Part I: "Names Carved in Flame"
Dawn broke red.
The skies over Deyrun bled with streaks of crimson and gold as the first light crawled across the horizon. The trees whispered low. Not fear. Not warning.
Anticipation.
Within the Ardyn estate, Kael sat alone in the training yard, sweat dripping down his brow, wooden blade shaking slightly in his hand.
His arms burned.
His legs trembled.
But his eyes? Still golden. Still locked forward.
"Breathe in. Hold. Release."
His father's voice echoed in his memory, not from across the yard — but within.
Kael exhaled, straightened his back, and swung.
CRACK.
The tip of the blade clipped a wooden post, shaving off a splinter the size of a finger. Not enough to count as a proper hit… but enough to notice.
Zevran had told him a hundred times:
"Precision is more important than power."
But deep down, Kael couldn't shake the feeling that power was stirring within him — something deeper than muscle, older than technique. Something that watched with every strike.
And this morning… it was growing harder to ignore.
Inside the House…
"Slow down, Lyra. You're going to choke."
Seris Ardyn wiped her daughter's face with a cloth as the girl inhaled her breakfast like a soldier in war.
"Mom! They're doing beast affinity assessments today! If I'm late, I'll be stuck with a frog again!"
Kael stepped inside just in time to hear that sentence.
"Wait," he blinked, "you had a frog before?"
"He exploded," Lyra said with too much pride.
Seris gave her a look. "He was released into the pond. He did not explode."
"Exploded emotionally."
"Lyra."
"Anyway," she grabbed her bag, ruffled Kael's hair, and bolted. "Gotta go! Don't die while I'm gone!"
"I'll do my best," Kael muttered.
Seris chuckled softly as Kael sat at the table, reaching for the last rice cake.
"Training again before dawn?"
Kael nodded. "Still can't cut through the second post."
"It took your father six months," she smiled, sipping her tea. "You're ahead of the curve."
"Dad says I'm stubborn."
"That's what he said about me too."
At the Edge of the Village…
Old man Maelin waited, staff in hand, eyes closed, standing still as stone under the shade of an ash tree.
He'd traveled from the west, carried by letters and whispers — that the hunter Zevran Ardyn had returned. That he had children. And that one of them did not cry when he was born.
He heard the soft steps approaching before Kael even came into view.
"You're late," Maelin said without opening his eyes.
Kael froze. "…I didn't agree to a meeting."
"And yet you came."
Kael squinted. "Do you always stand around waiting for random kids?"
"Only the ones who smell like old magic."
That made Kael pause.
"I don't—"
Maelin's staff tapped the earth.
"Show me your palm."
Kael hesitated.
"Now."
Kael slowly raised his hand — and for a split second, a faint ember flickered across his skin.
Maelin's eyes snapped open.
Not wide.
Not in fear.
In confirmation.
"Hmph," he muttered. "So it's true."
"What is?"
Maelin turned and began walking. "Come. You have work to do."
"But my dad—"
"Knows I'm here."
The Trial Begins
Maelin's "lesson" took Kael into the woods. Not the nearby glades or the sparring fields… but deep.
Through bramble paths and forgotten stones. Past old hunter's markings. Into a glade where light bent strangely, and the birds refused to sing.
At its center lay a broken statue — a beast long weathered by time, head bowed in slumber, jaws cracked open.
"This place is cursed," Kael whispered.
"No," Maelin corrected. "This place is sleeping."
He walked to the base of the statue and placed a carved stone tablet on its paws. It lit with faint, flickering orange — the same color Kael had begun to feel in his chest since that night in the forest.
"You feel it too, don't you?" Maelin asked.
Kael swallowed. "The warmth."
"No. The presence."
Kael didn't respond.
Because deep within his bones — he could hear it.
The heartbeat.
One pulse.
Then another.
Faint. Distant. But real.
"Soon."
Maelin stepped back, letting the air settle. The wind stirred the leaves, but Kael's hair didn't move.
"He chose you," Maelin said. "The wolf."
Kael's eyes snapped to him.
"How do you—"
"I've lived longer than most names you'll ever know. I've seen beasts take hosts. I've watched empires fall when bonds break. And yours?" He looked straight at Kael. "Yours will either save this continent… or burn it."
Kael didn't move.
Didn't blink.
But inside his chest, the ember pulsed again.
Part II: "The One That Watches"
That Evening…
Kael returned home just before dusk.
He was quiet.
Too quiet.
Seris noticed first — the way his steps were measured, how his shoulders weren't just tired… they were heavy.
"Training went well?"
Kael hesitated at the door. "Maelin took me deep into the woods."
That made Seris stiffen.
"How deep?"
Kael looked up at her. "The sleeping statue."
Silence.
Seris slowly put down the bowl she was stirring. Her eyes never left his.
"Did he say why?"
"He said the place was watching me."
"And what do you feel?"
Kael looked down at his hand.
"Warm."
Out Back – Minutes Later…
Zevran stood under the same ash tree Kael had trained beneath that morning, hands folded behind his back.
Maelin approached from the treeline, cane tapping softly against stone.
They didn't speak for a long time.
Then:
"He's not ready," Zevran said.
"Neither were we," Maelin replied. "But the wolf doesn't wait."
"That bond can't be rushed. It's not just power. It's identity."
Maelin paused.
"You see it too, don't you? The way he moves. The way the embers follow him."
Zevran's jaw tensed.
"I see the cost."
"Then teach him."
"I am."
"Not fast enough."
Zevran turned slowly, golden-brown eyes narrowed.
"This is not your child."
"No," Maelin said softly. "But he may be all of ours, soon enough."
Meanwhile… At the Village School
Lyra stood proudly on top of a bench, holding up what looked like a very crudely drawn beast sigil on a lunchbox lid.
"Behold! The crest of the Fire Wolf clan!"
The other kids blinked.
"That's just a picture of a dog breathing spaghetti."
"It's symbolic."
"Of what?"
"My brother's future conquest of the Empire."
Instructor Pell pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Lyra, that is not part of the beast ranking curriculum—"
"Neither was enlightenment, but someone had to start it."
Later That Night…
Kael lay awake in bed, staring at the wooden ceiling. Again.
The house was quiet. Lyra was snoring in the next room. His mother's soft footsteps had passed an hour ago.
But Kael couldn't sleep.
Because it was back.
That pulse.
That presence.
From within the trees.
He stood slowly, silently, and walked to the window.
The moon cast long shadows across the yard.
And at the edge of the tree line… it stood.
The wolf.
Amber and black. Eyes burning low.
Watching.
Kael didn't blink.
Didn't speak.
He just opened the window.
The wolf tilted its head once, as if nodding.
Then it vanished into mist.
Elsewhere…
The mountains groaned.
Not from wind.
From something stirring.
Far beneath stone and fire, scales shifted. Gold eyes opened. And the ancient breath of a forgotten dragon sighed into the void.
"The ember awakens… too early."
Back in Deyrun…
Zevran stood on the roof again. Alone.
He'd seen the wolf too.
And he knew it would not appear unless the bond was forming.
Unless something had already begun.
"I trained you to stay hidden," he muttered. "Not to reach for stars before your feet touch stone."
But deep down, even Zevran knew…
Kael was no ordinary ember.
He was the beginning of something else entirely.