The Vale had always been a place of quiet rhythm. Dawn usually came with the sound of roosters crowing across the farmlands, of water being drawn from the well, of Thom's axe echoing against wood. But that morning, the rhythm shattered.
Flames clawed at the sky, swallowing the fields like a hungry beast. The crackle was deafening, a roar louder than any storm. The wind carried ash that stung eyes and choked throats. The air itself seemed to twist with heat, turning the familiar into a nightmare.
Jayden stood frozen.
He had seen fire before—bonfires during festivals, cooking flames in Mira's mother's hearth—but nothing like this. This was alive. This was willful. The inferno bent toward him as though drawn, tongues of flame stretching, curling, reaching.
"Jayden!" Mira's voice pierced through the chaos. Her hand latched onto his sleeve, tugging him backward, away from the blaze. Her eyes were wide with terror, her face streaked with soot, but even in her fear she didn't let go of him.
He staggered after her, stumbling on uneven ground, though his gaze never left the fire. It leaned toward him. He swore he could feel it—like invisible hands brushing across his skin, whispering promises he could not understand.
Kaelen's voice boomed through the haze. The old man stood barely upright, leaning heavily on the carved staff Mira had given him. "Do not run from it, boy. Command it!"
Jayden spun, staring at him in disbelief.
"Command it? It's fire! It's burning everything—"
"Blood answers blood!" Kaelen shouted, his silver eyes glinting with unnatural light. "It knows you. Bend it, or it will consume us all."
Jayden's heart hammered. His hands shook uncontrollably. Command fire? That was impossible. Yet… had he not felt it yesterday by the river, the strange surge in his veins? Had he not seen the flames falter when he raised his hand earlier?
Mira yanked him again, desperation breaking her voice. "Jayden, please—"
Thom's roar cut through her words. The man swung his axe in great arcs at shadowy figures that burst from the flames. Jayden blinked, hardly believing what he saw. They were not men. They were shapes made of smoke and ember, their bodies shifting like restless sparks, eyes burning like coals.
Every time Thom's blade struck, their forms scattered—only to swirl back together again.
Mira hurled a stone at one, but it passed straight through, useless. Another creature surged toward her, its clawed hand reaching. Jayden reacted before he could think. He thrust his hand out.
The fire froze.
The creature halted mid-stride, flames shivering around it. For one impossible heartbeat, the blaze bent backward, curling away from Mira and Thom, bowing toward Jayden instead.
A collective gasp rose from the villagers nearby, those who had been frantically carrying buckets of water. They stopped, staring, their fear shifting into something else—something heavier.
Jayden's arms trembled, his breath shallow. He didn't know what he was doing. He only knew that the fire listened.
The creatures shrieked, lunging again, smoke whirling like a storm. Jayden clenched his fists, and fire lashed out in answer. It whipped across the square, striking the shadow-forms. Their bodies convulsed as flames wrapped them, devouring their smoky cores until they burst into sparks that scattered into the wind.
Jayden staggered. His body shook as though every muscle were tearing itself apart, but the fire still obeyed. Each time he raised his hand, the inferno bent and coiled like a living serpent. It surged where he willed, retreated when he faltered, until the last of the shadow-beasts dissolved into ash.
And then—silence.
The Vale lay in ruins, but the attack was broken. Only smoke drifted now, curling upward like mournful spirits. Villagers stood frozen, buckets slipping from their hands. The only sound was Jayden's ragged breathing.
Flames still danced faintly around his arms, curling like bracelets of molten light. Slowly, hesitantly, they sank into nothing, leaving only a faint heat behind.
Mira caught him as he swayed. Her arms wrapped around him, grounding him.
"Jayden…" she whispered, voice trembling.
"What… what are you?"
He shook his head violently. "I don't know."
But the truth burned inside him like the fire itself. Deep down, he knew.
The villagers did not speak at first. Then whispers rose, sharp and cutting.
"Did you see—"
"He bent fire—"
"No man should have that—"
"It's cursed blood. Elemental blood."
Thom approached slowly, his axe hanging limp at his side. His face was grim, his eyes unreadable. He stopped only a few steps away. "Lad," he said, voice low but steady.
"What have you done?"
Jayden opened his mouth but no words came. He wanted to say he had saved them, that he had stopped the fire, but the words caught in his throat. Because he wasn't sure if it was true.
Mira's grip tightened on him. Her jaw set as she glared at the murmuring villagers. "He saved your lives!" she snapped. "You'd all be ash if not for him."
But her defiance did little to soften their fear. The people of the Vale had seen something that defied their world. And fear, Jayden realized, was stronger than gratitude.
Hours bled into one another as the villagers worked to douse the last embers, to count the wounded, to gather the dead. Jayden moved among them like a ghost. Every glance clung to him. Some eyes were thankful, most suspicious. Children were pulled back by their mothers when they wandered too close to him.
He tried to help, carrying water, lifting beams, but no one let him near. Even Thom kept his distance, speaking only when necessary, his words short and clipped.
Only Mira stayed at his side, though even she seemed torn. Once, when his hand brushed hers, she flinched before forcing herself not to. The small betrayal cut deeper than any wound.
When night fell, Kaelen found him. The old man sat on a stone near the well, his cloak ragged and scorched. Yet his presence was unshaken, his silver eyes bright as the moon.
"You felt it," Kaelen said simply.
Jayden stood stiff. "I don't know what I felt."
"You do." The old man's voice was calm, implacable. "The fire answered you because you are its blood. You are no common son of the Vale. Your family's roots lie beyond the veil, in Aetherion. The spark in you cannot be hidden."
Jayden's breath caught. He turned away, staring at the blackened skeletons of houses.
"I never asked for this. I never wanted any of it."
"Want or no," Kaelen replied, "blood will speak. Today it screamed. Tomorrow it will roar."
Jayden clenched his fists, nails biting into his palms. His skin still tingled faintly, the echo of fire whispering in his veins. He had saved them—but at what cost? Every glance, every whisper told him the truth. He was no longer one of them.
He lifted his gaze toward the charred horizon, the night sky heavy with smoke. His home was no longer the safe haven it had been. It was a place of suspicion, of fear. And though he had no answers, he knew this: whatever burned inside him was far from finished.
And the Vale would never be the same again.