Raine woke slowly, her body heavy, her breath shallow. The morning air pressed down on her chest like a weight, and when she blinked, her eyes burned as though she had been staring at fire even in her sleep. She lay still for a long moment, trying to shake the haze, until she realized something was wrong.
She wasn't alone.
Her heart lurched.
Beside her bed, an old woman sat as if she had been there the whole night. Her posture was frail, but there was strength in the way she held her chin high, her back slightly curved like a bow drawn and ready to release.
What struck Raine most was the woman's hair—red streaks ran through it, dulled by silver, like embers that had refused to die even after the fire had gone cold. Her skin was lined, her face weathered, but her eyes… her eyes glowed faintly, holding something ancient, something that seemed to look straight through Raine's bones.
Raine's pulse pounded in her ears. "Wh-who are you?"
The woman didn't move at first. She simply studied Raine, her lips pressed into a thin line as though she was measuring her, weighing her worth. When she finally spoke, her voice was low, cracked by age, yet steady, carrying a strange authority that filled the room.
"Darph burns."
The words chilled Raine instantly. She pushed herself upright, clutching the blanket against her chest. "What?"
The old woman's eyes seemed to glow brighter. "The Phoenix Realm cries for its heir. Chaos devours it. Fire turns upon fire. And only one can calm the storm."
Raine's hands trembled. "Darph? What is Darph?"
The woman tilted her head slightly, her gaze softening, almost sorrowful. "Your homeland. The blood in your veins ties you to it. The fire in your hair, in your spirit, is not from this place. It belongs to Darph. And Darph belongs to you."
Raine's chest tightened. "No," she whispered, shaking her head. "I already know what people have been saying—I'm not… I don't want this. I don't want to be anyone's heir."
The old woman leaned closer, and for a fleeting moment, her face was illuminated by something more than light. "It is not about want, child. It is about truth. The blood of flame runs in you. Whether you accept it or not, you are Darph's light… or you are its ruin."
Her voice echoed strangely in the room, as though the very walls had taken her words and repeated them. Raine gripped the blanket tighter, her heart racing.
"I—stop," she stammered. "Stop talking like that!"
The woman's eyes softened again. "Darph waits."
And then, before Raine could ask anything more, before she could reach out or scream, the woman dissolved before her very eyes. Her form shimmered, blurred, and broke apart like smoke carried away on a sudden wind. The air was left with the faint scent of ash, the lingering heat of something that should not have been there.
Raine gasped and scrambled back, her breaths sharp and uneven. This was not a dream. She had felt the bed shift under the woman's weight. She had heard the creak of her chair. This had happened in her room, in real life.
Her chest ached with panic. She couldn't stay here.
Throwing off the blanket, Raine stumbled to her feet and ran. The door slammed behind her as she bolted from the house, her mother's voice faint in the distance calling her name, but Raine didn't stop. She tore down the dirt path, her bare feet striking the earth, her nightdress whipping against her legs.
She ran until the village faded behind her and the forest opened its arms wide.
The woods were cool and shadowed, the morning sun breaking through the branches in fractured beams of gold. Birds startled from their perches at her sudden intrusion. Her breaths came ragged, her throat burning with the weight of questions she could not carry.
And then she saw him.
The Guardian stood among the trees as though he had been waiting for her. His tall figure was still, his presence both commanding and strangely calm. The faint breeze stirred his cloak, but his eyes remained steady, watching her approach.
Raine slowed, stumbling to a halt, clutching her chest. "There was—there was a woman," she gasped. "Old, with red hair. She was in my room. She spoke of Darph. She said it was burning, that it needed an heir."
The Guardian's brows lowered slightly, his expression unreadable. For a long moment, he didn't answer. Finally, his voice came low, even. "I do not know the woman. But what she spoke of is true."
Raine's breath caught. "Then… then Darph—it's real? Not just a name?"
The Guardian inclined his head slowly. "Yes. Darph is not a story, nor a ruin. It is the Phoenix Realm—your homeland. Once it was ruled by fire and order. But since your father's death, it has been without a rightful heir. Now, factions tear at each other, each too weak to claim the throne. The realm burns itself apart."
Her chest constricted. The words cut sharper because they were not new. She had heard whispers of it before—pieces of her father's legacy, fragments of her bloodline. And yet, hearing it here, in the quiet of the forest, made it feel like a chain tightening around her throat.
"My homeland…" she whispered, the words tasting strange on her tongue.
The Guardian nodded once. "It is where you came from, Raine. Where your father came from. And where your fire will always belong."
Her hands curled into fists. "But I told you—I don't want this. I don't want to be the heir of a broken realm!"
The Guardian's gaze lingered on her, unreadable, calm, but there was something flickering beneath it. Something almost sorrowful. "Want has nothing to do with what you are. The fire in your veins is not a choice. It is truth."
Raine shook her head violently, stepping back. "No. No, I won't. I won't accept it. I'm just me. I'm not—" her voice broke, "—I'm not their heir."
Silence hung between them, heavy and suffocating. The forest seemed to hold its breath, the wind quieting, the leaves stilling.
And then it came.
A vision. Sudden, sharp, vivid.
The trees faded. The forest blurred. And Raine was somewhere else entirely.
She saw the Guardian—but not as he was now. He was younger, his eyes brighter, his face softened with a warmth she had never known him to carry. He was smiling. A gentle, tender smile. The kind of smile one gives to someone they love.
And he was looking at her.
Or not her—someone through her eyes. A girl who looked like her but wasn't. A girl whose presence lingered in the depths of Raine's soul, though she had no name to give her yet.
Raine's breath caught. Her chest clenched painfully as the vision dissolved, leaving her trembling.
She blinked, and the forest was back. The Guardian stood before her, unchanged, unaware of what she had just seen. His expression was calm, steady, as though nothing had shifted.
But for Raine, everything had.
She pressed her lips together, burying the vision deep in her chest. She could not tell him. Not yet. Not when she didn't understand what it meant.
Her fists trembled.
Darph. My homeland. My father's realm. My curse.
No matter how she tried to run, no matter how she denied it, the flames were already calling her name.
The truth of Darph is out, but Raine's denial is stronger than ever. Even so, the fire won't let her go.