The storm outside intensified as the stranger stepped fully into the manor, shaking off the rain from his cloak. His presence alone felt like a weight pressing down on the room. Tall, with sharp cheekbones, piercing green eyes, and a scar running across his jawline, he carried an aura of ancient knowledge and barely-contained power.
Liana, still standing between the Blackthorn brothers, narrowed her eyes. "Who are you?"
The man bowed his head slightly. "I am Lysander. The Oracle's Shadow. The one who has protected the prophecy from falling into the wrong hands."
Riven crossed his arms. "Why now? Why reveal yourself only after all this time?"
"Because the seal has been broken," Lysander said grimly. "The moment Liana stepped into the cursed woods and encountered the forest wraith, the final lock shattered. She has awakened the old blood."
Darian's jaw tightened. "And what does that mean for her?"
Lysander's gaze moved to Liana, softer now. "It means she will begin to remember. Dreams. Voices. Powers she doesn't yet understand. But more importantly, it means that every cursed creature in the forgotten realms now knows she exists."
Liana swallowed hard. Her fingers curled at her sides. "And what happens if they find me?"
"They won't ask questions. They will try to either kill you or claim you."
Kieran slammed a hand on the table. "Then we keep her here. Protected."
Lysander shook his head. "You can try. But you won't be able to stop the pull. She will be drawn to the ruins. The Flame Temple. It's part of her bloodline. Part of the prophecy."
A long silence followed.
Finally, Liana spoke. "Then I'll go."
All three brothers turned to her.
"Liana, no," Riven said, stepping forward. "You're not ready."
"Then help me get ready," she said, voice steady. "If I'm the key to ending this curse, I won't hide. I want to fight."
A spark lit in Darian's eyes, a flicker of pride. "She has more fire than we thought."
Kieran rolled his eyes. "More trouble too."
Lysander stepped forward and handed Liana a worn, leather-bound book. "Start with this. It's your ancestor's journal. She was the first Flamebearer. Her blood runs in your veins."
Liana took it, and as her fingers touched the leather, a flicker of golden light burst from her palms.
Everyone froze.
"The Flame recognizes you," Lysander said with quiet reverence. "It has begun."
---
That night, sleep did not come easily. Liana sat by the fire in her room, the journal open in her lap. The pages were filled with elegant script, sketches of ancient runes, and warnings written in a language that somehow, she could now understand.
One entry chilled her to the bone:
If you are reading this, then the curse still lingers. The Flame is not a gift. It is a test. Fail it, and all you love will burn.
Just then, the candle beside her flickered wildly, though there was no wind.
A whisper, not from the book, but from the shadows.
"Come to us... Flamebearer..."
Liana snapped the book shut, heart pounding. She turned toward the window, and her breath caught.
A figure stood outside. Pale, wraith-like. Watching her.
She backed away slowly, but when she turned to the door—a note had been slipped underneath it.
She picked it up, hands trembling.
One word was written in blood-red ink:
RUN.
She gasped.
And then the glass shattered.
The wind howled through the Blackthorn estate as the storm outside mirrored the chaos unraveling inside.
"What do you mean, she's marked?" Riven's voice echoed through the chamber, rough and disbelieving. "You're not making sense."
The stranger—Elias, as he'd introduced himself—stepped forward, rain dripping from his cloak onto the marble floor. His features were partially hidden by the hood, but what little of his face Liana could see was sharp and haunted.
"I mean exactly that," Elias said evenly. "The moment I saw her, I knew. She bears the mark foretold by the old oracle—not just as the Bond-Breaker, but as the Flamebringer."
A beat of silence followed his words.
Kieran blinked, his smirk fading. "You're kidding, right? Flamebringer? That's just a legend told to scare us as kids."
Elias slowly peeled back his hood. His eyes were unlike anything Liana had ever seen—deep silver, glowing faintly, like moonlight trapped in crystal. "Does this look like a joke to you?"
Liana stepped forward. "What does the Flamebringer mean? What does it have to do with me?"
Elias's gaze softened as he looked at her. "You're the convergence point. Three bloodlines will intertwine, and from their union, the curse shall be undone—or reborn. But more than that… you possess something even the cursed spirits fear. The Flame. The divine spark. That's why they're hunting you."
The air seemed to thin.
Darian crossed his arms, his expression guarded. "Then why come here now? If you've known this all along, where were you when the forest spirit attacked her?"
Elias looked away, guilt flashing across his face. "I was following another lead. The rogue who bore your crest? He's not alone. There's a faction forming—rebels who believe the prophecy is a lie, that Liana will bring destruction instead of salvation. They're growing in number, and they're targeting her."
Kieran whistled under his breath. "Of course they are. Because our lives weren't complicated enough already."
Liana felt a chill travel down her spine. "So what do we do now? Wait for them to come back?"
"No," Elias said. "You train. You awaken the flame within you. And you prepare for war."
She laughed, the sound brittle. "I've never even been in a fight. How am I supposed to wield a flame I don't even understand?"
Riven walked to her side and placed a hand gently on her shoulder. "You're not doing it alone."
The brothers exchanged a glance. Whatever their differences, one thing was clear: they were united now. For her.
Suddenly, a deafening bang echoed outside the estate gates.
"What now?" Kieran muttered, pulling his twin blades from their sheaths.
A servant rushed in, breathless. "There's someone outside... a woman. She claims to be from the Flamekeeper Temple. And she says she's Liana's mother."
Everything froze.
Liana's heart stopped. "That's impossible. My mother died when I was a baby."
Riven was already moving toward the main doors. "Let's find out who this imposter is."
They opened the doors to the storm—and there she stood. A tall, regal woman draped in crimson and gold robes, flames flickering along the hem of her cloak but never burning the fabric. Her eyes locked on Liana, and something ancient stirred in her chest.
"My child," the woman said. Her voice rolled like thunder and soothed like honey. "I have come to awaken your true power."
Liana took an instinctive step back. The woman looked too much like her. The same cheekbones. The same strange birthmark near the collarbone.
Darian reached for his sword. "Who are you really?"
"I am Seraphine of the Flame. Keeper of the Bloodline. And yes—" she looked at Liana, tears brimming in her eyes. "I am your mother. I faked my death to keep you hidden. But now the Flame has chosen you, and I can hide no longer."
Kieran narrowed his eyes. "We're just supposed to believe that?"
Seraphine raised her hand.
The wind stopped. The rain froze midair. Lightning paused in the sky.
And in the silence, she said, "Then let me show you."
Flames erupted around them—not burning, but glowing with power. And in the fire, a vision formed: a battlefield. Liana stood at the center, her eyes blazing gold, the triplets behind her, their powers unleashed. Opposite them stood a shadow army… and at the front, a man wearing the same Blackthorn crest as Darian.
The vision vanished. The storm resumed. But no one could unsee what they'd just witnessed.
Liana stood in the doorway, shaking.
"That was the future, wasn't it?" she whispered.
Seraphine nodded. "One of many. Whether it ends in salvation or ruin... depends on what you choose next."
The doors slammed shut behind them, trapping them in the hall with more questions than answers.
But Liana knew one thing for sure.
Everything was about to change.