Ariya didn't lower her dagger.
Not yet.
The boy stood still, hands still raised, watching her with sharp, cautious eyes. His clothes were torn, stained with mud and something darker. His hair hung in tangled waves across his brow, and a jagged scar curved along his jaw.
"I don't want trouble," he said, his voice steady. "I just don't want to die tonight. Same as you."
She hesitated. "Who are you?"
He glanced toward the trees, as if expecting something—or someone—to appear. "Name's Kael. I'm from nowhere. Used to be from Greyhill, but… let's just say it's not there anymore."
Ariya's grip loosened slightly on her blade.
"You're running too," she said.
"Not running," he replied. "Surviving."
They stared at each other for a moment, the forest humming quietly around them. A wind brushed through the branches above, scattering ash into the river nearby. Ariya felt the weight of the ring in her pocket again—like it was getting heavier the longer she stood still.
"What do you know about the ring?" she asked finally.
Kael's eyes flicked to her pocket. "Enough to say you should never show it in daylight. That symbol—it's a death sentence. At least, if the wrong people see it."
"But what does it mean?"
Kael sighed and sat down on a mossy log, like he'd decided she wasn't a threat. "It means you belong to a bloodline that's supposed to be gone. Burned, wiped clean, forgotten. The phoenix and the crown—that's the mark of the Fireborn."
Ariya blinked. "Fireborn?"
He nodded. "A line of warrior queens. Long ago, they ruled with magic. Real power. But when the current king's family rose, they hunted them to the last child."
She didn't know what to say.
Because the ring was real. The stories she'd read as a child—they were real.
"Why would my uncle have something like that?" she whispered.
Kael met her gaze. "Because you're not who you think you are."
☁️ Later That Night
They made a small camp near the river. No fire—too risky. Just bread and dried meat Kael had taken from an abandoned caravan. Ariya chewed slowly, her mind turning like a wheel in mud.
She wasn't special. Not powerful. She didn't even know how to use a sword properly. Just a village girl. A girl with calloused hands and scars from the forge.
But then again… she had always felt something else inside her.
A pulling. A strange warmth in her bones, especially when she was angry or afraid. She used to think it was just adrenaline. Or madness. But what if it wasn't?
What if it was magic?
"You should sleep," Kael said softly. "We'll need to move before dawn."
Ariya nodded, but she didn't sleep.
She stared up at the stars, trying to remember her uncle's face, his voice. I wonder why he never told her the truth. Wondering what kind of world she had just stepped into.
She closed her eyes with one thought echoing in her chest.
I don't know who I am.
But I'm going to find out.