Warning among the ashes.

The night air in the Firelands was never cold, the fire beast, still contained in its cage, was secured to a cart. The group, weary but resolute, was preparing to depart. Rhys stood at the forefront, his sharp gaze scanning the horizon, every muscle in his body taut with the awareness of their fragile victory. After reaching at the camp, the group readied themselves to move once more, back to the kingdom. The camp was already packed up, the sounds of soldiers moving in the darkness, their faces dimly lit by a scorched flame of the fireland.

Amara stood off to the side, her body still trembling from the encounter with the beast, her heart racing from the tension that clung to her like an oppressive heat. It felt like everything had been moving so fast, like she hadn't had time to process the events of the day.

"Amara," Rhys called from a few paces away, his voice low, commanding. "Make sure the ropes are secure on the cage. We don't need any surprises."

She nodded and stepped toward the cart, trying to ignore the unsettling feeling gnawing at her. Her fingers trembled as she tightened the ropes, her mind drifting back to the strange series of events that unfolded.

As she finished securing the last of the ropes, she heard, subtly at first ,a faint rustling, a whisper of movement behind her.

 She froze, a strange feeling settled over her.

Her heart thudded painfully in her chest as she turned around, her eyes scanning the shadows.

From the darkness of the Firelands, a figure emerged, a silhouette barely visible through the haze of heat. The figure was cloaked, tall surrounded by an eerie glow of flame.

Amara's breath caught in her throat.

The figure was coming toward her, moving steadily and purposefully. His movements were almost ghostly, as if he existed outside the realm of time, his presence both unsettling and magnetic.

Amara's pulse quickened as the figure drew closer. She felt a pang of terror seize her chest.

She was alone, no one else had seen this figure yet. Every instinct screamed at her to run, to scream for help, but her legs were frozen, as if bound by an invisible force.

The figure stopped in front of her, and for the first time, Amara caught a glimpse of his face. His skin was pale, almost ghostly, and his jaw was sharp and angular, giving him an almost fragile appearance. His eyes glowed with a fiery intensity that seemed to burn through the darkness, making her skin prickle with an overwhelming sense of danger.

But what truly caught her attention was the symbol etched into his forehead—strange, dark, symbol swirling with an energy that she couldn't understand. It was as if it was carved directly into his skin, glowing faintly with an unnatural power.

He spoke then, his voice low, smooth, and strangely melodic—almost as if the words themselves held an ancient power. "Where are you taking the beast?" His words were laced with a tone of arrogance, an aloofness that sent a shiver down her spine. The language he spoke was the same as her as she could understand him but his voice was a mix of a native tongue, something foreign, something mystical.

Amara's mouth went dry, her mind racing as she tried to comprehend what was happening. She opened her mouth to respond, but the words failed to come out of her lips.

"I-I don't....we..we" She stammered, her voice trembling. " To our kingdom. It's... it's for the safety of our people." she finally spoke. 

The figure's eyes narrowed, studying her closely, as if reading something in her very soul. There was no trace of fear in his gaze, no sign of compassion or empathy. 

The silence between them stretched for a heartbeat before he spoke again, his voice cutting through the stillness like a blade.

"Warn them," he said, his tone cold, indifferent. "If you take that beast back to your kingdom, you will be followed. More will come. You will never make it to your kingdom alive."

Amara's heart pounded harder, a feeling of dread washing over her. She wanted to ask him, to demand why he was saying this, but her voice faltered in her throat. There was something about him that made her want to run and hide, to flee from his presence before she became ensnared by it.

"Don't be foolish," he continued, his voice now laced with a bitter edge. " The fire beast is not yours to claim, and those who think they can tame, the fire will burn."

With those words, he took a step back, his figure becoming more distant, melting into the shadows. Amara stood frozen, her heart still racing in her chest, her mind trying to make sense of what had just transpired. The figure disappeared into the darkness as silently as he had appeared, leaving her alone with the sound of her own breathing.

Amara's hands were shaking as she reached out, grasping for something solid—anything that would reassure her. She looked toward the camp, where Rhys and the others were still preparing to leave, unaware of the encounter that had just unfolded.

But the words of the stranger echoed in her mind: Warn them... they will be followed...

Amara took a deep breath, steeling herself. She couldn't ignore it. She had to warn them, even if it meant risking their anger or disbelief. But would they believe her or maybe it was just another mirage playing tricks on her ?!.

Whether it's one of them, but the only thing they wanted was to accomplish the mission. Capturing the beast and bring it back to the kingdom.

Amara sat in the back of one of the carts, her knees drawn close to her chest. She stared at the artifact in her hands, its surface warm and smooth, its intricate engravings glinting faintly in the dying light. It was shaped like a broken half-circle, its edges jagged and uneven. Tiny flames seemed to dance within its core, flickering as if alive. The artifact pulsed faintly against her palm, an enigmatic rhythm that seemed to echo her own heartbeat.

Her mind spiraled with questions. This artifact—this thing, had been her reason for embarking on this perilous journey. Its connection to the Firelands, its link to the ancient stories her mother had told her, they all pointed to a truth buried deep within the fiery wilderness. And yet, they were leaving now, retreating with their prize. Once they crossed the border into their kingdom, there would be no turning back, no chance to unravel its mysteries.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of talons scraping metal. She looked up to see the eagle Rhys had summoned earlier, its broad wings slicing through the air as it soared above them, a small scroll tied to its leg. She watched it disappear into the horizon, a swift messenger bearing the weight of their hard-won victory.

Rhys, seated at the front of the lead cart, looked over his shoulder and met her gaze briefly. His expression was unreadable, his face set like stone. Amara knew he was weighing their safety above all else, his every decision calculated to protect what remained of their group. Yet she couldn't shake the feeling that he was battling something deeper. Regret, perhaps, for the lives lost along the way, or frustration at the uncertainties ahead.