Embers Beneath the Hearth

The aroma of spiced flame-fruit and fire-roasted boar wafted through the cobblestone alleys of Larethian's Moonveil District, trailing out of the arched windows of the newly named restaurant: Hearth & Heaven.

Kael stood behind the long oak counter, his fingers moving with muscle memory he hadn't yet reclaimed. A sharp cleaver danced through the air, chopping vegetables with speed and grace no chef should've had—and yet he moved like a warrior with a blade.

It was early morning, but already, a small crowd had gathered outside. Curiosity—magnetized by the scent and the strange energy around the place—drew them in.

Behind him, a soft laugh echoed from the kitchen door.

"Still as precise with a blade as the day I married you."

Kael turned, his expression unreadable—but for a brief flicker of something deeper when he saw her.

She stood in the soft kitchen light—long silver hair flowing like moonlight, dressed in an elegant deep-violet robe embroidered with arcane runes. Her eyes, like dusk-touched amethyst, studied him with quiet knowing.

"Aeris," he said, slowly. "We're married. And… I have no memory of you. Yet when I see you, something in me aches."

She walked forward and touched his chest, just above his heart. "Because your soul remembers… even if your mind is lost in smoke."

He swallowed hard.

Kael wasn't just a chef in this world. The body he now wore—the one everyone referred to as "Kael Varian"—had once been a warrior of terrifying renown. A commander during the last Fae-Draconian War. The Scorched Knight of the Seventh Flame. A name that struck fear into enemies and loyalty into soldiers.

But this version of Kael… was starting over. A second life, in a peaceful restaurant—yet surrounded by shadows of his past.

"Aeris," he said again. "Tell me who I was."

She smiled faintly. "I could tell you. Or you could remember it… one flavor at a time."

Before he could respond, a silver blur raced into the room.

"Papa!"

His daughter, Lyra, crashed into him with the exuberance only a five-year-old could manage. She wore a little apron two sizes too big, and a proud smile smeared with flour.

"I helped Mama make bread!" she chirped, holding up a lumpy, underbaked roll.

Kael crouched down and ruffled her hair. "Looks like a masterpiece."

"Of course it is!" Lyra beamed. "I'm gonna be a fire-baker like you when I grow up!"

Aeris leaned down and kissed Kael's temple—a soft, lingering press of lips that made his heartbeat pause.

"You were always a protector, Kael," she whispered against his ear. "Even when the world tried to break you."

The door creaked open.

A tall woman stepped inside—red hair cascading in wild waves, fur-tufted ears twitching above her head, golden eyes scanning the room. She wore a travel-worn cloak and tight leathers that hugged her lithe form.

"Smells like home in here," she drawled, her voice sultry, her steps confident. "You still hiring?"

Aeris raised a brow. "You smell like blood and foxfire."

The woman grinned. "I fought off two raiders and a glimmerbeast to get here. Name's Ryn. Foxkin. Ex-merc. And I cook a mean shadowboar stew."

Kael's gaze sharpened.

There was heat behind her eyes. Not just challenge… but curiosity. Recognition. And something else.

Something primal.

The restaurant had barely opened. The city was still waking. But Kael knew, in that moment—this was only the beginning.

The embers beneath his hearth were about to reignite.