Smoke drifted from the forge's upper vents.
Ember stood at the edge of the rebel compound, her palms still raw from yesterday's fire shaping. The morning was quiet—too quiet for her liking. Every breath felt heavy with warning.
Kael appeared behind her, slipping a knife into the sheath at his hip.
"You feel that?" she asked.
He nodded once. "Someone's coming."
The alarm didn't come with a bell.
It came with silence.
The forge workers froze. The scouts on the outer ridges vanished. Ember barely had time to turn before Mira stormed into the corridor.
"We've got a hunter," Mira said tightly. "Scouts say it's a Seeker. Royal. Masked."
Kael stiffened. "They sent a Seeker?"
"What's a Seeker?" Ember asked.
Mira looked at her grimly. "A walking bloodhound with a sword for a tongue. They're trained to track firebloods—sniff you out by your heat. Killers born and bred by the Flame King himself."
Kael turned to Ember. "You need to hide."
"No," Ember said. "I can fight."
"You've barely begun training—"
"Then let me learn."
He hesitated, eyes burning with conflict. Then—finally—he nodded.
"Fine. You stay with me."
They took the upper tunnel—one of the few escape routes carved through obsidian rock. Ember followed Kael closely, her hand hovering over the dagger Mira had shoved into her belt.
The first sign of the Seeker came as a ripple in the air—a heat that didn't belong to the forge.
Then the sound of metal scraping stone.
Kael stopped, pulling Ember behind a support pillar. The corridor ahead shimmered. A figure stepped through—tall, lean, cloaked in black flame-silk. A mirrored mask hid their face, but their aura burned.
They spoke in a voice that seemed to echo from the stones themselves.
"You carry the stolen flame, girl."
Kael stepped forward. "She carries nothing that belongs to you."
The Seeker tilted their head. "She carries the crown's bond. And soon, she'll carry death."
Ember didn't wait.
She threw her hand forward, flame surging from her palm in a burst. It crashed into the Seeker like a wave—but when the fire cleared, the figure still stood.
Unaffected.
The Seeker lifted one hand—and fire obeyed them.
It turned, twisted, and roared back toward her.
Kael tackled Ember just in time, rolling them both behind the pillar as fire exploded over the stone.
Ember coughed, heart pounding. "How are they controlling my fire?"
"They're bonded to the King's blood magic," Kael said grimly. "They can reflect what they don't fear."
"Then I need to make them afraid."
They fought through the tunnels—Kael throwing blades, Ember hurling flame. The Seeker was relentless, silent, dancing through the smoke like a shadow.
Finally, Kael was struck—his side slashed, blood spilling.
He fell hard.
"No!" Ember shouted, fury rising.
She ran to him, dropping to her knees. "Kael—"
"I'm fine," he gasped. "Behind you."
She turned just in time to see the Seeker closing in, blade raised.
Instinct screamed. Her heart roared.
The fire came—not as a spark, but as a torrent.
It erupted around her, white-hot and furious, forming a shield that scorched the tunnel walls. The Seeker stumbled back, mask cracked.
Ember stepped forward, flames curling from her shoulders like a cloak.
"You wanted fire?" she said. "Burn with me."
She thrust both hands out—and the fire answered.
The Seeker screamed, staggered, then vanished in a wave of smoke.
When the heat finally died down, Ember dropped to her knees beside Kael. His shirt was soaked with blood, his skin pale.
"You're an idiot," she said, voice shaking. "Why didn't you let me fight from the start?"
Kael gave her a weak grin. "Because I thought I was the shield. Turns out… you're the wildfire."
She helped him up, looping his arm over her shoulders.
As they limped back toward the forge, something settled between them. A quiet understanding. A tether neither wanted to admit aloud.
They weren't just allies now.
They were bonded by battle.
Elsewhere – The Citadel of Embers
The Seeker knelt before the Flame King, mask shattered, breath ragged.
"She is awakening," the Seeker whispered. "The girl… she is unlike the others."
Tharos's fingers tightened on the obsidian throne.
"And the boy?"
"Still at her side. Still bleeding for her."
Tharos stood.
"Then we burn the rebellion to ash. Let them all bleed."