The Frostveil Plains stretched before Elias Woodmere like a frozen sea, its grasses brittle under a sky heavy with clouds. The cold bit at his exposed skin, seeping through his tattered cloak as he stumbled after Serina. Her silver hair glinted faintly in the moonlight, a beacon in the endless dark. She moved with purpose, her steps silent despite the crunch of frost beneath her boots. Elias, on the other hand, felt like a newborn foal, his legs unsteady from the chaos of the night.
Willow's End was already a speck on the horizon, its violet brazier a dying glow. The village had been his world—small, suffocating, but safe. Now it was a memory, burned away by shadows and the spark that had awakened in his palm. Elias's hand twitched, the faint warmth of that spark still lingering. It was both a comfort and a curse, a reminder that he was no longer just the talentless boy the village had mocked.
"Keep up, spark-boy," Serina called over her shoulder, her voice sharp but laced with her usual smirk. "Unless you want those shadows to use you as a chew toy."
Elias quickened his pace, his breath clouding in the frigid air. "Where are we even going?" he asked, his voice rough from exhaustion. "You said we needed to talk, but all we're doing is running."
Serina didn't slow down. "Running's the only thing keeping us alive right now. Those shadows weren't a one-off. They're hunting, and your little fire show back there? It's like ringing a dinner bell."
Elias's stomach twisted. "Hunting *me*? Why?"
She glanced back, her green eyes glinting with something between amusement and pity. "You really are clueless, aren't you? That spark of yours isn't normal. It's old, powerful. The kind of power that makes people—*things*—take notice. And trust me, spark-boy, you don't want to be noticed."
He wanted to argue, to say he was nobody, just Elias. But the memory of the shadow's yellow eyes, the way it had zeroed in on him, silenced his protests. And then there was Kaylin—his voice, his rage, his fire. Elias didn't understand it, but he couldn't deny it. The warrior's memories were part of him now, like a shadow he couldn't outrun.
They crested a low hill, the plains giving way to a sparse forest of gnarled, leafless trees. Their branches twisted toward the sky like skeletal hands, casting eerie silhouettes in the moonlight. Serina stopped abruptly, her hand raised in a silent command to halt. Elias froze, his heart pounding. The air felt heavier here, charged with a tension he couldn't name.
"What is it?" he whispered, scanning the trees. The forest was silent—no birds, no wind, just an oppressive stillness.
Serina's dagger was already in her hand, its blade catching the faint light. "Something's watching," she murmured, her voice barely audible. "Stay close. And for once, don't do anything stupid."
Elias nodded, his throat dry. He flexed his fingers, willing the spark to surface, but it was sluggish, like a fire struggling to catch. The effort made his head throb, a dull ache that reminded him how little he understood his newfound power.
A low growl rumbled through the trees, deep and guttural. Elias's blood ran cold. It wasn't like the shadows' hisses—this was primal, animalistic. Serina crouched, her eyes darting between the shadows. "Not shadows," she muttered. "Worse."
Before Elias could ask, a shape burst from the underbrush—a massive beast, its body a grotesque fusion of wolf and nightmare. Its fur was black as pitch, matted with streaks of glowing red that pulsed like veins. Its eyes burned crimson, and its jaws dripped with a viscous, tar-like substance. It was twice the size of any wolf Elias had ever seen, its presence radiating menace.
"Bloodwarg!" Serina spat, leaping back as the beast lunged. Her dagger flashed, slicing across its flank, but the creature barely flinched. It turned on her, its growl shaking the ground.
Elias's instincts screamed to run, but his feet were rooted. Serina was fast, dodging the bloodwarg's snapping jaws with a grace that seemed almost inhuman, but she was alone. The beast was too big, too strong. If he didn't do something, she'd be torn apart.
"Elias, move!" Serina shouted, rolling under a swipe of the bloodwarg's claws. "Don't just stand there!"
He clenched his fists, the spark in his chest flickering to life. *Focus*, he told himself, channeling Kaylin's words. *Let go of fear.* The warmth surged, hotter than before, and a flame erupted in his hand—not a spark, but a true fire, wild and unsteady. He didn't know how to control it, but he didn't have time to think.
"Hey!" he yelled, thrusting his hand forward. A burst of flame shot out, erratic but bright, striking the bloodwarg's side. The beast howled, its fur igniting in patches, and turned its crimson eyes on Elias. For a moment, he regretted every choice that had led to this point.
