Chapter Thirteen: The Embers of Yesterday

You can bury the flame, but you can't kill the heat.

And from the ashes of the forgotten,

We rise to remember who we truly are.

🔥 A World Without Sound

The wind had died.

Not just quieted but truly died.

No flurries whispered through the ruined arches of Pyra Sanctis. No animals stirred in the snowdrifts. No ice cracked under pressure.

It was as if even the world feared what had happened here. As if the earth itself mourned the battle that had just shaken the ruins to their foundation.

We sat just beyond the remains of the collapsed crypt, beneath the skeletal limbs of a long-dead frostwood tree. The fire crackled lazily, offering only the barest warmth. Its flickers seemed more ceremonial than practical comforting, yes, but more like a vigil than a campfire.

Rion sat with his back to the flame, sharpening his blade in repetitive, silent motions. His knuckles were split and raw, bandaged with torn cloth.

Eira hadn't spoken in over an hour. She stood apart from us, gazing out over the crags of broken ice, the Scorchspire still resting in her hand. Its magic had quieted, for now, but I could still see the faint glimmer at its core—like a sleeping star.

I watched her from where I sat, the Pyra Compass balanced in my palm, its flames now flickering with four steady lights.

There was another flameborn out there.

But for now, we said nothing.

Because we weren't ready to chase anyone just yet.

We still needed to face… ourselves.

🔥 The Weight of the Fight

Every part of my body hurt.

The ribs Kael had once broken in training now throbbed again likely cracked anew in the chaos. My back was sore from where the Flamebreaker had thrown me like a ragdoll against the crypt wall. Even my flames, usually ever-present and soothing, felt distant. Weakened. Like they were resting after exerting too much of themselves.

We'd lived. Barely.

And I didn't even feel triumphant.

Just tired.

"That thing wasn't alive," Rion said suddenly, breaking the silence. "He didn't bleed like a man. Didn't fall like one either."

"No," I murmured. "He was something else. A monument to pain."

"They built him to erase us," Eira said softly, still not turning. "Not to fight us. To undo us."

She finally walked back to the fire and sat down, the Scorchspire laid carefully across her lap like it was a relic, not a weapon.

"When I stabbed him, I felt… something," she added. "Like I touched what was left of his soul."

Rion and I looked at her.

"You saw him?" I asked.

"Pieces," she said. "Flashes. He was once like us. Born in chains. Raised in fire. But instead of escaping... he submitted. Let the Circle take everything. His name, his thoughts, his mercy."

Her fingers clenched the Scorchspire's shaft.

"He became what they wanted me to become."

🔥 Revealing the Scars

Rion stirred the fire with a stick, watching the embers dance.

"We're all products of their cruelty," he said, his voice lower now. "Born wrong. Punished for breathing. I had a family once—before the Circle declared our bloodline 'impure.' My father begged them to spare us. They laughed."

He paused. The firelight played on the scar that ran along his jaw.

"I was fifteen when I killed my first Circle mage," he continued. "Didn't even know what I was doing. Just rage. Pure, raw rage. It never left."

He looked up, directly at me.

"You were a slave too, weren't you?"

I nodded.

"They didn't teach me how to fight," I said. "They just taught me how to endure. How to suffer without complaint."

"And how did you escape?" Eira asked.

"I didn't escape," I said slowly. "Kael found me. Saw me survive a cave-in. Said I had fire in me. Took me with him. He trained me. Broke me. Rebuilt me."

"He saved you," she whispered.

"No," I corrected. "He reminded me that my flame wasn't meant to be hidden in chains."

A long silence followed.

For the first time in days, I felt like we weren't just survivors.

We were witnesses. Carriers of memories others would never understand.

🔥 Eira's Truth

"I used to dream of fire," Eira said after a while. "Even when I was buried in the frost. It would come to me in the dark singing. Whispering."

She looked up at us, her eyes wet but unblinking.

"I thought I was cursed. My parents locked me away because I couldn't control it. My mother cried every time I lit a candle with my breath. My father wouldn't even look at me."

"They were afraid," I said.

"No," she replied. "They were broken. The Circle broke them before they ever had me."

She looked at the Scorchspire again.

"But now I know. I wasn't cursed. I was chosen. And I won't hide anymore."

🔥 The Fourth Flame

I pulled out the Pyra Compass.

Its core pulsed with steady energy. Four lights, one brighter than the rest.

"We're not alone," I said. "There's another out there. The fourth flame has awakened."

"Where?" Rion asked, immediately alert.

"Northeast," I said. "Deep within Circle territory. The city of Draventh."

Eira frowned.

"That's dangerous ground."

"We've already crossed a frozen empire, killed a living weapon, and defied ancient law," Rion said with a dry smirk. "What's one cursed city?"

"Cursed?" she asked.

"Everything under the Circle's rule is cursed," he replied. "But we go anyway."

I nodded.

"We leave at dawn."

"And what if it's a trap?" Eira asked.

"Then we spring it. Together."

🔥 In the Trees… Eyes Watch

Far above us, beyond the frozen cliffs and wind-worn pines, someone watched.

Wrapped in a cloak of shadow and feathers, her silver mask reflecting the moonlight, the Circle's most elusive agent crouched silently on a narrow ledge.

Nyx, the Raven of Draventh.

She whispered into a bone mirror, her voice barely audible over the wind.

"They survived."

The mirror pulsed.

"The Flamebreaker?"

"Destroyed. The girl carries the Scorchspire. The slave leads. The noble follows."

The voice inside the mirror was like oil slick, poisonous.

"Do not engage. Observe. When the time is right… take them."

"Understood," she said.

She pocketed the mirror, pulled her hood tight, and disappeared into the night.

🔥 Tomorrow Burns

The fire crackled lower.

Eira eventually leaned her head against my shoulder. Rion leaned back, his arms crossed but his eyes watchful.

None of us slept.

We were no longer just a band of runaways.

We were a spark.

And tomorrow, we would carry that spark into the very heart of the empire.