The night after the fire was heavy with smoke, and though the flames were gone, their memory clung stubbornly to the Vale. Houses smoldered in ruins, the air choked with ash. Families huddled together in silence, their faces hollow with fear.
But Jayden could not sleep.
He sat alone at the edge of the village, where the farmland turned to wild meadow. The cool wind brushed over the fields, carrying faint embers away into the dark. His thoughts spun in endless circles. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw fire curling around his arms, saw Mira's flinch, saw the villagers' accusing stares.
"Elemental blood."
The words hissed in his ears.
He pressed his palms into the dirt, grounding himself, but it only reminded him of the warmth that still lingered in his veins. It had not faded, even hours later. The fire was alive inside him, whispering, waiting.
A crunch of boots broke his thoughts.
Kaelen emerged from the dark, his cloak drawn tightly around him. He moved slower than he had that morning, the fire's toll weighing on him, but his silver eyes gleamed with clarity. In his hands he carried a small bundle wrapped in old cloth.
"You should rest," Jayden muttered without looking at him.
"So should you," the old man replied, lowering himself beside Jayden with a wince. He set the bundle between them. "But sleep does not come easy when the world begins to shift beneath your feet."
Jayden glanced at the bundle warily. "What's that?"
Kaelen loosened the cloth, revealing a dagger unlike any Jayden had seen. Its blade shimmered faintly in the moonlight, etched with lines that pulsed like veins. The hilt was of silver and obsidian, carved with a sigil that looked almost alive.
"This," Kaelen said softly, "is not of the Vale. It is forged in Aetherion. Your family's mark lies upon it."
Jayden stiffened. His voice cracked. "My family?"
Kaelen studied him carefully. "You have always wondered about the silence, the absence. About why Thom never speaks of your blood, why your questions go unanswered."
Jayden clenched his fists. He had asked countless times who his real parents were, but Thom always brushed him aside with some excuse or silence. He had grown used to the emptiness, but never at peace with it.
"They were not of this world," Kaelen continued. "Your father wielded flame. Your mother, the river's tide. Together, they were strong enough to hold back the Shadow's reach for years. But power draws enemies, and sacrifice is the price. They sent you here, hidden, so you might live a life untouched by war."
Jayden's chest tightened. The words felt like fire themselves, searing and undeniable. "So I've been… a secret? My whole life?"
Kaelen's voice was solemn. "Not a secret. A hope. They believed you would find your path when the time came. And now, the time has come."
Jayden stared at the dagger. Its strange markings seemed to pulse with his heartbeat, as if calling him. Yet the weight of Kaelen's words pressed heavier than the weapon itself.
"I don't want this," he whispered, shaking his head. "I don't want to be some… chosen blood. I just want my life back. The Vale. Mira. Normal."
Kaelen did not argue. He only looked at him, ancient and steady. "And yet, the fire within you will never let you return to what was. The world will not allow it."
Jayden stood abruptly, anger boiling in his veins. "Then what choice do I have? Burn everything I touch? Live as an outcast until the Vale drives me out?"
"The choice," Kaelen said, his voice firm as stone, "is whether you will let the fire master you—or whether you will master it."
The dagger lay between them, gleaming in the moonlight, waiting.
At dawn, the villagers gathered in the square to count their dead and tally the loss. A dozen homes had burned to ash. Four villagers lay wrapped in cloth, their bodies carried to the meadow for burial. The air was thick with grief, but thicker still with fear.
Mira stood with her mother, her hand trembling as she clutched Jayden's arm. She wanted to stand by him, but Jayden could feel her unease. The villagers' eyes cut sharper than knives. Wherever he walked, their gazes followed. Mothers pulled children closer, men rested hands on tools as if they were weapons.
Then Thom stepped forward.
The blacksmith's voice carried over the crowd, heavy as iron. "The Vale has bled. We have buried our own. And we must speak of what we witnessed."
Whispers rippled through the crowd. All eyes turned to Jayden.