"Nice one, spark-boy!" Serina called, seizing the distraction. She darted behind the bloodwarg, her dagger plunging into its hind leg. The beast roared, thrashing, but Serina was already gone, a blur of silver and shadow.
Elias's flame sputtered, his arm trembling from the effort. The bloodwarg charged, its jaws wide. He dove to the side, the ground shaking as the beast's claws tore into the earth where he'd stood. His heart raced, adrenaline drowning out his fear. He scrambled to his feet, summoning another flame. This one was weaker, barely a flicker, but he hurled it anyway, aiming for the bloodwarg's eyes.
The beast swatted the flame away, its growl turning into a snarl. Serina leaped onto its back, her dagger stabbing repeatedly, but the bloodwarg's hide was like iron. "This thing's not going down easy!" she shouted, her voice strained. "Got any more tricks?"
Elias's mind raced. Tricks? He barely understood the spark, let alone how to use it. But Kaylin's memories stirred again, fragmented but vivid. A battlefield, flames spiraling like a storm, Kaylin's voice calm amid the chaos. *"The fire is your will. Shape it. Command it."*
He closed his eyes, blocking out the bloodwarg's roars, Serina's shouts, the pounding of his own heart. The warmth in his chest surged, not wild this time but focused, like a blade being forged. He opened his eyes and raised both hands, the flame coalescing into a tight, glowing orb. It wasn't much, but it felt *right*.
"Serina, move!" he yelled.
She didn't hesitate, leaping off the bloodwarg's back and rolling to safety. Elias thrust his hands forward, the orb of fire streaking through the air. It struck the bloodwarg's chest, exploding in a burst of light and heat. The beast screamed, a sound that echoed across the plains, and collapsed, its body smoldering. The red veins in its fur dimmed, its crimson eyes fading to black.
Elias staggered, his vision swimming. The effort had drained him, his knees buckling as he fought to stay upright. Serina was at his side in an instant, her arm under his to keep him from falling. "Not bad," she said, her smirk returning despite the sweat on her brow. "You're full of surprises, spark-boy."
He managed a weak laugh, his chest heaving. "Don't… call me that."
"Earn a better nickname, then," she shot back, but her eyes softened. "You okay?"
"Barely," he admitted, his voice hoarse. The bloodwarg's corpse lay a few feet away, its body already dissolving into a cloud of ash, leaving only scorch marks on the ground. "What *was* that thing?"
"Bloodwarg," Serina said, sheathing her dagger. "Nasty bastards. They're drawn to power, especially fire like yours. Probably sniffed you out from miles away."
Elias's stomach churned. "Great. So I'm a walking target?"
"Pretty much." She patted his shoulder, her touch lighter than he expected. "Welcome to the club."
Before he could respond, a new sound broke the silence—a slow, deliberate clap. Elias tensed, his hand instinctively reaching for a spark that wouldn't come. Serina's dagger was out in a flash, her body coiled like a spring. The clapping came from the shadows of the trees, where a figure stepped into the moonlight.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, with skin the color of desert stone. His hair was cropped short, dark curls flecked with gray despite his youthful face. A long, tattered cloak hung from his shoulders, and a curved sword rested at his hip, its hilt etched with strange, glowing runes. But what caught Elias's attention was the tattoo on the man's forearm—a swirling design that pulsed faintly, like embers under ash.
"Well, well," the man said, his voice deep and resonant, tinged with an accent Elias couldn't place. "That was quite a show. A boy with no training, wielding fire like a master. And you, little thief, still dancing with death, I see."
Serina's eyes narrowed, her grip on her dagger tightening. "Zoryk," she said, her tone icy. "What the hell are you doing here?"
Elias glanced between them, his pulse racing. "You know him?"
"Unfortunately," Serina muttered. She didn't lower her dagger. "Zoryk's a mercenary. Exiled from the Emberfall Clans. Not exactly the trustworthy type."
Zoryk chuckled, unfazed by her hostility. "Harsh words, Serina. I saved your life once, if you recall."
"And nearly got me killed twice," she snapped. "Answer the question. Why are you here?"
