Chapter Seventeen: The Fifth Flame

You can run from chains.

You can run from fate.

But the flame that calls your name

Will always find you.

🌲 The Forest That Watched

The redwood forest surrounding us was vast and strangely quiet. Ancient trees rose like the pillars of a forgotten temple, their bark gnarled and hollow in places, their roots twisting through the mist-covered soil like sleeping serpents.

We'd escaped the catacombs beneath Draventh but the world above was no less dangerous. If anything, it felt even more tense.

"They'll be hunting us," Rion said, his eyes scanning the treetops as we moved. "We just crippled one of their core containment chambers and freed a classified prisoner."

"Taren's not a prisoner anymore," I replied, glancing over my shoulder.

He walked behind me, a little slower than the rest, but each step steadier than the last. His body still carried the tremors of trauma but his fire no longer flickered out of control. It glowed softly now, like a heart finding rhythm again.

"No," Rion said, "but they'll still see him that way."

🔥 The Flame's Pull

We traveled deeper into the forest, guided by the Pyra Compass, which now pulsed with a firm, unwavering glow.

The fifth flameborn.

Their presence grew stronger the farther we wentlike a tether pulling at my chest. This one felt different. Not erratic like Taren's had been when suppressed. Not dormant. But... deliberate.

As though they knew we were coming.

"They're waiting," I murmured.

Eira raised a brow. "You can tell that from the Compass?"

"No," I said. "I can feel it. In my fire."

She didn't question further. She'd begun to trust my instincts.

But even so, the deeper we went, the heavier the air became.

🏚️ The Silent Village

By dusk, we stumbled upon what looked like an abandoned village.wooden homes half-sunken into the ground, stone paths overgrown with weeds, and a crumbled tower that might have once been a watchpost.

Taren froze as we entered the ruins.

"I know this place," he whispered. "They brought me through here on my way to Draventh. It was still burning back then."

Burning. That meant this village had been one of the Circle's early targets.

Likely filled with flameborn… now long gone.

"It's too quiet," Rion muttered.

He was right.

No insects. No birds. No wind.

The stillness here wasn't natural.

🕯️ Whispers in the Flame

Suddenly, the Compass in my palm pulsed harder.

Brighter.

And then

A voice echoed in my head.

"You've come far, Jace Emberlin. But why?"

I stumbled, nearly dropping the Compass.

"Did you hear that?" I asked the others.

They shook their heads.

"Only you," Eira said. "What did it say?"

"My name. It knows me."

"Flame-speak," she whispered. "It's rare. Ancient flameborn could project thoughts through fire communicate across distance and silence. But it only works if the listener's fire is... aligned."

My fire had never aligned with anyone.

Not even Eira.

So why now?

🌋 The Fifth Appears

From behind the collapsed tower, a shadow moved.

Slow. Calm. Deliberate.

A figure stepped into view, wrapped in long robes of ash-gray and crimson, with a black veil covering their face. Strange tattoos glowed faintly from beneath their sleeves, and their steps stirred embers from the earth.

They were barefoot.

Unbothered by thorns, stones, or fear.

"So it's true," the voice said not with lips, but directly into our minds. "The others survived. The Compass found you."

The air warmed unnaturally.

I stepped forward.

"You're the fifth flameborn."

The figure nodded once.

Then lifted their veil.

😨 The Face of Betrayal

I stared.

The person standing before me wasn't a stranger.

It was a girl.

No—a woman now. But I knew those eyes.

I'd seen them years ago.

When I was still a boy chained in the Lower Citadel. When I still believed escape was impossible.

She was the one who had helped me.

Fed me stolen bread.

Whispered tales of freedom.

And then vanished.

"Lyra?" I whispered.

Her expression didn't soften.

"You remember," she said.

Eira stepped forward, eyes narrowing. "Who is she?"

"She's the first flameborn I ever met. I thought she was dead."

"They tried," Lyra replied. "But I wasn't worth killing, not yet. So they used me instead."

💔 Truths That Burn

We sat in what remained of the village square, the fire between us crackling without wood or fuel sustained by magic alone.

Lyra spoke in a tone cold and controlled, as though she had trained herself never to feel too much.

"After they caught me, they broke me down," she said. "They didn't want just a weapon. They wanted a spy. One they could control. One they could place among rebels."

"You turned on them?" I asked, cautiously.

She looked up.

Eyes glowing faint gold.

"No. I let them turn on themselves."

She opened her hand.

Flames danced between her fingers flames that flickered between white, red, and blue.

"I became something more than they expected. My fire evolved."

"What do you mean?" Eira asked.

Lyra met my eyes.

"I'm not the fifth flameborn. I'm the first. And I've been waiting for the rest of you to wake up."

⚖️ The Gathering Storm

The Compass glowed once more.

Now, instead of five lights

Six.

A new flicker had appeared.

Faint. Flickering. But real.

"There's another," Rion muttered. "Another survivor."

Lyra nodded.

"They'll keep coming. The Circle scattered us. But they underestimated the fire that binds us. Each of you... carries part of a legacy older than the Empire."

She stood.

"But the Empire has noticed. And they are afraid."

From her robe, she drew a sealed letter.

The wax bore the mark of the Circle.

"This was sent to me. As a warning. Or maybe an offer."

She threw it into the fire.

The flames consumed it instantly, revealing the message inside in golden lettering, hovering above the fire like magic:

"Surrender the flameborn. Or all of Valtherra burns."

🔥 Let It Burn

Silence.

No one moved.

No one breathed.

Then Eira stood.

"If they want war"

"They'll have it," I said, cutting her off.

I looked at Lyra.

"We're with you."

She smiled faintly.

"Then the fire has truly begun to rise."