The wind howled across the Ember Outlands.
It scraped over burnt stone and sleeping embers, winding its way through the scattered ruins of old watchtowers and whispering through the bones of forgotten villages. Here, far from the jeweled cities of the Elemental Kingdoms, time moved slowly—like ash drifting through dusk.
But April moved faster than time.
She ran along the cliff's edge barefoot, leaping from rock to rock with the agility of a flame in motion. Her crimson cloak snapped behind her like wings made of heat. Dust streaked her cheeks. Her eyes burned—not just from the wind, but from the ache in her chest. That restless pull. That unanswered question.
"Where do I come from?"
The thought haunted her every time the wind shifted, every time she dreamed of fire that wasn't her own.
She skidded to a stop atop the highest peak, breathing hard. Below her, the valley sprawled in orange and gray. Smoke curled lazily from blackened trees. The Ashwood Forest—burnt in a war no one talked about. April had asked the villagers once. They had only looked away.
She hated that.
She hated secrets.
"April!" a voice called behind her, gruff but familiar.
She turned to see Master Eldric, her guardian, climbing the path with a worn staff in hand and his usual scowl in place. The man was half-legend, half-shadow. A healer. A fighter. A man with more past than future. But he had raised her. Taught her how to survive. And how to hide.
"You're avoiding your lessons again," he said, reaching her with a wheeze. "We're on pressure points today."
"Pressure points are boring," she replied. "Dreams are more useful."
He froze. "Dreams?"
She nodded. "The same one. Fire. A woman with flame-colored hair… and a mirror that bleeds light."
His expression darkened. "You're letting your imagination run wild again."
"But it felt real."
He grabbed her arm gently but firmly. "April. You must never chase dreams. In this world, dreams get people killed."
She yanked her wrist back. "Maybe. Or maybe they tell us who we really are."
The golden birthmark on her inner wrist flickered faintly—just for a second—before fading. Eldric's eyes followed it. His grip tightened for a heartbeat, then he released her.
"Come back," he said softly. "Before the others notice. You're different, April. Don't give them more reasons to fear you."
But it was too late for that.
🏚️ The Village Below – Nightfall
April sat alone near the fire pit outside Eldric's hut. The flames were low, crackling like bones. Villagers passed by and gave her a wide berth, their eyes shifting away when she looked up.
She saw it in them. Fear.
They whispered about the time the sky turned orange when she got upset. The way animals calmed—or fled—when she walked past. The time the healer's shed caught fire with no lantern nearby.
They didn't say it out loud.
But she felt it.
"Witch."
"Cursed."
"Not one of us."
She stared into the flames.
If I'm not one of them… who am I?
🌑 That Night – A Voice in the Dark
The dream returned.
But it was sharper this time.
She stood in a hall of fire, stone melting under her feet. A woman with golden-red hair knelt before her—bleeding from the palm, pressing a glowing hand to April's chest.
"You are the flame," the woman said, voice breaking. "You are the storm."
Behind her, the Sacred Mirror appeared. And inside it, a thousand eyes opened. Watching.
Then—
A scream.
A blade.
A flash of violet moonlight.
April gasped and bolted upright in bed, sweat clinging to her skin. Her hand clutched her chest, over the place where her heart still burned with the echo of the dream.
Then she heard it.
A whisper—not in her mind, but in the room.
"She's awake…"
April turned slowly. Her window was wide open, the wind curling in.
And standing outside, just beyond the shadow of the tree line…
Was a figure cloaked in silver.
Watching her.
Waiting.
✨ Quote Teaser
"The stars remember what the world forgets. And now... they begin to speak.