense. It was carved into the cliffs near the edge of the eastern forest, hidden from outsiders by illusion wards and weather spells. No gates. No guards. Just fog, flickering lanterns, and layers of sound and light.
It smelled like magic, smoke, and warm sugar.
The streets twisted like a maze. Floating signs blinked overhead, advertising spell-ink, truth stones, fireproof boots, and something called "elixir to remember forgotten songs." Street performers juggled starlight. A man in a cloak sold cursed spoons. A mechanical bird recited poetry every time someone threw a coin into its mouth.
Kael walked like he belonged. People nodded at him or scowled behind his back.
—People know you here? —I asked.
—I owe almost no one money. Which is impressive.
I kept my hood up and my hand near one of the blades in my boot. Just in case.
We passed a stall where a woman was selling what looked like floating fire petals in jars. The vendor grinned at me and whispered something in a language I didn't recognize.
I kept walking.
Kael grabbed a paper-wrapped bundle from another stall and handed it to me.
—Bite.
—I don't take food from known liars.
—You'll want to make an exception.
I took a bite.
Flaky, hot, buttery with something sweet inside I couldn't identify but instantly loved.
—What is this?
—Technically, illegal in three regions. But delicious.
I rolled my eyes and kept eating.
Velveran was chaos. But good chaos.
The kind that made the world feel bigger than war and prophecy and whatever Eryan was planning in his golden tower.
I almost forgot I was hiding.
Until Kael stopped walking.
I looked up.
A glowing purple sign above a round wooden door blinked slowly.
The Wyrm's Tongue.
—I know that face —I said.
Kael took a step back.
—I am banned.
—From what?
—From lying.
—You can get banned from that?
—In this place? Yes. The tavern's bound with truthcircle magic. If you lie while drinking inside, your cup explodes. Sometimes your eyebrows do, too.
—Sounds like fun.
Kael gave me a flat look.
—It is not fun.
—I want to go in.
—Of course you do.
—You said this was about relaxing.
—This is the opposite of that.
—I'll buy the first round.
He groaned.
—This is how I die.
Inside, it was dim and warm. Purple lanterns hung from the ceiling like low-hanging moons. The bar smelled like honey and firewood. Everyone inside spoke in soft tones, like they didn't want to anger the enchantments.
We sat in a booth in the back. The second we touched the table, the air shimmered faintly.
—Truth circle's active —Kael muttered.
—I feel like I should say something profound.
—Don't. It'll backfire.
The bartender came by, said nothing, and set down two glowing red drinks. Kael looked at his suspiciously.
—Last time I drank this, I forgot how doors worked.
—You'll be fine.
We raised our glasses.
—To no lies —I said.
—To controlled chaos —he replied.
We drank.
It tasted like apples, clove, and something dangerous.
I felt it settle in my chest. Warm. Sharp. Honest.
Kael leaned back.
—So. First real drink in public as the world's most wanted future flamebearer. How does it feel?
I grinned.
—Like the beginning of something.
—Hopefully not an explosion.
—Only if you lie to me.
He held up his hands.
—Scout's honor.
—I don't believe for a second you were ever a scout.
He smirked.
—Told you. Smart girl.
We drank again.
And for once, the silence between us wasn't loaded, it was just… human.
We didn't mean to get drunk.
It just happened. The second drink was free — the bartender winked at me like she knew something I didn't — and Kael, being Kael, couldn't leave without trying the smoky blue one that promised "emotional clarity."
Spoiler: it delivered.
By the time we left The Wyrm's Tongue, the stars had started bleeding through the sky and Kael was very enthusiastically explaining why flame sigils should be engraved in spirals, not circles.
—It's about momentum —he insisted, gesturing wildly. —Circles are containment. Spirals are motion. If you want to bind something, sure. Use a circle. If you want to make it move, spiral.
—That sounds made up —I muttered, slightly flushed and definitely amused.
—It's not. I wrote a thesis on this once.
—You don't write theses. You make chaos and pretend it's research.
—That is so offensive. And only partly true.
We stumbled up the narrow trail toward the cottage, the trees leaning in like they were eavesdropping.
My hood had fallen back, and Kael's coat was dusted in some kind of glowing pollen from a flower he tried to sniff too closely in the market.
—You look like you lost a fight with a lantern —I said.
—You look like your hair caught fire and gave up halfway.
—It's called a natural streak, you unwashed dramatic.
He gasped, hand over his chest.
—Unwashed? This cloak cost more than your entire wardrobe.
—Which is sad, because it still smells like regret.
He shoved my shoulder lightly.
I shoved him back harder.
He grinned, took a step forward—then stumbled.
—Are you drunk? —I asked.
—No. I'm... balanced in a unique way.
—You're drunk.
