The forest had grown darker the deeper they went. Trees loomed like sentinels, their roots twisting through the fog like restless spirits. The moonlight barely reached the ground, breaking only in thin, silver strands that danced across the wet leaves. Sylvia moved quietly, her senses sharpened, her bow slung across her back but her hand never far from it.
It had been three days since she fled the Kingdom of Lost Spells. Three days since the Grims overran the palace, since she had watched the sky burn red with her people's screams echoing through the valley. She had barely slept—haunted by the faces she couldn't save, the family she might never see again.
Kael walked a few paces ahead, quiet and sure-footed, his cloak whispering across the ground. He had appeared out of nowhere two nights ago, saving her from a Grim scout patrol. But that didn't mean she trusted him.
Not yet.
"Where are we going?" Sylvia finally asked, her voice low but edged with suspicion.
Kael glanced over his shoulder. "To the Glade of Eldara. It's not far."
"That doesn't answer my question."
His jaw tightened. "It's where the Flame rests. If you truly mean to reclaim your kingdom, you'll need its power. But it's not something that can simply be taken."
Sylvia frowned. "And you just happen to know where this 'Flame' is? Why should I trust you?"
Kael stopped and turned, his eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. "Because I'm not on their side either."
Her bow was in her hand in one motion—swift, precise, deadly. The string creaked as she drew it back, the arrow tip gleaming faintly. "You're going to have to do better than that."
Kael didn't move. Slowly, he raised both hands, palms open. "Because I was banished too. I was one of them once—before I saw what they were becoming."
Sylvia's fingers trembled against the bowstring. The forest wind howled through the trees, scattering dead leaves between them. For a heartbeat, all she could hear was the pounding in her chest.
Then, after a long silence, she lowered the bow—slightly. "If you try anything…"
"I won't." His voice was quiet. "I'm not your enemy."
They continued in silence until the trees began to thin. The mist grew denser, glowing faintly with an otherworldly light. The air hummed, electric, alive.
When they stepped into the clearing, Sylvia stopped dead.
At its center stood a stone pedestal, ancient and cracked, veins of faint gold running through it. Hovering just above it was a small, perfect sphere of fire—burning without smoke, its flames shifting between crimson, gold, and white. It didn't just shine—it pulsed, like a heartbeat.
Sylvia felt it immediately. A pull deep in her chest. The same power she had felt as a child when her mother told her stories of the Flame of Eldara—the gift of the ancients, the fire of rebirth, said to choose only one bearer every thousand years.
Kael's voice broke through the silence, low and wary. "Sylvia… the Flame is alive. It tests whoever touches it. Most who try… die before their fingers even brush the light."
She didn't answer. The orb's glow danced across her face, reflecting in her wide eyes. Her heart pounded in rhythm with it. For a moment, she could swear it was breathing—like it was waiting.
Kael stepped closer. "Don't do this. It's not meant to be forced—"
But she wasn't listening. The forest had gone still. Even the wind seemed to pause. The orb flared, as if sensing her defiance.
Her breath came in shallow gasps. The air around her felt thick, heavy, charged with heat. Mist swirled upward, golden light rippling through it like fire underwater. The flame called to her—not with words, but with feeling. With recognition.
Her fingers trembled as she lifted her hand.
Kael's shout came from far away. "Sylvia, wait—!"
She hesitated for one heartbeat. Then she reached out.
The world exploded.
A blinding light swallowed the clearing. Heat slammed into her like a storm, searing through her veins, into her bones. She screamed, clutching her chest as flames coiled around her like serpents. Her hair whipped in the wind, her cloak catching fire—but it didn't burn. The fire wrapped her instead, claimed her, became her.
Kael staggered back, shielding his eyes. "Sylvia!"
Her eyes snapped open—glowing molten orange. Flames poured from her palms, her veins pulsing like liquid light beneath her skin. The fire lifted her off the ground, spinning around her in wild arcs that melted frost and turned mist to steam.
She gasped for air, voice trembling. "I… I can't—"
"Let it go!" Kael shouted. "It'll destroy you!"
But she couldn't. The Flame wasn't hurting her. It was fusing with her. She felt its warmth inside her chest, its rhythm merging with her heartbeat.
The orb flared one final time before dissolving into her—fusing completely.
The flames around her brightened, then slowly sank into her skin, leaving faint glowing lines down her arms like molten tattoos. Her hair shimmered, streaked with embers. The clearing fell silent except for her ragged breaths.
Kael approached cautiously, awe and fear warring in his voice. "You… you survived it."
Sylvia sank to her knees, her hands still trembling. Tiny flames flickered across her fingertips, answering her heartbeat. Her voice was a whisper, fragile and disbelieving.
"I… I did it…" She looked down at her hands, tears glinting in the firelight. "I can feel it inside me… the flame… it's alive…"
Kael stared at her, eyes wide. "You're not just alive, Sylvia. You're changed. You're—"
"A fire elf," she breathed, the words barely forming on her lips. Her eyes glowed again, soft and ember-bright. "The strongest there is…"
The fire rippled around her, pulsing in sync with her breath. The mist parted. The forest itself seemed to bow.
Sylvia lifted her gaze to the horizon, where the faint glow of the Grim armies still smoldered beyond the distant hills. Her fear was still there—real, human—but beneath it burned something else. Something fierce.
Hope.
And deep in the shadows, unseen by either of them, a pair of eyes watched from the treeline—cold, calculating, and smiling.
The forest had chosen its fire.