Flameborn: Heir of the Ember Throne

By dusk, the whole vibe had shifted. You could feel it, like static prickling your skin—Kael caught it before anything else, not with his senses exactly, but just under his ribs. The air was pulled tight, tense, like the world was holding its breath and waiting for the punchline.

No birds, no bugs—nothing but the hush that creeps in before all hell breaks loose.

Except this wasn't some storm rolling in. Nope. This was something—or someone—coming after them.

He and Lyra had been moving since the crack of dawn. No breaks, no time for conversation, just the crunch of boots over red dirt and busted-up gravel. The land kept rolling out—hills on hills, gold turning rusty in the low sun, shadows crawling along like they had somewhere to be. They kept quiet, not because they were mad or anything, but because loose lips get you dead out here.

Lyra—man, she was all business. Every step was deliberate, and she didn't waste a single motion. Kael tried to keep up, but he was dragging. He wouldn't admit it, though. Not with that furnace burning under his skin, the one that started back at the mine. The heat was still there, hiding, waiting for its moment. Like a wolf lurking in the brush.

And this word, this damn word, kept bouncing around his skull.

Flameborn.

He hated how it stuck to him. Not a blessing, not even really a curse. More like being handed a script to a bloody play you never agreed to join. The kind of story where you're already doomed before you even show up on the page.

Lyra finally broke the silence. "You keep looking over your shoulder," she said, voice all calm and measured while she fiddled with the bow slung across her back.

"They're on our tail," Kael muttered, eyes fixed dead ahead.

She didn't roll her eyes or quiz him. Just stopped, closed her eyes, and pulled in a slow breath through her nose.

Couple seconds ticked by.

Then she snapped her eyes open. "Smoke. South ridge. That's not a campfire."

Kael turned. There it was—smoke, thick as tar, smeared across the horizon. Too lazy to be wind, too wide to be anything natural. The kind of smoke that meant trouble.

"Not an accident," she said, low. "They're herding us in."

And then that fire inside him, it perked up. Not flaring out, just... getting ready. Like it was tasting the air, too.

"They know I'm here," he said, and his voice sounded weird to his own ears.

Lyra just nodded. "You blew up a mine shaft, Kael. That's a hell of a beacon."

He clenched his fists. Heat sizzled out between his fingers. "You said they'd come."

"Shadowbrand," she spat, like the word tasted rotten. "They don't march or shout. They're ghosts. The Empire sends them to wipe people out, not drag 'em back in chains."

Kael gritted his teeth. The air around his hands shimmered with heat.

Lyra stepped closer, her face inches from his. "Get a grip."

"I'm trying."

"Try harder. Fire without control is just a fancy way to die."

They hustled, cutting over the slope toward an ugly wound of a ravine. The ground turned dark and slick, roots sticking out like the bones of something long dead. Fog curled around their boots, thick and old, like it'd been waiting for centuries. Breathing felt heavy here. Like the ground remembered things.

Down at the ravine's bottom, twilight was taking over. The sky was this weird copper, slashed with blood-red clouds. Everything was still. Moss and rain—old rain—hung in the air.

Kael stopped by a hunk of rock with a face carved into it. Time had eaten away the features, but the thing still stared him down. Something about it felt alive. Sleeping, maybe, but not gone.

He reached out, touched the stone. It pushed back with a pulse of warmth—recognition, not fire. Then the breeze flipped.L

Lyra whispered, "Down."

Kael dropped, heart slamming against his ribs. A weird, not-right hum ripped through the quiet. The mouth of the ravine shimmered, air twisting like a heat mirage.

And then something stepped out.

A figure, pulling itself from the smoke. Not covered by it—made from it. Skin white as bone, eyes circled in black ink spirals, no armor Kael recognized. Just this slick, matte suit with a single black band across the chest.

That Shadowbrand mark.

Kael barely breathed.

The guy paused, sniffed the air—twice, like a wolf.

And then he spoke, voice soft but carrying.

"He is near."

Another shape kind of flickered in behind him—taller, sharper around the edges, her hair done up in these tight braids, black as midnight. Eyes like burning glass, honestly. A woman, yeah. She just sort of scanned the place, way too calm for comfort, and then broke the silence.