—Says the girl who just insulted moss three times in a row.
—Moss deserves it.
By the time we reached the clearing, the cottage was dark.
Thalen had either gone to sleep or entered some meditative trance where he communicated directly with stones.
I was about to call it a night.
Until Kael turned to me and said:
—Bet I could still beat you in a fight.
I blinked.
—Now?
He shrugged, swaying slightly.
—Why not?
—I just burned my hand today.
—And I'm emotionally vulnerable. Let's do this.
I stared at him.
Then grinned.
—Fine. First one to fall has to make breakfast tomorrow.
—Deal.
We didn't use blades. Just movement.
Open space. Footwork. Instinct.
Kael lunged first—fast, but a little off balance. I dodged, spun, caught his wrist, and deflected. He recovered quickly, dropped low, tried to sweep my legs, but I hopped over it and slapped the back of his shoulder.
He turned, surprised.
—Did you just tap me?
—I did.
—Rude.
We circled.
This time, I struck first.
He blocked. Twisted. Overcommitted.
I saw the gap and ducked under his guard, slammed my forearm against his ribs, and kicked his ankle hard enough to knock him off center.
Kael staggered.
—Wait—
Too late.
He tripped over a tree root and landed flat on his back.
The clearing went still.
I stood over him, hair falling in my face, panting, flushed, absolutely glowing with satisfaction.
—Did I just win? —I asked, breathless.
Kael stared up at the stars.
—Unbelievable.
—I won.
—You cheated.
—I did not.
—You used tactics. That's practically cheating.
I doubled over laughing. Couldn't stop.
It wasn't graceful or polite. It was real.
Messy. Loud. Free.
Kael sat up, still looking vaguely horrified.
—You're never going to let this go, are you?
—Not in this lifetime.
He shook his head.
—You're a menace.
—And you got beat by a girl with a bandaged hand and zero sobriety.
—I hate everything.
—You love it.
Kael grumbled something about betrayal and breakfast.
I offered him a hand.
He took it.
We didn't say anything else as we walked back toward the cottage.
But I caught the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile before he turned away.
And I went to sleep feeling like maybe, just maybe, this could work.
---
I woke to the scent of burning.
Not mystical. Not magical.
Just pure, chaotic, culinary failure.
I dragged myself out of bed, half-dressed and wholly unprepared, and found Kael in the kitchen, armed with a frying pan and a war criminal's confidence.
An apron hung crooked across his chest. Smoke curled from the edges of something that may have once been food.
Thalen sat at the table with the expression of a man who had witnessed every sin known to humankind.
—Morning, sunshine —Kael greeted, like he hadn't single-handedly declared war on breakfast.
—What… is that? —I asked.
—Your reward for humiliating me in combat. You're welcome.
—That's a burnt offering to some forgotten god.
—That's victory, darling.
He plated it with flourish. It slid onto the dish like it wanted to escape the pan and the shame.
I sat, poked it with my fork. It made a crunching sound. The food. Not the fork.
—I think it's alive —I muttered.
Kael beamed.
—It wants it more than you. That's how you know it's breakfast.
Thalen groaned audibly.
—For the love of the old flame, just let me cook next time.
—No. This is my penance. You don't interrupt a man in the middle of a redemption arc.
I took a bite.
It was objectively terrible.
But it tasted like victory.
And I finished every bite.
----
And then after a long day, that night, the fire was low, the forest calm.
Kael was passed out on the rug like some fallen prince of sarcasm and poor decisions. Thalen had retired hours ago, probably carving runes in his sleep. I stepped outside into the hush of Velharis and knelt in the dirt.
The cold earth felt familiar. Solid.
I drew a rune.
Not from memory.
From instinct.
Crooked. Wild. Honest.
The moment the final line connected, it shimmered faintly—like it knew I'd meant it. Like it wasn't just a symbol anymore.
It was a beginning.
I rose, staring at the glow beneath the moss and starlight.
And for the first time since everything began, I said it out loud:
—Let them come.
A beat of silence followed.
Then:
—Great. She's talking to no one now. Classic descent into madness.
I didn't have to turn to know it was Kael.
He leaned in the doorway, shirt halfway off, holding a mug that probably used to have tea but now just had disappointment.
—That's it, guys —he said, voice dry. —She's cracked. Fire in the bloodstream, secret prophecy, full-blown forest schizophrenia.
—I was monologuing. It's different.
—Sure it is.
—I'm allowed dramatic flair. I earned it.
He raised the mug in salute.
—To our tiny, unstable firelord.
—Say that again and I'll light your cloak on fire while you're wearing it.
—Tempting.
I walked past him without another word, but I couldn't stop the grin tugging at my mouth.
Behind me, the rune still glowed, and I didn't feel afraid. Not anymore.