The next morning came slower than usual. The pale light of dawn seeped through the dormitory windows of Emberthorn Academy, cool and uncertain. I blinked at the ceiling, groggy and disoriented, until a dull ache in my palm reminded me why.
"Right... yesterday." I sat up, rubbing my eyes. The sigils still glowed faintly beneath my skin, shimmering just beneath the surface like molten gold.
This was supposed to be a school day. Supposed to be normal. But the Emberborn Oath had changed everything.
Knock knock knock.
"Elira! Are you alive in there?" Riven's voice, muffled through the door, brought me back to reality.
"Yeah! Gimme a minute!" I scrambled to get dressed. The ring—the one the Masked One left me—lay on my desk, gleaming faintly. I hesitated before slipping it onto my finger.
No reaction. But it felt like it was watching.
Outside in the hallway, Riven handed me a steaming mug of something herbal. Mint. Maybe lemon? It was hard to focus.
"Professor Talwyn sent it," Riven said, sipping her own. "Said it might help with the whole 'chosen by ancient flame' thing."
I tried not to groan. "Tell me this gets easier."
Riven snorted. "You want easy? Transfer to Rainfall Academy."
I sipped the tea. It tasted like burned flowers. "Remind me never to complain again."
We found a quiet corner in the East Study Hall. Riven pulled the letter from my satchel and laid it on the table.
To the new Flamebearer— There are others. Hidden. Waiting. Some afraid. Some forgotten. You are the first, but not the last. They will need your fire to find their own. Be ready.
V.
"Any guesses on who 'V' is?" Riven asked, eyes narrowing.
I shook my head. "Could be Virel. Could be someone else entirely."
"What about the ring?"
I hesitated, then placed my hand on the table. The sigil on my palm pulsed faintly. The ring shimmered, then flared with a sudden glow.
WHOOSH.
We both jumped as a gust of warm wind swept past us, flipping pages from a nearby book. The sound of faint humming filled the air.
"Did you hear that?" Riven asked, standing.
I nodded slowly. "It's calling. Follow it."
The sound led us down into the archives. The oldest part of the academy—a place few dared to enter without permission. Riven lit her palm with a spark of flame.
There, in the back corner, under layers of dust and silence, we found it: a book bound in blackened leather.
"Chronicles of the Hidden Emberborn."
The moment I touched it, memories poured into me.
A girl lighting peonies on fire.
A boy carving sigils into his skin.
A circle of students under a blood-red moon, reciting ancient verses.
I staggered back.
"Elira?!"
"I'm fine. I saw them. The others." My heart pounded. "They're real. They're here."
We started that day with a list.
1. Elina Flamewood — Ashthorn Hall. 2. Asher Embercliff — Second-year, Tower Wing. 3. Sabine Corvayne — Potions Mistress. 4. Dorian Zephyros — Conjuration Professor. 5. Tara and Felix Runeward — Third-years, Spellbreaking.
"We find them. Quietly," I said, clutching the Chronicle.
"And what then?" Riven asked.
I looked her dead in the eyes.
"We form the Circle again. Before the Echo of Ash does."