The Ashen Blades

The gale raged over the pass, cold and snapping as shattered glass.

Kairo wrapped his cloak tightly about himself as they ascended higher. The road had narrowed, twisting between outcropping cliffs and sliding stone. The peaks above draped with mist concealed the sky behind moving gray.

For three days, they'd followed faint signs—rumors of strange fires in a village to the north, of crops growing wild overnight, of a lightning-struck girl who'd lived unharmed.

All signs of a possible awakening.

The Ember Circle rode with stealthy urgency, eyes sweeping every shadow. Even Jorran, usually the most talkative, was quiet.

They weren't alone in pursuit.

They camped that night in a shallow ravine, sheltered from the wind by spindly pines. Sera taught Kairo how to manage his flame so that he didn't burn everything around him to ashes.

"It's not fire," she said, placing his hand on a flat rock and holding it there. "It's energy. Life. Think of it like a river. You don't want to dam it—you want to channel it."

Kairo closed his eyes. He focused.

There was a warm ember in his hand—not this time a blaze, but a soft heat, like coals under ash.

"Good," she whispered. "Now hold on to it."

He did. For the first time, the power didn't have the taste of a storm. It felt as if it were his.

Later, when he slept at the fire, Tenn approached with a folded piece of cloth. He handed it to Kairo.

Inside was a bracer made of black leather and burnished steel, etched with Ember glyphs. A glowing red-orange crystal was set into its center.

"A focus band," Tenn explained. "It channels excess energy. Helps regulate your flame in battle."

Kairo slipped it on. It hummed faintly, syncing with his mark. He felt steadier immediately.

"Thanks," he said.

"You're going to need it," Tenn replied.

The next morning, they came to the edge of the village—a faraway cluster of houses between cliffs, surrounded by snow-killed fields.

Smoke drifted over chimneys. Chickens pecked along pathways. It appeared peaceful.

Too peaceful.

Sera frowned. "There's a quiet. No children. No voices."

Jorran nodded. "Something's wrong."

They crept forward, blades sheathed but within reach. Doors were shut, curtains drawn. It appeared that the village was holding its breath.

An old man peered out from behind a window. When he saw Kairo, his eyes widened. He disappeared quickly, and a second later, the door creaked open.

"You're not with them," he whispered.

"Who?" Sera asked.

The man shuddered. "The Ashen Blades. Came two days ago. Said they were hunting witches. Took the girl."

Kairo stepped forward. "Where?"

They brought her to the mountain. To the temple ruins. Told that they'd 'purify the corruption.'"

The man nodded his head. "She didn't do anything bad. Just rode through a storm."

Sera's face grew cold. "We have to go."

They made it to the temple ruins at noon.

Perched atop a steep cliff, the ruins were half-broken—pieces of columns, darkened stones. An ancient memorial to the fire gods, left to rot for centuries.

And in the midst of the ruin, bound to a shattered altar, stood a girl—not quite as old as Kairo.

Her hair was charred. Her arms glowed with ember-fire. Her eyes blazed with fear as three hooded figures circled her—each silver mask carrying ash runes.

Ashen Blades.

Order killers. Enforcers of oblivion.

One drew a knife, incanting.

Kairo didn't delay.

He charged forward, his flame writhing, focus band glowing like a star.

The nearest assassin whirled around as Kairo struck—a blast of golden power sending him reeling back. Sera and Tenn were right behind, swords flashing.

Jorran bellowed with war and swung his axe in a deafening sweep.

The air exploded into chaos.

Kairo dodged the sword and released a withering volley of sustained fire against the second assassin. It hit with a hammer fist, slamming him into a column of stone with a crunching impact.

Sera fought in efficient fury, her daggers flashing in showers of fire and metal. She carved through defenses of the third assassin, her own power swirling in waves around each strike.

But these were not ordinary adversaries.

The first killer—the muttering one—stayed again, mask broken, eyes burning black fire. He raised his hand and uttered a word that shook the earth.

A flash of shadow burst out.

Kairo reacted, tossing up his hand automatically.

The focus band ignited.

The shadow collided with golden light—and went off.

The killer stumbled, shocked.

Kairo took him.

He charged forward, fire encasing his fists, and struck with everything he had.

The blow was like a thunderclap.

The masked figure flew backward—and didn't rise again.

The fight was over in moments.

The Ashen Blades lay defeated—two dead, one unconscious.

The girl on the altar stared at Kairo, wide-eyed.

"You're like me," she whispered.

He nodded, breathing hard. "Yeah. You're safe now."

Sera freed her bindings. The girl sat up slowly, her body glowing faintly.

"What's your name?" Virella asked gently.

"Elin," she said. "I didn't hurt anyone. I just… I touched the lightning, and everything changed."

Sera smiled. "That's how it starts."

At camp, Elin sat close to the fire, wrapped in a warm blanket. Her flame glowed softly under her skin—unstable, but alive.

"You're one of us now," Sera said. "And we'll show you how to harness that gift."

Elin looked at Kairo. "You weren't scared?"

"I was frightened," he replied. "Still am. But you're not alone."

She smiled for the first time.

When the stars came out, Kairo sat alone off in the distance, looking out at the horizon.

Tenn approached him, silent for an incredibly long time.

"She's only the beginning," Tenn said. "More and more are awakening every day. The Order is taking notice. They're closing in."

Kairo nodded. "Then we break it."

Tenn looked at him, something fierce burning in his eyes. "You're growing into a leader, Kairo."

He did not speak.

But deep within his heart, a flame within him glowed—not erratically, but persistently.

A flame not merely for nourishment.

But for metamorphosis.