The Master’s Shadow

The Citadel of Embersplit rose from the volcanic spine of Mount Velros like an ember-hardened god, shaped by fire and time. Its blackened towers stabbed the ash-hung sky, and molten veins glowed faintly beneath obsidian stone as if the whole fortress were alive, breathing heat with every gust of wind. The gates—etched with runes that pulsed red and gold—parted not with sound, but with silence, as if it knew the weight of those it welcomed.

Star's breath hitched as she and Keal crossed the threshold into the citadel's vast inner courtyard. The stones beneath her boots were warm, almost whispering secrets into the soles of her feet. Towering statues lined the outer walls—heroes or monsters of ancient wars, their faces worn, their weapons etched with battle scars. Some bore horns, others wings, and a few were hollow-eyed, as if watching without sight.

Keal walked beside her, hands clasped behind his back, his voice low but calm. "This is your new home, Star. The place where you'll either forge yourself into something more… or be shattered by what lies ahead."

She nodded once, silent as always. Her throat tightened at the mention of home. The last place she'd called that was a smoldering ruin, and her mother's last scream still echoed in her bones.

"Don't fall behind," Keal said, leading her through a tall arched corridor. The air shifted as they moved deeper—cool stone blending with heat from forges and magic. The corridors branched like veins, and each door hummed with sealed energy.

They passed a handful of other figures—some cloaked, some armored, some barefoot and draped in flickering enchantments. One young woman was levitating upside-down, reading a tome that dripped blue flame. No one spared star more than a glance, but she felt the weight of unseen eyes pressing in.

They stopped before a pair of massive double doors carved with the image of a phoenix caught in chains. Keal pushed them open with a pulse of his palm, revealing a domed chamber where light danced through floating orbs, illuminating bookshelves, maps, weapons, and relics suspended midair.

At the center stood a figure draped in a mantle of ash-colored silk, facing away from them, hands folded behind his back. His presence was still but suffocating—like the moment before a storm.

"Arakos," Keal announced. "She's arrived."

The man turned.

He was tall and lean, with silver-threaded black hair falling loosely over his shoulders. His face bore no warmth, only sharp control. His eyes were like mirrors of obsidian, reflecting only what they chose to see. And when they landed on Star, she felt a flicker of cold magic press against her soul.

"You're late," Arakos said.

Star opened her mouth, then shut it again. The words never came.

"She doesn't speak," Keal interjected, a slight edge in his voice.

Arakos stepped forward. "We'll see if that remains true. Silence is a luxury few can afford here."

He circled her once, slowly, taking her in. "You carry the mark of fire—but it burns you, rather than bends. We'll need to fix that. If you survive."

Keal's brow tensed, but he said nothing.

"She won't begin training until the new moon," Arakos continued. "Three cycles from now. Until then, she'll observe, learn our customs, and find her footing. Let her wander—but not too far."

"Understood," Keal said.

Arakos turned back to his relics. "Dismissed."

Keal led Star out without another word. The moment the doors closed behind them, he released a breath. "He's not cruel," he muttered, "just carved from stone."

They passed through more winding halls, climbing a narrow spiral stair into the upper levels of the citadel. Outside, clouds dragged across the sky like bruises, casting strange shadows over the training fields. Below, students hurled bolts of lightning or sparred with weapons imbued by flame and ice. Above, dragons—smaller, riderless ones—circled watchtowers on leathery wings.

Keal paused before a modest wooden door. "This is your room," he said. "Don't expect comfort—it'll be spartan, but safe. You'll be assigned chores, lectures, and duties until formal training begins."

He opened the door. Inside was a stone room no larger than a stable stall, but clean. A cot with grey sheets, a trunk at its foot, and a small iron-banded desk. A single enchanted candle floated above the desk, burning without smoke.

Lira stepped inside. It wasn't much—but for the first time in a long time, it wasn't ruin.

"I'll return tomorrow," Keal said. "You'll meet someone tonight—another student. Try not to scowl."

She rolled her eyes.

He smirked. "There she is."

Then he vanished down the stairwell.

Alone, Star sat on the cot, listening. The silence here was different—not empty, but watchful. Like the citadel itself was waiting to see what she'd do.

Night came quickly in Embersplit, and with it came the girl.

She was tall and elegant, with dark umber skin, glowing freckles, and a shock of white curls pulled into a high tail. She wore a robe of deep blue layered with armored plates, and she moved with dancer's ease. Her eyes—brilliant gold—met Star's with quiet assessment.

"Hey," she said. "I'm Sarai. They told me I'd be your guide for the next few days. I volunteered. Better me than the others—they'd probably haze you until your bones fell out."

Star blinked at her. Sarai waited for a reply, then frowned slightly. "You don't talk?"

A hesitant shake of the head.

"Cool," Sarai said, stepping in and sitting on the desk. "Silent types are way more mysterious anyway. You've got the brooding stare down pat. I like it."

Star raised an eyebrow.

Sarai grinned. "See? That's the look."

Despite herself, Lira felt something ease in her chest. This girl wasn't trying to pry, wasn't pushing questions. Just existing beside her.

"You'll like it here," Sarai said eventually, voice softening. "Or at least… you'll survive it. I didn't think I would, when I first came. But things change. We change."

She stood. "Tomorrow I'll show you the eating halls, the lesser libraries, and the rooftop gardens. Don't wander alone. Some places bite."

Lira nodded.

Sarai gave her a two-fingered salute and stepped back toward the hall. "Sleep deep, mystery girl. The Citadel dreams in fire."

And with that, she was gone.

Lira lay back on the cot. Through the small circular window above her, she saw the moons cresting over the peaks—one pale, one blood-red. Together, they cast a strange silver blush over the Citadel, making it shimmer like something alive.

Below, she heard distant chants. Somewhere, bells rang in rhythmic patterns—perhaps a ritual, or a warding.

She didn't know what tomorrow would bring. But for the first time in years, she wasn't running. She was still.

And she wasn't alone.