Chapter 10: Chains Of Light

The dawn filtered softly through the warped windowpanes of the cottage, spilling golden light across the dusty floorboards. Dust danced in the glow like silent sparks. Aeris sat cross-legged near the hearth, her hands resting in her lap, eyes fixed on the faint pulse of light blooming from her palm. It beat in time with her breath—soft, uncertain, alive.

Maela watched in silence for a moment before stepping forward. The floor creaked under her weight, but her presence was steady, grounding.

"You carry a fire inside you," Maela said, kneeling beside her. "But it is untamed. And without anchor, fire consumes."

Aeris's throat tightened. "I feel it… like it's too big for me. Sometimes it listens. Sometimes it lashes out."

She looked down. "What if I can't control it?"

Maela drew in a breath and extended her hand. "Then I will help you. I should've started long ago. When I chose silence… I thought it was protection."

Aeris blinked. "You had magic all this time?"

Maela nodded, eyes distant. "I was once a flame-tender in the Temple of Elisar. I buried that part of me when your mother died. Magic draws eyes—and I needed to keep you hidden. I let the light inside me grow cold… but it never truly left."

She stood, her cloak brushing the floor as she moved toward a small chest near the wall. From it, she drew a shard of translucent crystal veined with starlight. It glowed faintly at her touch.

"This was Seraphina's. It responds to blood and legacy. As does your magic."

Aeris took the shard, the warmth of it blooming in her hand like a memory. "I don't know what I'm doing."

"You're not meant to yet." Maela smiled, then reached out to cup Aeris's hand. "But you will."

They began simply. Breathing. Listening. Maela instructed Aeris to close her eyes and feel—not just the power beneath her skin, but the memory of it. The echoes passed down through her mother's line. The fragments that shimmered when her heart beat too fast or her fear ran too deep.

Hours passed like drifting clouds. Between breaths and stillness, Maela whispered names of old beings into the hush:

> "The Whisper Wolves howl beyond the veil, The Lumi Fae light the hollow paths, The Stargrave waits in silence, And the Dwarf-Fae stir beneath the stone. All watch. All wait. For you."

Aeris trembled. "Why me?"

Maela looked at her gently. "Because your soul was lit by stars long before your first breath."

Suddenly, light surged through Aeris's fingers—brilliant, uncontrolled. The crystal in her hand glowed white-hot, and the air thickened with heat and sound. Books lifted from shelves. Flames flickered blue.

"No, no—" Aeris gasped, trying to force it down.

Maela grabbed her wrist, calm and sure. "Don't push it back. Invite it in."

Aeris closed her eyes. She pictured the voice of her mother—soft and warm—singing lullabies beneath moonlight. She whispered her own name aloud:

> "Aeris Valerien."

And just like that, the light dimmed. It pulsed once. Then folded into her like breath.

Silence fell.

Aeris opened her eyes, tears tracking down her cheeks. Maela's gaze shimmered—not just with pride, but with something close to reverence.

"You've begun," she whispered. "And there's no turning back."

They sat quietly for a while, until a knock rattled the door. Mira entered, breathless.

"There's movement at the edge of the woods," she said. "Two scouts, cloaked. Watching. They vanished before I could get close."

Maela stood, jaw clenched. "Talien is moving faster than I thought."

Aeris's palm flared faintly again, but this time, it didn't burn. It warned.

Far from the cottage, Talien stood in a black tent lined with mirrored glass. A blood candle burned beside him. His hand hovered over a sigil etched in salt.

"She's awakening," he murmured. "And the old guardian has stepped into light."

A priest entered, hesitating. "Shall we deploy the riders?"

Talien nodded slowly. "Send the Hounds. Let them run her to the edge. We'll strike when the stars next falter."

His gaze turned to the sky.

"The moon will bleed," he whispered, "and when it does… her bond shall break."

Beyond the Vareth border, beneath a darkening sky, Riven stood at the ridge where stone met sand. The night wind swept his dark hair from his brow, and in his palm, the coin the little girl gave him burned faintly with unseen heat.

He hadn't slept. Couldn't.

Something in him was unraveling—tightening and unraveling all at once.

Behind him, the campfire flickered low, warriors murmuring and shifting in their sleep. Only Kael remained awake, sitting cross-legged on a rock, his gaze steady on Riven.

"You felt her," Kael said at last.

Riven didn't turn.

"She's waking up."

"I know."

Kael rose, approaching slowly. "It's not just in your head anymore, is it?"

Riven's fingers curled tighter around the coin. "No."

Kael hesitated, then quietly said, "If she's truly the girl from the prophecy—Lysira's flameborn—then she won't just change you. She'll change everything."

Riven's jaw clenched. "Then let it change."

A pulse of light burst from the coin, just for a second. And in it—Aeris. Eyes closed, face aglow with light. A fragment of a vision. A whisper of a bond.

Riven inhaled sharply, breath caught in the magic. "She's not a dream anymore," he mur

mured. "She's coming to life."

Kael said nothing. The wind howled through the stones. And the desert watched.