Zoryk's gaze shifted to Elias, his dark eyes piercing. "The same reason you are, I'd wager. The Eternal Flame is fading, and the shadows are rising. But this boy…" He tilted his head, studying Elias like a puzzle. "He's something else. That fire—it's not just Flameborn. It's *old*. Older than the Brotherhood, maybe older than Etheria itself."
Elias's throat tightened. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said, but his voice wavered. Kaylin's memories flashed again—a hall of fire, a betrayal, a name. *Malik.*
Zoryk's eyes narrowed, as if he sensed the truth. "Don't play dumb, boy. You're carrying a legacy, whether you like it or not. The question is, what are you going to do with it?"
Serina stepped between them, her dagger pointed at Zoryk's chest. "Back off, mercenary. He's under my protection. You want him, you go through me."
Zoryk raised his hands, his smile disarming. "Easy, little thief. I'm not here to fight. Not yet, anyway. But you can't protect him forever. The Brotherhood will come for him. The shadows will come for him. And when they do, you'll need allies."
Elias's head spun. The Brotherhood, the shadows, Kaylin's memories—it was too much. "Why me?" he asked, his voice breaking. "I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask for any of it."
Zoryk's smile faded, replaced by something almost like sympathy. "None of us ask for our burdens, boy. But the fire chose you. And in Etheria, when the fire calls, you answer—or you burn."
Serina snorted. "Poetic. Now get lost, Zoryk. We don't need your cryptic nonsense."
Zoryk didn't move, his gaze still on Elias. "You'll see me again," he said, his voice low. "When you're ready to face what you are." He turned, his cloak swirling, and vanished into the trees as silently as he'd appeared.
Elias exhaled, his legs trembling. "What was *that* about?"
Serina sheathed her dagger, her expression grim. "Trouble, like I said. Zoryk's not just a mercenary. He's got his own agenda, and it's never good news when he shows up."
"Do you trust him?" Elias asked.
She laughed, a bitter sound. "I don't trust anyone, spark-boy. Not even you. But you're stuck with me, so let's keep moving. We need to reach the Emberfall border by dawn."
"Emberfall?" Elias frowned. "That's days away. And it's… dangerous, isn't it?"
"Dangerous is an understatement," Serina said, starting down the hill. "But it's the only place we'll find answers. The Brotherhood's got a stronghold there, and if we're lucky, we can dig up something about your spark—and why the Eternal Flame is dying."
Elias followed, his mind racing. Emberfall, the heart of Etheria's fire-worshipping culture, was a place of legends—cities carved from volcanic stone, temples glowing with sacred flames. But it was also a place of power and betrayal, where the Brotherhood ruled with an iron fist. The thought of walking into their territory made his skin crawl.
As they trekked through the forest, the trees thinning into open plains, Serina's silence grew heavier. Elias glanced at her, noting the tension in her shoulders, the way her hand never strayed far from her dagger. "You're not telling me everything," he said, his voice quiet but firm. "About Zoryk. About the Brotherhood. About why you're helping me."
She didn't look at him. "You're right. I'm not."
He stopped walking, forcing her to pause. "Then tell me. If I'm in this deep, I deserve to know."
Serina turned, her green eyes searching his. For a moment, she looked vulnerable, the smirk gone, the bravado stripped away. "You want the truth?" she said softly. "Fine. I'm helping you because I owe someone. Someone who believed in the Eternal Flame, who thought it could be saved. And because I've seen what happens when the shadows win. I've seen entire cities reduced to ash, people I cared about…" Her voice cracked, and she looked away, her jaw tight. "I'm not doing this for you, Elias. I'm doing it for them."
Elias's chest ached. He didn't know what to say, didn't know how to bridge the gap between them. "I'm sorry," he said finally. "I didn't—"
"Don't," she cut him off, her smirk returning like a shield. "No pity parties. We've got enough problems without getting sappy." She started walking again, her pace brisk. "Come on. We're burning moonlight."
Elias followed, but her words lingered. Serina wasn't just a thief or a fighter—she was someone with scars, someone running from her own past. And for the first time, he wondered if he could trust her, or if she was leading him into a trap.
---
The plains gave way to rocky hills as the night wore on, the air growing warmer despite the frost. Elias's legs ached, his lungs burning from the relentless pace. Serina seemed tireless, her eyes scanning the horizon for threats. The bloodwarg's attack had shaken him, but Zoryk's words were worse. *The fire chose you.* What did that mean? And why did Kaylin's memories feel more real with every step?
