CHAPTER EIGHT

The echo of celebrations still lingered in the halls of the palace. Music and laughter still having the best of the halls, with servants cleaning the remnants of spilled wine and half-eaten platters. The flame had been kind to the king, giving him a son, Ashen Reuben, whose name was already being whispered as the Flame Reborn.

But while joy danced in the golden halls of Valeria, in a hidden chamber buried beneath the eastern wing, another child cried—softer, frailer, and far less celebrated.

Diego, the lone knight known for his unmatched swordplay and cold resolve, stepped quietly into the chamber. He didn't wear the ornate garments of celebration; his cloak was black, dusty from the trail, and his boots carried the weight of unease.He came along with a sack filled with food.

The Jaka'ar woman lay on a small, hay-strewn cot. Her skin was pale from labor, her eyes heavy with exhaustion, but her arms cradled her newborn tightly. The other captive Jaka'ar warriors, despite their chains and wounds, stood. Their backs were straight. Eyes locked on Diego as he entered, no words spoken. Only silence, but it carried a faint message.

The maid attending to the Jaka'ar woman flinched as Diego stepped further into the room.

Normally he would have kept a few paces behind.

The baby's cry grew louder, more distressed. The mother's grip tightened as if afraid Diego might snatch the child from her.

Diego paused, his eyes flickering from the child to the woman. Slowly, he reached behind his belt and drew out a slender blade—nothing grand, just a curved knife with a worn handle.

The mother's breath caught in her throat. Her grip turned desperate. Her eyes darted wildly.

"Please..." the maid whispered, her voice small. "Please, Ser Diego... he's just a child."

Diego didn't respond. He stared at the blade as if seeking an answer from its cold metal. Then he looked at the warriors. None of them moved, but their eyes screamed. Eyes of men who once burned cities now pleaded for the life of a newborn.

The child cried louder, the sound high and sharp, like a voice calling out to something unseen.

Then, Diego knelt.His eyes held purpose as he looked at the Jaka'ar woman.

With a sharp and quick motion, he cut his palm ,dripped the blood on the child before he slowly plunged the blade into the sand-covered stone beneath him.

A sigh escaped the room. The Jaka'ar woman gasped. The warriors exhaled, eyes widening. The maid wept quietly.

"I made some findings," Diego said.

"Pardon?" The maid asked,confused as she wiped the tear.

" The Jaka'ar's gain the assurance of a stranger when such stranger shed his own blood as an oath."

"Do you think she now has trust in you, sire?"

Diego and Amira looked at the woman,her body was not at ease, sweat dripping from her face to her jaw and then to the child.

"I believe she does….their eyes are something that keeps promise."

Just then, the Jaka'ar woman lifted her chin and spoke. Her voice was cracked but firm.Her eyes fixed on Diego.

"Vireth a'khaal dravon, en'sul embera. Kai'reth, salun, vaedra shal'vorn—virell a'vynor sol'deth."

Diego blinked,looked at Amira then back at the woman. "What?"

She held the baby closer, still eyeing him, but there was no longer fear—only a strange reverence. The maid gently stepped forward.

"She said... something about fire. The word 'embera'—I think it means fire or embers ... .of fire."

"Did you teach her our tongue?" Diego asked, standing now.

"Bits of it. She listens. Learn fast. I think she understands more than she lets on."

Diego turned to the mother. She looked at him now with calm intensity, as if challenging him to understand her.He took a step closer.

"Do you understand what I did? Earlier?".Showing her his blood stained palm.

She gave a faint nod before her mouth opened to speak again.

" Jaka'ar….."She said finding the right words and how to place them."...ri ... .rituals."

He crouched beside her, careful not to startle.

"She does adapt faster."

"I told you sire."

The knight signaled to Amiria for the sack of food,and she immediately went for it.

" What's his name?"

He asked, offering her some food but she hesitated for a while.Diego soon ate some of it to show no harm.

"What will you call him?."He asked once more before handing over another piece which she collected, gnawing at every piece to regain her strength.

She looked around, then slowly pointed toward the torch mounted on the wall—the flame flickering gently.

"Kha'al," she said softly.

Diego repeated it. "Kha'al."

The baby hiccupped between cries, and for a brief moment, fell silent. As if the name itself comforted him.

"What does it mean? Light?" Diego asked.

"Flame,sir Diego." the maid replied before the mother could. "I think it means flame."

Diego stood again, staring at the child. Born of a fallen commander. Born in chains. Yet named after fire.

He turned to the Jaka'ar warriors. They bowed in respect. A rare thing from enemies. A gesture Diego did not take lightly.

He looked back at the baby. "Kha'al," he said again, as if weighing the word.

Then he turned, picked up his knife, and slid it back into its sheath.

"You'll live," he muttered, more to himself than to the child. "Flame knows why, but you'll live."

He stretched the sack towards Amira before turning to leave.

"Take the rest of the food and help them regain their strength...they will need it sooner or later."

" Yes, sire, I will do that now."

As he stepped out of the chamber, the baby cried again—but not in fear. It was a loud cry, strong and insistent. A call that echoed behind Diego, following him like a ghost before he shut the metal door.

He didn't look back.

But something told him that cry would one day return to shake the very throne of Valeria.