The first time I died, my bones turned to embers.
The thought flickered through Aric's mind as the assassin's blade slid between his ribs. Cold steel kissed his heart then burned.
He gasped, fingers clawing at the wet stone floor of the abandoned temple. Blood pooled beneath him, black in the moonlight filtering through the cracked dome above. The assassin, a faceless silhouette in tattered gray robes, loomed closer.
"Should've paid your debts, rat," the man hissed.
Aric choked on his own breath. He'd been lured here a tip about his missing sister, a trap disguised as hope. His vision blurred, but not before he saw the assassin raise the dagger again.
Thunk.
The second strike pinned his left hand to the floor. Agony screamed up his arm, but his mouth wouldn't open. Shadows swallowed the edges of his sight.
This is it. Another nameless corpse in the Ashen District.
Then—
Fire.
It started in his chest. Not the sear of the wound, but something deeper, something "alive". The ancient carvings on the temple walls pulsed red. The assassin froze.
"No. Not—"
Aric's bones "crackled". His blood ignited in his veins, molten gold replacing crimson. The pain vanished. The dagger in his hand "melted".
And the whispers came.
"Rise, Emberborn."
Aric's back arched off the ground as his scream tore into a roar. Flames erupted from his skin not consuming, but "rebuilding". Muscle wove itself back together. His ribs snapped into place.
The assassin stumbled back, tripping over his own cloak. "Impossible. The Pyre's been dead for centuries"
Aric moved without thinking. He lunged, and his burning fingers closed around the man's throat.
"Who sent you?" His voice wasn't his own—it crackled like a bonfire.
The assassin's hood fell back, revealing a face tattooed with hollow circles. A cult mark. The man grinned, blood staining his teeth.
"The Hollow King remembers you. And he's hungry."
Then with a wet "crunch" the assassin twisted his own neck and collapsed.
Aric staggered back. The flames under his skin dimmed, leaving him whole… but "wrong". His hands shook. His tongue tasted like charcoal. And when he touched his chest the wound was gone.
But so was something else.
Aric frowned. He'd come here for a reason. Someone had… someone was…
Who did I forget?
The temple doors exploded inward.
"SCENE BREAK: THE PRICE"
Aric ran.
Through the corpse-littered streets of the Ashen District, past the sulfur stink of the dye factories, his mind raced faster than his legs.
"Emberborn." The word meant nothing to him.
"Hollow King." That one made his new scars ache.
He skidded into a dead end alley and nearly impaled himself on a rusted pipe. Breathing hard, he pressed against the wall. His shirt stuck to his back, sweat and soot mixing into grime.
Think. Who would know about this?
The answer came with the scrape of a boot behind him.
Aric spun, fists raised and froze.
A woman leaned against the alley entrance, her silhouette backlit by the smog-choked moon. Tall. Angular. A scholar's robe draped over what might've been armor.
"You're slower than I expected," she said.
Aric's pulse spiked. "Who the hell are you?"
She stepped forward, and the moonlight caught the scars around her throat old burns, twisted into the shape of "handprints".
"Lysara," she signed, fingers moving in sharp jerks. Then she pointed at his chest. "And you're dying again."
Aric looked down.
A black stain spread across his tunic. The wound had "reopened".
Lysara tossed him a vial of murky liquid. "Drink. Or your second death will stick."
"SCENE BREAK: WHISPERS"
The liquid tasted like rotten eggs and copper.
Aric gagged, but the pain in his chest eased. Across the dim cellar Lysara had dragged him to, a one-eyed old man scribbled in a book bound in… was that "human skin"?
"Kael," Lysara signed. "He studies the dead."
*"And the "should-be" "dead," Kael muttered without looking up. "You're an Emberborn, boy. Which means you're a walking target."
Aric's head throbbed. "What's an Emberborn?"
Kael snapped the book shut. "Children of the Pyre Gods. Or their mistakes. Depends who you ask."
Lysara threw a dagger onto the table. Its blade was etched with the same hollow circles as the assassin's tattoos.
"The Hollow King's cult," Kael said. "They hunt your kind. Snuff out the embers before they can reignite."
Aric touched his chest again. "Why don't I remember any of this?"
Lysara and Kael exchanged a look.
"Because," Kael said slowly, "every time you burn back to life… you lose a piece of yourself. That's the price."
Aric's stomach dropped. "What did I forget tonight?"
Lysara's hands hesitated. Then
"You came to the temple looking for your sister."
Aric stared at her.
"You had a sister."
And just like that—he knew.
He'd forgotten her face.
---
"CHAPTER ENDING: CLIFFHANGER"
The cellar door burst open.
Three figures stood framed in the doorway, their robes marked with hollow circles. The lead assassin leveled a crossbow at Aric's heart.
"The King sends his regards."
Lysara's hands burst into flame.
**TO BE CONTINUED—**