Chapter 12: The Road to Solmere

The path to Solmere was not paved with stone, but with silence and ash.

Ashen walked beside Ravel, boots crunching over dry leaves and charred branches. The forest around them was strangely quiet—no birdsong, no wind, only the distant hum of burning earth, like the land itself still remembered the war.

"How far is Solmere?" Ashen asked, pulling his cloak tighter. The air grew colder the farther north they traveled.

"Two days," Ravel replied. "If we don't run into trouble."

Ashen raised an eyebrow. "And we will run into trouble, right?"

Ravel smirked. "Most likely."

---

They camped beneath a cliff that night, the fire crackling low between them. Ashen sat staring into the flames, the gauntlet on his arm reflecting orange and gold.

"Back in the ruins," Ashen said, "you said I adapted too quickly. What did you mean by that?"

Ravel didn't answer right away. He stared into the darkness beyond the fire, as if weighing how much to say.

"That gauntlet," he said finally, "was made for the Flamebearers. People born with fire in their blood. You shouldn't be able to control it like you do."

Ashen frowned. "So I'm not supposed to have this power?"

Ravel shook his head. "No. I'm saying you're something different. Something new."

---

That night, Ashen dreamed again.

He stood on the edge of a mountain, the wind howling around him. Below, a city burned. Black smoke rose into the sky as red embers floated past him like snow.

At the center of the flames stood a figure—tall, cloaked in gold and shadow. The same one from before.

But this time, the figure turned.

Its eyes burned like twin suns. Its voice was a whisper and a roar at once.

> "The world remembers me as a destroyer. But I only burned what was already dead."

> "If you follow this path… you must choose. Salvation or ruin."

Ashen tried to speak, but the words melted before they could leave his mouth.

He awoke with a jolt, sweat on his forehead, the fire now nothing more than glowing embers.

---

By midday, they reached a ridge overlooking the valley.

And there it was—Solmere.

A city built into the side of a crescent-shaped mountain, its towers reaching toward the sky like blades. Steam and smoke rose from hundreds of chimneys, and the distant clang of metal rang through the wind.

Ashen stared in awe.

"It's beautiful," he said.

"It's dangerous," Ravel corrected. "This is where the Order of Emberlight hides its secrets. And not everyone there will be happy to see someone wearing that gauntlet."

Ashen looked down at the golden metal on his arm.

"I'm not hiding it."

Ravel nodded. "Didn't think you would."

---

As they approached the city gates, two armored guards stepped forward. Their armor was scorched black, their helmets shaped like phoenix heads.

"Halt. State your name and purpose," one barked.

Ravel stepped forward. "Ravel Dorne. Member of the Second Flameguard. I'm here to request audience with the Emberlight Council."

The guards looked at each other.

Then one of them pointed at Ashen. "And him?"

Ravel didn't answer.

Ashen did.

"I'm the one carrying the Forgotten Flame. And I'm here to learn how to use it."

The silence that followed was heavy.

Then the guards stepped aside.

"Enter. But tread carefully. This city burns in more ways than one."