A faint glow appeared in the distance, not the violet of Willow's End's brazier but a warm, golden light. Elias squinted, his heart lifting. "Is that…?"
"An outpost," Serina said, her voice cautious. "Flameborn patrol these hills, keeping the roads to Emberfall clear. We'll rest there, get some supplies. But keep your spark under wraps, got it? The last thing we need is a bunch of Brotherhood lackeys sniffing around."
Elias nodded, though the thought of hiding his fire felt wrong, like denying a part of himself. The outpost grew clearer as they approached—a cluster of stone buildings surrounded by a low wall, their roofs glowing with embedded fire-crystals. A massive brazier burned at the center, its flames steady and golden, a stark contrast to Willow's End's sickly light. Flameborn guards patrolled the wall, their hands glowing with faint embers.
Serina pulled her hood up, her silver hair tucked away. "Let me do the talking," she muttered. "And try not to look like you're hiding a world-ending secret."
"Easy for you to say," Elias grumbled, pulling his own cloak tighter.
The guards at the gate eyed them warily, their hands hovering near their swords. "State your business," one said, a burly man with a scar across his jaw.
"Travelers," Serina said smoothly, her voice dripping with charm. "Heading to Emberfall for the Fire Festival. Got caught out in the plains, nearly eaten by a bloodwarg. Mind letting us crash for the night?"
The guard's eyes narrowed, flicking to Elias. "You don't look like festival-goers. And bloodwargs don't roam this close to the outpost."
Serina's smirk didn't falter. "Tell that to the one we killed. Big ugly thing, red veins, bad breath. Want me to draw you a picture?"
The second guard, younger and less grizzled, chuckled. "Let 'em in, Gav. They're just kids. Not like they're shadow-spawn."
Gav grunted, stepping aside. "Fine. But no trouble. The commander's got enough on his plate with the brazier acting up."
Elias's ears perked up. "The brazier?" he asked, ignoring Serina's warning glance.
Gav's scowl deepened. "None of your business, boy. Move along."
Serina grabbed Elias's arm, pulling him through the gate before he could ask more. "What part of 'let me do the talking' didn't you get?" she hissed.
"Sorry," he muttered, but his mind was racing. If the outpost's brazier was faltering too, the problem wasn't just Willow's End. The Eternal Flame itself was in trouble.
The outpost was a bustling contrast to the desolate plains. Flameborn soldiers mingled with traders, their voices a low hum over the crackle of the central brazier. Stalls lined the main path, selling fire-crystals, smoked meats, and cloaks woven with heat-retaining threads. The air smelled of charcoal and spice, a warmth that eased the chill in Elias's bones.
Serina led him to a small tavern, its sign depicting a flaming phoenix. Inside, the room was crowded but cozy, lit by glowing orbs embedded in the walls. Patrons laughed over mugs of steaming cider, their faces flushed from the heat. Serina slid into a corner booth, gesturing for Elias to sit. "Stay here," she said. "I'll get us some food and a room. Try not to set anything on fire."
He nodded, sinking into the worn wooden bench. The tavern's warmth was a relief, but it couldn't quiet the storm in his mind. Kaylin's memories, the bloodwarg, Zoryk's cryptic warning—it was all too much. He closed his eyes, trying to focus, but a new memory surfaced, sharper than the others.
A woman's face, framed by golden hair, her eyes filled with tears. "Kaylin, don't do this," she pleaded, her voice breaking. "You can't fight them alone." Behind her, a city burned, its flames spiraling into the sky. Kaylin's voice answered, heavy with regret. "I have to, Lysa. For you. For all of us."
Elias's eyes snapped open, his heart pounding. Lysa. The name felt like a wound, raw and aching. Who was she? And why did her pain feel like his own?
"Dreaming already?" Serina's voice pulled him back. She slid into the booth, dropping a tray of bread, cheese, and two steaming mugs onto the table. "You look like you saw a ghost."
"Maybe I did," Elias said, his voice distant. He hesitated, then decided to trust her—at least a little. "I saw someone. A woman. Lysa. She was talking to Kaylin, begging him not to fight. There was a city, burning…"
Serina's hand froze halfway to her mug. "Lysa?" she said, her tone careful. "You're sure that's the name?"