Thom's gaze met his. The silence stretched long, too long, until finally the blacksmith spoke again. "The boy saved us. None can deny it. But the fire he bears is not of men. It is dangerous, and it will draw danger to us. You've seen it with your own eyes."
A murmur of agreement swept the crowd. Fear. Suspicion. Jayden's chest tightened.
"He cannot stay," an old woman spat. "If he remains, death will follow."
"He is cursed," another muttered. "The flames will consume us all."
Jayden felt Mira's hand clutch tighter, but her voice trembled when she shouted back. "He saved you! You'd be dead if not for him!"
Kaelen stepped forward then, his staff striking the earth. The sound silenced the murmurs. "You fear the boy because you see only flame. But I see blood older than your walls, power that runs deeper than your wells. He is not your curse. He is your shield."
The villagers shifted uneasily. But their fear was not so easily quenched.
Finally Thom raised his hand. "This is not the place for him anymore. If he has such blood, then let him seek it. Let him go to the world that birthed him."
The words hit Jayden like a hammer. Go. Leave. Cast out.
Mira turned to Thom, stricken. "You can't—"
But Thom's face was grim, his eyes weary. "It's not cruelty, child. It's truth. The boy is no longer ours to keep."
Jayden's throat ached. He wanted to shout, to argue, but no words came. Because Thom was right. He didn't belong anymore. He never had.
Kaelen's staff struck the ground again. "Then let it be done with oath, not exile. Let him leave not as an outcast, but as one who bears the Silver Oath."
The villagers stirred. The Silver Oath was old—older than the Vale itself. It was a vow sworn by those who left the Vale to face the outside world, a promise that they carried the village's spirit with them. Few had ever taken it. Fewer still had returned.
Kaelen turned to Jayden. "Kneel."
Jayden's breath trembled in his chest. His legs felt like stone, but somehow, he lowered himself to the earth. The villagers formed a circle, silent now, waiting.
Kaelen lifted the dagger—the same strange blade he had shown Jayden. Its runes glowed faintly in the morning light. He touched the flat of the blade to Jayden's shoulder.
"Jayden of the Vale," Kaelen intoned, his voice echoing like a chant, "by fire and by blood, by ash and by stone, do you swear to walk beyond these fields, to seek the truth of your kin, to wield your gift not for ruin, but for the protection of those who cannot protect themselves?"
Jayden swallowed hard. His voice shook, but it carried. "I swear."
The blade touched his other shoulder.
"Do you swear," Kaelen continued, "that though you walk beyond, the spirit of the Vale shall not be forgotten? That the hearth which raised you shall burn within you always?"
Jayden's chest tightened. He thought of Mira, of Thom, of every morning in the fields and nights by the hearth. He thought of home. "I swear."
Kaelen raised the blade high. The silver runes flared, bright as stars. His voice rang out:
"Then rise, Jayden of the Flame. By the Silver Oath, you are no longer bound to the Vale. You are bound to destiny."
Jayden rose slowly, his body trembling as though the earth itself shifted beneath him. The dagger glowed faintly in his hand, for Kaelen pressed it into his palm. It felt warm, alive, like a part of him.
The villagers bowed their heads. Not in reverence, not in trust—but in recognition of the oath. Fear still lingered in their eyes, but the ritual gave shape to what would have been exile.
Mira clutched his hand, her tears glinting. "Jayden… you don't have to go."
But Jayden shook his head. The choice had been made long before this moment. "If I stay, the Vale will burn again. If I go… maybe I'll find answers."
Her lips trembled. She wanted to protest, but no words came. She only threw her arms around him, holding him fiercely.
When she pulled away, Kaelen's gaze met his. "The road begins now. Aetherion awaits."
Jayden looked back at the village one last time. The charred houses. The wary faces. The life he had known. And then he turned toward the horizon, the dagger burning in his hand, the fire whispering in his blood.
The Silver Oath bound him. The path ahead was no longer a choice.
It was destiny.