**
The Ember Syndicate was no longer rumor.
Not just whispers in the tunnels. Not just shadows in the dorms. They were a structure now—a pulse beating beneath the rotting skin of Blackmoor. A dozen trained initiates. Three lieutenants. One vision.
But power invites exposure.
And the first fire was about to spark.
---
🔥 *The Initiation*
The night was bitter with rain, but inside the hidden basement chamber—once a cesspool of rot and forgotten screams—there was warmth from the torchlight, and tension from the gathered initiates.
They knelt in a circle. Boys and girls, bruised and narrow-eyed, palms open to receive the *Brand of Ash*.
Ruby stood at the center, blade unsheathed. The room smelled of steel, smoke, and boiled herbs.
Thorne entered last, his cloak still damp. His presence silenced the whispers.
> "Tonight," he said, "you stop being prey. You stop being forgotten. Tonight, you become ghosts with names, blades with purpose."
He turned to Ruby, who held out the brand: a jagged metal symbol, red-hot at the tip. Shaped like a twisted flame wrapped in a thorned circle.
> "You may run from fate," he said, "but you *choose* the Syndicate."
Each initiate stepped forward.
Each bore the brand.
Some flinched. One cried. None refused.
The Ember Syndicate had its first generation of assassins.
---
đź‘‘ *Lysena's Chains*
Above them, in the west wing, *Lysena Valehart* was peeling apart the seals binding her magic.
She'd spent a week watching.
She saw the patterns. How Thorne moved people with words sharper than any sword. How Ruby commanded the younger assassins with silent looks. How Rikkan's network of spies extended even into the guard barracks.
And she wanted in.
Badly.
But first, she had to *break her chains.*
At midnight, she sat alone in the infirmary where she'd been assigned as a false nurse. She stared into a cracked mirror, tracing the glowing rune on her collarbone.
> "Bound by blood and spell," she whispered. "But not by will."
She drew a needle from her sleeve—one of Rikkan's—and jabbed it into her skin just above the rune.
Pain. Magic. Resistance.
Then—
A *snap.*
The light flickered out.
And her power roared back like a storm breaking through a door.
---
🩸 *The First Kill*
Back in the tunnels, one of the youngest trainees—*Jessa*, only twelve—returned from her first test: to tail a corrupt guard and steal his logbook.
She returned shaking, but alive.
> "He saw me," she whispered. "He followed me back."
Rikkan cursed. Ruby reached for her dagger. Thorne raised a hand.
> "We don't panic. We plan."
They watched through the cracks as the guard stormed through the storage hall, torch in one hand, knife in the other.
He found the trapdoor.
He opened it.
And he died.
Ruby dropped from the shadows above, landing on his shoulders and driving her blade into his throat. Quick. Surgical.
Jessa stared, wide-eyed.
> "Lesson one," Ruby said, wiping her blade. "When you get caught… let him follow you *home.*"
---
🕯️ *The Pact of Fire*
Later that night, Lysena came to Thorne, her magic crackling like blue fire in her palms.
> "I broke the seal."
Thorne arched a brow.
> "Good. Then you're ready."
> "For what?"
> "To be the fourth pillar."
Lysena blinked. "You're serious."
> "You're a noble. A mage. You know how to speak to the outside. One day we'll need masks for the world. And we'll need a flame they can see without knowing it'll burn them."
> "You want me to be the Syndicate's mask."
> "And dagger. And ember."
She hesitated, then held out her hand. Sparks danced across her fingertips.
> "Then brand me."
Ruby stepped forward, meeting her eyes with cautious respect.
> "You'll scream."
> "I've screamed before."
And she didn't. Not once.
---
🌑 *Ash in the Wind*
The following week, the first assassination was ordered.
A low-level noble, *Sir Mathan Brel*, had been quietly buying children from Blackmoor under false names, using them in forbidden rituals for longevity. Rikkan uncovered the truth. Ruby prepared the strike. Lysena volunteered to make it political.
Thorne gave the final word.
And under the light of a blood moon, three masked figures slipped through the manor's windows.
They didn't just kill Brel.
They *exposed* him.
His ledger was nailed to the city gates. His corpse was found draped in velvet, eyes burned out and mouth sewn shut.
The kingdom whispered a name in fear for the first time:
> *"The Ember Syndicate."*
---
đź’€ *End of Chapter 5*
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