Chapter Summary:
The Emberguard prepares for its first mission outside the Citadel — into the fringes of the Emberlands where whispers of Frostbound sightings and loyalist activity are on the rise. Echo grapples with an uneasy strategy: granting amnesty to former enemies in hopes of gaining intelligence. But trust comes at a cost, and the line between survival and betrayal grows thinner.
Chapter 94: Between Flame and Frost
The Citadel gates opened with a solemn groan, and the Emberguard rode out.
Their crimson cloaks rippled in the wind, catching the morning sun like embers tossed from a fire. Dima led them, spine straight, eyes sharp, her newly forged dagger strapped to her thigh. Her mount, a sleek silver-furred bred from the northern flames, snorted steam into the cool air.
They weren't just scouting.
They were declaring that Ember no longer waited to be attacked.
It anticipated.
And it remembered.
Echo watched them ride until they vanished into the tree line.
Kael stood beside her, silent.
"You still think it's too soon?" she asked without turning.
"No," he said. "I think it's just soon enough to be dangerous."
Echo exhaled slowly. "She needs this. They all do."
"She's still just a girl."
Echo finally looked at him. "So was I. Once."
Later that day, the Council convened once again, but this time it wasn't defense strategy on the table — it was mercy.
"Amnesty?" Braek's voice boomed in disbelief. "To traitors?"
"They followed Veylor, yes," Echo said. "But many were manipulated. Afraid. Desperate. If we give them a chance to come forward, they might tell us what the Frostbound offered them. What they're planning."
Lin leaned forward. "You want to negotiate with those who spilled Ember blood?"
"I want to understand what nearly destroyed us. If that means offering clemency to a few loyalists, then yes."
Tarrek, ever the realist, rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Information's more valuable than revenge. Especially now."
Braek slammed a fist onto the table. "And if it backfires?"
"Then we burn that bridge," Echo said coldly. "But not before we build it."
By evening, the word was out.
A broadcast across the Citadel — and beyond, through hidden channels and courier flames:
"To those who once followed Veylor:
The war is over, but the danger is not.
Come forward. Lay down your flame. Speak, and you will not be punished.
Remain in the shadows… and you risk burning with them."
The offer was real.
And so was the risk.
Dima and her team moved fast.
Their first stop was the ruined outskirts of Thornrise — a city once loyal to the council, razed during the final months of Veylor's campaign. Now, it stood half-reclaimed by nature, frost clinging unnaturally to the stone walls.
"This isn't normal," muttered one Emberguard scout, tracing a finger through the ice. "Frost doesn't hold like this in Emberlands."
Dima crouched and felt the cold with her palm. No trace of flame. No warmth. But etched into the frost on one of the walls was a symbol — two interlocking spirals.
Kael's sketch. From the intercepted message.
The mark of the Frostbound.
They moved inside slowly.
No traps. No movement.
But there was a voice.
A boy — no older than sixteen — stepped from the shadows of a crumbled doorway.
Unarmed.
Burn-scars on his hands, half-healed.
"I saw your signal," he said quietly. "The one about amnesty."
Dima raised a brow. "Name?"
"Cairn."
"Were you loyal to Veylor?"
He hesitated. "I was loyal to his promise. To the food he gave us. The warmth. The lie."
Dima lowered her blade slightly. "Why step out now?"
"Because they're coming," Cairn whispered. "The ones from the ice. And they're worse than anything Veylor ever was."
Back at the Citadel, Kael found Echo in the old library, studying maps of the northern peaks.
"I don't like it," he said.
"You rarely do."
"This boy—Cairn. What if he's bait?"
"He's our only lead."
Kael crossed his arms. "We should interrogate him, not protect him."
"He's a child."
"So were Veylor's spies."
Echo turned, her gaze sharp. "And yet we're here—leading—because someone once gave us the benefit of the doubt."
Kael exhaled, the fire in him dimming slightly. "Then let's be ready. Because if we're wrong…"
"I'll take the blame," Echo said.
"But Ember will burn."
That night, Echo lit a signal flame on the Citadel's tower.
The Emberguard would go further north.
And the game of trust had begun.
Frost and flame. Lies and hope.
In the dark distance, the wind howled — but it was no longer just wind.
It was a warning.