Chapter 5: Veins of Fire

The halls of the Citadel pulsed with quiet energy, a tension that coiled beneath the surface like a serpent preparing to strike. Lyra walked with Kael at her side, the heavy silence between them broken only by the soft fall of their footsteps on the polished stone. After their encounter with Lord Mavros, neither of them spoke, but thoughts churned behind their eyes like storms barely held back.

Lyra's fingers twitched at her sides, a subtle pulse beneath her skin that hadn't stopped since Mavros had spoken to her. He had known her name. Had seen through the veil. And worse, he had spoken of whispers, rumors that shouldn't have spread beyond the Citadel's walls.

"Do you feel it?" she asked at last, her voice hushed.

Kael glanced sideways at her. "Feel what?"

She lifted a hand, watching the faint shimmer of heat rise from her fingertips. It wasn't visible to most, but to her, it was as tangible as breath. "This. It's like… something's waking up inside me. Ever since he looked at me."

Kael stopped abruptly, guiding her into a shadowed alcove off the main corridor. His voice was low, urgent. "You can't say things like that where others might hear."

"I'm not imagining it," she snapped, more sharply than she meant to. "I'm burning, Kael. It's under my skin, like fire in my blood."

His jaw clenched. "You were born with flame in your blood. That's not new."

"But it's changing," she said. "It's stronger. Less contained. I can feel it moving."

Kael's hand moved instinctively to the hilt of his blade, not as a threat, but out of habit, ready for anything. "Then we need to speak to the Lady Magister."

Lyra stiffened. "She'll lock me away again. You know she will."

"If you lose control...."

"I haven't lost control." Her voice wavered, not in fear, but in defiance. "I won't. Not this time."

Kael's gaze searched her face, as if trying to see whether it was truth or desperation. "You've felt this before?"

She nodded, slowly. "Once. Years ago. Before I came to the Citadel. I touched a candle… and it melted in my hand. Not just the wax. The flame bent toward me. As if it recognized me."

Kael didn't respond at first. Then, finally, he said, "That was before your training. Before the bindings."

Lyra looked down at her wrist, where beneath the fabric of her long sleeve, a faint shimmer of runes glowed against her skin, the magical sigils that had been burned into her flesh to suppress the fire in her blood. To keep her safe, they had said. To keep everyone else safe.

But the fire was slipping through the cracks now.

"Do you ever wonder," she asked quietly, "what they're really binding? Is it my power they're afraid of… or what it might mean?"

Kael didn't answer, because they both knew the truth.

The Citadel feared prophecy more than magic.

The flame in her veins wasn't just raw power, it was the sign of the Phoenix Bloodline, a lineage thought long extinct. A legacy that had once burned empires to the ground and left nothing but ash. And now, that blood pulsed in Lyra's veins.

Veins of fire.

A servant passed at the far end of the corridor, and Kael stepped away from Lyra instinctively, slipping into the role of detached guard. The servant bowed and scurried past, never raising his eyes.

Once they were alone again, Kael said, "If Mavros knows what you are, he won't be the only one."

"He didn't know," she murmured. "He guessed. And that guess was enough to make my skin feel like it was burning."

He looked at her, truly looked, his features unreadable. "You can't afford to be reckless. Not now."

Lyra swallowed hard. "What if I don't have a choice?"

Kael said nothing, and they resumed walking in silence. But Lyra's mind spun, her thoughts circling around the ache in her chest, the heat building behind her ribs like the embers of something ancient.

They returned to her chambers, and Kael stood at the door like always, his eyes scanning the hall. But before Lyra could step inside, another figure appeared at the far end of the corridor.

The Lady Magister.

Clad in crimson robes that whispered with every step, her face was lined with age and magic, her eyes two dark voids that seemed to peer through souls. She stopped before them, gaze flicking between Lyra and Kael with sharp, hawk-like precision.

"Lady Vale," she said, voice clipped. "You are needed in the sanctum."

Lyra froze. "Why?"

The Lady Magister didn't blink. "The High Ascended has summoned you."

Kael stepped forward, but the Magister raised a hand to halt him. "She goes alone."

"No," Kael said coldly. "Where she goes, I go."

The Magister's lips thinned. "She is not under threat."

Kael's hand brushed his blade again. "That's not your call."

Lyra placed a hand lightly on his arm. "It's alright," she said softly. "I'll go."

He turned to her, clearly uneasy, but something in her eyes told him not to fight. Not now.

The Magister turned and began walking, and Lyra followed, the soft tap of her slippers echoing against stone. They passed through the inner sanctum halls, deeper than she'd ever been allowed to go before. The air here was cooler, tinged with the scent of old parchment, melted wax, and something darker, magic sealed into stone.

The Magister led her to a heavy iron door inscribed with ancient runes. It opened on its own as they approached.

Inside was a circular chamber, lit by a single column of light that poured from a hole in the domed ceiling. In the center stood a pedestal, and atop it… a vial of red-gold liquid that shimmered like molten fire.

The Phoenix's Flame.

Lyra's breath caught.

"You brought me here for this?"

The Magister's expression didn't change. "It is time you were tested."

"Tested?" Lyra whispered, heart thudding.

"The prophecy cannot be fulfilled by someone who hides from their nature," the Magister said. "Touch the flame."

She stepped back.

Lyra stared at the vial. Her fingers trembled.

"I'm not ready," she said.

"No one ever is."

Her footsteps felt weighted as she stepped forward. She raised her hand. The warmth from the vial reached her skin before she even made contact.

The moment her fingers brushed the glass, the fire surged.

A scream caught in her throat as heat rushed through her body—through her blood. Her knees buckled, and she hit the ground hard. The runes on her wrists flared and cracked like splintering glass. Her vision blurred, her bones ached.

But beneath the pain… was clarity.

Memories not hers flashed behind her eyes, visions of a woman cloaked in fire, standing above a battlefield of shadows. Her face was hidden, but Lyra knew, knew, it was her. A future self. Or a past one.

The fire surged again, and her mouth opened, but the scream didn't come. Only a single word escaped.

"Kael."

Then darkness took her.