The wind carried ash again.
From the cliffs of Valmere, Prince Kael Seryth could see the black clouds rising beyond the Ironwood, like a serpent coiling above the trees. Another village burned.
Kael tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, the steel still stained from yesterday's skirmish. He stood at the edge of the war camp, his cloak fluttering in the dusk breeze. His thoughts were not on the soldiers, nor the fire, nor even the growing war between the kingdoms.
His thoughts were on the girl.
He had only seen her once — in the ruins, under the shattered moonlight, as the flames danced around her like spirits obeying her breath. Her eyes had glowed gold, her hands trembling as if barely containing something ancient and dangerous.
A fire-witch. Born of the bloodline that was supposed to be extinct.
The girl should not exist.
Yet Kael had let her go.
That was seven nights ago.
Now, he could feel her again — a tug beneath his skin, like a forgotten oath. The kind that sings in your blood, not your memory.
He turned from the cliff and walked back into camp.
"General Vaern," he said, approaching the table where war maps and tokens were scattered.
The old general looked up, scarred and grizzled. "Your Highness?"
"I want two riders with me. We're riding north."
"North? The Emberlands are ash. There's nothing left but—"
"There's something," Kael said quietly. "I need to see it for myself."
The general paused, studying the young prince's face. "This wouldn't have anything to do with that girl, would it? The one you brought back and then claimed was a ghost?"
Kael didn't answer.
The journey took two days. On the third, as night fell, they found her.
Not in a cave. Not hiding. She stood in the open, under the shattered moon, flames flickering around her bare feet, as if the fire welcomed her home.
Kael halted his horse, breath caught in his throat.
She hadn't aged a day. Her eyes were still the color of molten gold, and her long, dark hair shimmered like ink.
She turned slowly, as if she'd sensed him long before he arrived.
"You came," she said, voice soft and steady. "You shouldn't have."
"You should be dead," Kael said.
"I was," she replied, smiling bitterly. "Until the fire remembered me."
The wind howled. The flames around her surged, licking the sky.
Kael dismounted, walking slowly toward her, unarmed. His guards tried to protest, but he silenced them with a look.
"I don't even know your name," he said.
She hesitated. "Liora."
"Liora," he repeated. "Why did you let me live?"
She blinked, as if the question hurt.
"Because you were the only one," she said, "who looked at me and didn't see a weapon."
The night cracked with thunder.
Suddenly, Liora turned her gaze north. Her expression changed — sharp, afraid. The fire around her hissed.
"They found me," she whispered.
"Who?"
Liora looked at Kael, her voice breaking.
"My mother," she said. "And the monster inside her."
The ground trembled. In the distance, black shadows moved between the trees — too many for any normal hunt.
Kael drew his sword, stepping beside Liora.
"You're not alone this time," he said.
Liora looked at him with wide, uncertain eyes.
And then, for the first time in years, she smiled.