Shadows And Secrets

The nights were beginning to blur together—long hours spent between dusty training mats, flickering candlelight, and Lucien's intense gaze. Nova had started to lose track of time. Days bled into nights. Sleep became optional. Her muscles ached, and her mind swirled with fire, but she didn't stop.

Lucien pushed her harder than she thought she could bear, but deep down, she welcomed the burn. Pain was proof she was growing.

"You're progressing fast," Lucien observed, watching as Nova balanced a steady flame above her palm. The fire danced with precision, no longer wild and out of control. "Most initiates struggle to hold the Flame this long."

Nova exhaled, letting the fire fade. "Maybe I'm not like most initiates."

He gave her a strange look—half pride, half concern. "You're not."

Before she could ask what he meant, he stood and motioned toward the door. "Come with me. There's something you need to see."

Curiosity flared in her chest. Without a word, she followed him into the night.

They traveled deeper into the city's underground, past rusted gates and hidden tunnels coated in moss and silence. Nova could feel the temperature shift—the air cooler, heavier, almost sacred.

Eventually, they stopped in front of a sealed iron door etched with strange glowing runes.

Lucien placed his palm against it, and the door groaned open, revealing a stone chamber lit by a soft amber glow.

"What is this place?" Nova whispered, her voice swallowed by the walls.

Lucien led her inside, toward a strange, cracked mirror standing tall at the center of the room. It shimmered—not with reflection, but with images. Faint, flickering glimpses of things that shouldn't be real.

"The Emberglass," Lucien said. "It holds echoes of the Flamebound's memories. Past. Present. Sometimes… futures."

Nova stepped closer. The mirror showed flashes—of war, fire, loss. A girl with golden eyes unleashing a storm of flame. Then, that same girl bleeding in the dark, surrounded by shadows.

She staggered back. "That was me."

Lucien's voice was quiet. "Or a version of you. The Flame remembers all its bearers."

She clenched her fists. "Why show me this?"

"Because you need to understand what's coming."

A sudden sound cracked through the silence.

Nova froze. Another snap—closer now.

Lucien's hand flew to the blade at his side. "Stay behind me."

From the darkness, a tall figure emerged. Dressed in flowing black, its body seemed to ripple like smoke. Its face was hidden beneath a hood, but glowing red eyes burned beneath.

Nova felt the air grow colder. The warmth of the chamber dimmed.

"A Shadowfiend?" she whispered.

"Worse," Lucien muttered. "It's marked. It's aware."

The creature tilted its head, then spoke in a voice like rusted metal. "The child of flame lives again."

Lucien lunged forward, throwing a dagger.

The creature caught it mid-air, letting it clatter to the floor. "Too slow," it hissed.

Then it charged.

Nova barely had time to think. She raised her hands on instinct—and fire erupted from her palms. It wasn't like before. This flame was controlled, focused. It exploded in a wall of gold, slamming into the creature and sending it crashing into the far wall.

The shadows screeched as they burned—but then, like smoke, the creature vanished.

Gone.

Nova stood still, fire flickering across her arms, her breath ragged.

Lucien looked stunned. "You summoned that flame without words. That's not basic training—that's instinct. That's… blood memory."

Nova's arms shook as the fire faded. "It said I live again."

Lucien exhaled, dragging a hand through his hair. "They know now. All of them. Your mark is no longer dormant."

She glanced at the mirror again, unease twisting in her stomach. "So what does that mean?"

"It means the hunt has begun."

Later that night, Nova sat alone in the warehouse, staring at the faint golden glow of her mark. It pulsed like a second heartbeat. Like it was alive.

She should've been afraid.

But all she felt was a storm rising inside her.

She didn't choose this life. But now that it had chosen her—she wasn't going to run from it.

She was going to burn brighter than any flame before her.

No more hiding.

No more doubt.

Let the shadows come.

She'd be ready.