The ruins of Dravenfall faded into the mist behind them, but Kael felt the pulse in his chest grow stronger with each step. It was no longer a faint tug; it was a drumbeat, insistent and unrelenting, pulling him southward. Rylan trudged beside him, his boots crunching on the narrow trail through tangled undergrowth. The silence between them carried weight—expectation, unease, and something neither dared to name.
At dawn, the rebel leader had given Kael his first command: investigate rumors of fire in the forests near Silverwood. Kael had said nothing of the heat that haunted his dreams, of the way his skin prickled when the stars aligned. He had merely inclined his head, fingers tightening on his cane, and set out.
Now, beneath the canopy of the western woods, he paused. "It's close," he murmured.
Rylan scanned the forest with soldier's caution. "What is?"
Kael tilted his head. To him, the world was alive in threads of sound, vibration, and unseen rhythm. A heartbeat, far away but strong. A song he could not yet hear the words of. "Something… someone." He exhaled slowly. "We are not walking into chance, Rylan. We are walking into design."
Rylan gave a short, wary laugh. "Design sounds like a dangerous thing."
Kael's lips curved faintly. "It always is."
---
Silverwood
Liora had not left her house since the fire. Whispers clung to her name like smoke: witch, cursed, dangerous. Villagers who had once shared bread with her now crossed the street. Children peeked at her door as if expecting flames to burst from the cracks.
Kaela sat at the table, chin in her hands, frowning at the silence. "They're afraid because they don't understand," she said firmly, as though speaking it aloud would make it true. "They'll come around."
Liora stirred the pot of stew mechanically. "Or they'll report me to Calderis' men, and we'll all burn for it."
Kaela's eyes flashed. "Don't say that."
But Liora could see it in her sister's trembling hands: the same fear that haunted the village. No matter how she tried to master her gift, fire clung to her veins, wild and alive. She could summon it, shape it, bend it—but she had not yet tested its limits.
As if summoned by thought, the door creaked open. Erynis entered, her cloak trailing frost from the autumn air. She studied Liora with sharp eyes, seeing not the stew, not the trembling spoon, but the restless glow beneath her skin.
"You cannot stay here," she said simply.
Liora stiffened. "This is my home."
"Not anymore. Calderis will hear of you soon. His hunters will come. They are not men you can dazzle with sparks, child. They are shadows. Blades. Whispers of death. When they come, you must choose: flee or fall."
Liora set the spoon down with a sharp clatter. "Then I'll fight."
Erynis's expression softened for the briefest moment, almost like sorrow. Then it hardened again. "You sound like your mother before the end." She turned, cloak whispering as she vanished once more into the night.
The words lingered long after she had gone.
---
The Duskborn
Far away, in the halls of obsidian, King Calderis listened. A spy knelt before him, trembling as he delivered his report:
"My king, the fire… it came from Silverwood. Witnesses claim a girl conjured it before the village."
The king's fingers drummed the arm of his throne. A slow smile spread across his face, cold and cruel. "And the veiled prince? What of him?"
"Gone, sire. The guards say he vanished from Calderis under cover of night. His trail is… uncertain."
The king leaned forward, eyes gleaming like embers. "Then fate is unkind to me, or kind indeed. Two threats rising at once, drawn together like sparks to tinder. Let us see how brightly they burn before I snuff them out."
He raised his hand. Shadows stirred. From the darkness stepped three cloaked figures—the Duskborn. Their eyes glimmered like faint coals, their blades curved and cruel. They bowed in silence, awaiting their command.
"Go to Silverwood," the king ordered. "Bring me the girl alive. If the boy interferes…" His smile deepened. "…cut out the light from his eyes."
The Duskborn bowed once more, then melted back into the shadows, vanishing as though swallowed by night.
---
The First Sparks
Evening fell on Silverwood. Liora sat by the hearth, restless, her palms itching with heat she could not soothe. Outside, the village settled uneasily, lanterns swaying, whispers echoing of threats they could not name.
Then the silence broke.
A scream pierced the air, sharp and desperate. Liora shot to her feet, heart pounding. Through the window, she saw figures cloaked in black, moving like liquid shadow through the square. One seized a merchant by the throat, tossing him aside like a doll. Another cut through lanterns, plunging the square into darkness.
The Duskborn had come.
Kaela clutched her sister's arm. "Don't—"
But Liora was already moving, fire rising instinctively to her palms. She burst into the square, heat spilling in a wave around her. The assassins turned as one, heads snapping toward her, eyes gleaming like dying embers.
"There," one hissed.
The first lunged. Liora raised her hand, a barrier of flame surging between them. The assassin twisted unnaturally, slipping through the fire as though it were mist. His blade caught her sleeve, nicking her arm. She gasped, staggering back.
The second approached, silent as shadow. Kaela screamed her name, but before the blade could fall—
A cane struck the ground.
The sound reverberated like thunder.
---
The Crossing
Kael stepped into the square, veil drawn across his face, Rylan at his side with sword bared. The pulse in his chest roared now, synchronizing with the fire in Liora's veins. He could feel her before he heard her breathing—her power sang in the air, wild but radiant, a flame calling to his unseen sight.
The assassins froze, momentarily caught between two unexpected foes.
Kael turned his head toward Liora, though his veiled eyes did not see her in the way others did. Yet he felt her—like a star breaking through fog.
"You are the one," he murmured.
Liora's breath caught. For a heartbeat, she forgot the blades, the danger, even the terror. The stranger's voice resonated with the same inevitability she had been sensing for weeks.
"Who are you?" she whispered.
"Someone bound to this fate as you are." He lifted his cane. "But first—survive."
The Duskborn struck.
Blades hissed through air, faster than mortal eyes could follow. Kael moved with uncanny precision, cane deflecting, dagger flashing, as if he could hear the intent of each strike before it fell. Rylan fought fiercely at his side, steel ringing.
Liora summoned fire, but this time she did not let it rage wild. She thought of the barrier she had shaped at the market, of the flames she had bent to her will. With a fierce cry, she unleashed a controlled burst, pushing back two assassins in a wall of heat.
For the first time in her life, she fought not in fear of her fire, but in command of it.
---
The Aftermath
The battle tore through the square. Villagers scattered, crying out as homes smoldered and shadows clashed with flame. One assassin fell beneath Rylan's blade, another fled into the forest. The last lingered longest, crossing steel with Kael until at last the prince drove his dagger home with a precision born not of sight, but of perfect perception.
When silence returned, the square was scarred—burned lanterns, scorched stone, blood staining the cobbles.
Liora stood trembling, fire dimming in her palms. Her eyes met Kael's veiled face. For a long moment, neither spoke. The pull between them was undeniable, a force older than either could name.
Rylan broke the silence. "We can't stay. The king will send more. Stronger."
Kael turned his head toward Liora. "Come with us."
She hesitated, heart thundering. Behind her, Kaela stood pale but unhurt, staring at the veiled stranger and the trail of ash left in their wake. Before her, Kael stood steady, like an anchor in the storm.
"I don't even know you," she whispered.
Kael's voice was low, resolute. "You will. Fate has already decided it."
The words struck her like both promise and threat. She looked once more at her sister, then at the fire-scorched square. She knew Silverwood would never see her as it had before.
The crossroads was here. And choice could no longer be delayed.
---