The ruins whispered with heat. Charred beams leaned like broken ribs, and ash drifted down in lazy veils, muffling the world into a grey haze. Somewhere far off, the ground still trembled with the Flamebearers' passing, each step a low, searing echo.
Kael slumped against the jagged stone of a collapsed wall, every breath tearing at his chest. Blood slicked his side, hot and sticky, and each heartbeat felt like it might burst through his skin. Shadows curled instinctively from his arms, but they flickered weakly, dim against the lingering glow in the sky.
The woman crouched opposite him, her back pressed to the stone. Her breathing was steady despite the burns that marred her skin, despite the raw glow still etched into her scars. Her eyes—molten silver—watched the ruin with sharp calm, as though the firestorm outside meant nothing.
Kael broke the silence first, his voice hoarse.
"You dragged me from the square."
Her gaze didn't shift. "You'd be dead if I hadn't."
"I didn't ask you to save me."
A sharp laugh, bitter and dry. "You think you could've stood against them? You barely stand now."
Kael's hands clenched. The forge in him roared, the humiliation stoking its hunger. "I killed one before. I could kill them too."
Her eyes snapped to him, fierce. "What you killed was a shadow. A pawn. These were not pawns." She leaned forward, her voice low, every word heavy with flame. "They are Flamebearers. When they walk, cities burn. When they speak, armies scatter. And when they choose a target…" Her eyes narrowed. "…nothing survives."
The words sank into Kael like molten iron. For a heartbeat, he wanted to shout, to defy her. But the memory of the chains snapping stone, the spear splitting rooftops, the ashstorm swallowing the sky—it silenced him.
Still, his pride clawed to the surface.
"Then why did they let us live?"
"They didn't," she said simply. "I stole you from them."
Kael stared at her, rage boiling. "Why? Why risk yourself for me?"
She didn't answer immediately. Her eyes returned to the ruin's broken skyline, her expression unreadable. Finally, she murmured:
"Because you carry something they want."
The forge inside him flared at her words, as though it understood. Kael's breath quickened.
"You know about it."
A faint smile curved her lips, humorless. "The forge screams loud enough, even in silence. You burn with a hunger that isn't yours. Do you even understand what you carry?"
Kael forced himself upright despite the pain, shadows writhing at his sides. "I don't need to understand. I'll master it. I'll turn it on them, on you, on anyone who stands in my way."
The woman rose as well, slow and deliberate. Her height cast her shadow over him, but her voice stayed calm, too calm.
"Spoken like a child drunk on fire. Fire doesn't bend—it consumes."
Their eyes locked, silence stretching between them, thick with heat and fury. Kael's chest heaved, the forge gnawing at him, demanding release, demanding blood. But her presence pressed on him like iron, smothering the urge just enough.
Finally, Kael spat the question tearing at him.
"Who are you?"
The woman tilted her head, her scars glowing faintly in the ashlight. "Names are chains. You wouldn't believe mine."
"Try me."
Her lips curved, but her eyes stayed cold. "Then call me what you will. Enemy. Ally. Flame's shadow. It doesn't matter." She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper sharp as glass. "All that matters is this: the Flamebearers won't stop. And next time, I won't be there to drag you from the fire."
Before Kael could answer, a distant sound rolled through the ruins—like stone splitting, like a furnace breathing. Both of them froze, listening. The ground trembled faintly. The Flamebearers were still near.
The woman straightened, pulling her cloak tighter. "Rest while you can. The hunt isn't over."
Kael's fists trembled, his pride a raw wound, his forge a starving beast. He wanted to scream at her, to demand more answers, to tear the truth from her tongue. But his body betrayed him, dragging him down into the ash. His vision blurred, darkness seeping into the edges.
The last thing he saw was her silhouette, standing watch over the ruins, unbroken against the fire.
And the last thing he felt was the forge, whispering promises of power, if only he would feed it.