"The ember flared here. I felt its heartbeat."

Kael's heart hammered. Whatever he had burning inside, it was practically screaming now.

Lyra leaned in, whispering so quietly he barely caught it. "We can't take both. Not here. Not now. Too open. Too close."

Kael just stared at the pair. Didn't say a word. Brain totally blank.

Finally: "So…what do we do?"

"I distract. You run."

He snapped his head toward her, eyebrows somewhere in his hairline. "No way."

"You're the one they want," she replied. And that was that, apparently.

"They'll kill you to get to me."

She just shrugged, smirked a little. "Let 'em try. Not like I haven't survived worse."

The fire in Kael practically exploded—protective, reckless, all that hero stuff. "There's gotta be another way."

She was already shaking her head. "Not this time."

While she was talking, her hand ducked into her satchel and came out with this little glass sphere, runes all over it, glowing soft in the gloom.

She caught his gaze. "Don't waste your head start."

Then she squared up, straightened her shoulders.

"Hey! Smoke suckers!" she yelled, voice bouncing off the rocks.

Both hunters whipped around, caught off guard.

Lyra chucked the sphere. It burst midair, sharp as breaking bone.

What came next wasn't fire. It was just—light. Blinding, pure, like a star had gone off right there in the ravine. Everything—rocks, fog, even the air—went white. The hunters reeled, totally blinded.

Kael flinched, eyes squeezed shut. When he opened them? Utter chaos.

And Lyra was gone.

No thinking. No planning. He bolted—roots grabbing at his boots, branches whipping his face, scrambling up the slope and into the trees. His insides burned, lighting his way, some kind of sixth sense on overdrive.

Behind him: nothing. Not a sound.

Somehow, that was worse than screams or shouts.

Shadowbrand didn't chase like wolves. They moved like ghosts.

Kael just kept running. No looking back, not even with his lungs on fire. Forest got thicker, shadows pressed in. Minutes or maybe hours slipped away.

Eventually he just crashed at the base of some ancient tree, chest heaving. Moss broke his fall, but his head spun. His veins lit up, flickers of fire dancing underneath his skin.

He'd left her. Just gone.

He should've stayed. Should've fought.But honestly? What could he do? He barely knew who—or what—he was.

Then—footsteps. Soft, measured. Getting closer.Kael forced himself up, hands blazing with flame.

Not Lyra.

The woman from before, stepping into the light, smile curling. Her eyes mirrored the fire in his palms, which was…unsettling.

"Found you," she said, like she'd just won a game.

Fear twisted up into anger. Kael hurled fire—liquid gold, lighting the place up like a bonfire gone mad.

She was faster. Like smoke, she weaved around it, vanished, popped up behind him. Something icy pressed against his throat.

Not a blade. Shadow.

"Gutsy," she whispered, breath colder than winter. "But wild power's just noise."

The pressure increased. "Say the word," she breathed. "Go on. Admit your kind still lives."

"I'm not—"

"Say it," she bit out, sharper this time. "Say it."

Heat rushed through his chest—but not the usual kind.A pulse. Like a bell, ringing through his whole body.The shadow jerked back.She stumbled, eyes wide with shock.

Kael spun.

The trees behind her blazed—not with fire, but with runes. Dozens, maybe more, glowing in the bark and air, all tangled together in some arcane web.

A trap.She tried to react, but too late.

The runes exploded with a crack of light.

It slammed into her, pinned her mid-step. She screamed—not pain, just pure rage—as the glyphs wrapped tight around her, thorny and bright.

Kael turned, heart hammering.

Lyra limped out of the woods, beat up and bleeding, sparks flicking off her fingertips.

"Gods, I hate being right," she muttered, half-falling.

Kael rushed over. "You came back."

She managed a crooked grin. "You think I'd let a legend die on my shift?"

Both of them faced the woman, who glared daggers from inside her glowing chains.

"You don't even know what you are," she spat. "But the whole world's gonna burn for it."

Kael stepped up, voice steadier than he felt. "Nah. The world's gonna change."

And this time, the fire inside him didn't come from fear. It was slow. Calm. Ready.

His, at last.