He nodded, unease creeping into his chest. "You know her?"
She leaned back, her smirk gone. "Not personally. But I've heard stories. Lysa was… someone important to the Brotherhood, a long time ago. A Flameborn, one of the strongest. She disappeared after some big battle, maybe a hundred years back. If your Kaylin knew her, he's older than he looks."
Elias's head spun. A hundred years? That couldn't be right. But the memories, the fire, the way Zoryk had spoken of his spark—they all pointed to something ancient, something beyond him.
Serina leaned forward, her voice low. "Listen, Elias. Whatever's going on with you, it's big. Bigger than me, bigger than this outpost. We need to get to Emberfall, find someone who knows about the old flames, the ones from before the Brotherhood got greedy. But you've gotta keep it together. No more visions in public, okay? People are already staring."
He glanced around, realizing she was right. A few patrons were watching them, their eyes curious or suspicious. He pulled his hood lower, his appetite gone. "What if I can't control it?" he asked. "The spark, the memories—they just… happen."
"Then we figure it out," Serina said, her tone softer than usual. "You're not alone in this, spark-boy. Not yet."
Her words were a small comfort, but they couldn't erase the fear gnawing at him. The spark was his, but it was also Kaylin's, and maybe Lysa's, and gods knew who else's. It was a legacy he didn't understand, a fire he wasn't sure he could carry.
---
The night passed in a blur of uneasy sleep, the tavern's spare room offering little comfort. Elias dreamed of fire—cities burning, voices screaming, Kaylin's blade cutting through shadows. He woke with a start, his chest heaving, the spark flickering in his hand before he could stop it. Serina was already up, sharpening her dagger by the window, her eyes fixed on the dawn.
"Bad dreams?" she asked, not looking at him.
"Something like that," he muttered, rubbing his face. "You don't sleep much, do you?"
"Not when I'm babysitting a walking bonfire," she said, but her smirk was half-hearted. "Come on. We're leaving before the outpost gets crowded."
They slipped out of the tavern, the morning air crisp and heavy with the scent of smoke. The brazier's golden flames had dimmed slightly, a faint purple tinge creeping into their edges. Elias's heart sank. The corruption was spreading, faster than he'd feared.
As they approached the outpost's gate, a commotion stopped them. A group of Flameborn soldiers was gathered around a cart, their voices raised. A man in a dark cloak stood at the center, his face hidden but his presence commanding. The soldiers parted as he spoke, his voice low and authoritative.
Serina grabbed Elias's arm, pulling him behind a stack of crates. "Don't move," she whispered, her eyes locked on the cloaked man. "That's a Brotherhood enforcer. High-ranking, by the look of him."
Elias's pulse raced. "What's he doing here?"
"Probably sniffing out trouble," she said, her voice grim. "Or power. Like yours."
The enforcer turned, his hood shifting to reveal a glimpse of his face—sharp features, a scar across one eye, and a cold, calculating gaze. He raised a hand, and the brazier flared, its flames bending toward him like obedient dogs. The soldiers stepped back, their faces pale.
"We need to go," Serina said, her voice urgent. "Now."
They slipped through the shadows, avoiding the main path as they made for the gate. But as they reached the open plains, a voice called out, sharp and commanding. "You there! Stop!"
Elias's heart stopped. The enforcer was striding toward them, his cloak billowing. The soldiers followed, their hands glowing with fire. Serina cursed under her breath, her dagger already in hand.
"Run," she said, shoving Elias forward. "Don't look back."
He didn't argue. They sprinted into the plains, the enforcer's shouts echoing behind them. The spark in Elias's chest flared, unbidden, as if sensing the danger. He didn't know where they were going or how they'd escape, but one thing was certain: the fire had chosen him, and there was no running from it now.
---
*Author's Note*:
Hey Flamborn, 🔥 Chapter 3 is surprising, isn't it? Elias is giving a great performance, Serena is hiding secrets, and Zorek... what's wrong with him? 😏 This Brotherhood enforcer is raising suspicions, and I'm eager to see what you think will happen next! Share your theories in the comments—I love hearing them all! So hit the star button and add *Ashes* to your library to keep the fire burning. 💥
PS: Team Elias, Team Serena, or Team Zorek? And which is scarier—the Blood Warrior or that enforcer's gaze? 👀 Let's discuss!