By the time the sun reached its highest point, the Ember Vale shimmered like a mirage.
A vast expanse of cracked earth stretched for miles, streaked with veins of dull red stone that pulsed faintly — like the land itself was alive but too tired to beat.
Lyra trudged behind Kael, every step sinking into ash-dusted soil. Her cloak was torn, her throat raw, and her patience long gone.
Is this your idea of a safe place? She muttered. Because it feels like we are walking through a burnt loaf of bread.
Kael did not slow. It is safe because no one sane comes here.
Comforting.
She shaded her eyes. Ahead, the terrain sloped downward into a basin where a narrow stream glimmered faintly with light. It was not water. It looked more like liquid glass, shifting with colors she could not name.
What is that?
Residual energy, Kael said. It leaks from the old veins beneath the vale. Don't touch it.
Lyra tilted her head, curiosity winning over caution. What happens if I do?
You stop being human.
She withdrew her hand immediately. Right. No touching the glowing death river. Got it.
They reached the edge of a low ridge where a collapsed ruin sat half buried in ash. It looked ancient — stone pillars wrapped in vines of black crystal, symbols carved deep into the walls.
Kael stepped through the broken archway. This was once a sanctuary for the first Soul binders. Few remember it now.
Lyra followed, eyes wide. The air inside felt different — cooler, almost humming with quiet power.
Did you bring me here to train?
Kael nodded. You cannot run from what you are. You have to learn to contain it.
She frowned. And you are going to teach me?
He turned, eyes catching a sliver of light. If I do not, the Council will find you first.
Lyra hesitated, then dropped her bag. Fine. Teach me, my mysterious emotionless mentor.
Kael ignored the sarcasm. Close your eyes.
She did, reluctantly. The world fell quiet except for the faint hum of the air stream outside.
Feel it, Kael said softly. The spark that burns when you are angry. The warmth when you care. That is your essence — your flame.
I feel… heat, she murmured.
Good. Don't fight it. Shape it.
The air thickened around her. Gold light began to gather at her fingertips — faint, then brighter, coiling like threads of sunlight. The ground trembled slightly.
Steady, Kael said. Breathe.
I am trying—
The light flared. A rush of aether burst outward, cracking the stone beneath her feet. Lyra gasped and fell backward, the glow flickering out.
Kael caught her before she hit the ground. His hands were cold and steady.
You pushed too fast, he said quietly. You let the flame feel for you instead of feeling through it.
She looked up at him, breathless. You make it sound poetic.
It is survival.
Their eyes met — too close, too long. Lyra pulled back, flustered. You could have warned me it had explode.
I just did, he said, deadpan.
She groaned. You are impossible.
I have been called worse.
He offered her a hand to stand. She ignored it, pushing herself up. Her legs trembled slightly.
Again, Kael said.
Lyra blinked. Now? I nearly blew up the floor.
That means you are learning where your limits are. Find them again.
Something in his tone — firm, unwavering — made him obey despite the ache in her arms. She focused, inhaled, exhaled. This time, the light came more slowly. Softer. It danced above her palms like a living flame, golden and warm.
Kael circled her quietly. Better. You are letting it listen.
She smiled faintly. You sound almost proud.
I do not feel pride.
Maybe not, she said, meeting his gaze. But you sound it.
He looked away first.
A silence settled between them — not awkward, but heavy with something unspoken. The kind of silence that fills a space when words would only ruin it.
Lyra broke it first. You said you remember the world before the Council. What was it like?
Kael hesitated. Alive. Loud. Chaotic. People felt everything — joy, grief, rage — without fear of punishment.
And then?
He studied the fractured stone wall as though seeing it another time. Then the Council decided that emotions were the cause of war, of pain. They created the inhibitors, turning feeling into treason. And when people resisted… the purges began.
Lyra swallowed hard. You were there?
He did not answer directly. I was someone else then.
Someone who felt.
Kael's jaw tightened. That was a mistake I paid for.
Lyra wanted to ask more, but the look in her eyes stopped her. Whatever his past was, it was a wound still bleeding beneath the calm.
Outside, the light shifted — sunset bleeding over the valley, casting the ruins in hues of crimson and gold. Lyra walked to the archway, watching the sky burn. For a dead place, it is beautiful, she said softly.
Kael joined her, standing just close enough that their shoulders almost touched. Beauty is what survives when everything else is gone.
She glanced at him, a small smile playing at her lips.
You keep saying you don't feel, but you talk like someone who does.
Talking isn't feeling, he murmured.
No, she said. But sometimes, it's proof you still can.
Kael didn't reply. The wind moved between them, warm and strange, carrying the scent of the glowing aether stream. Somewhere deep inside her, Lyra felt that hidden flame stir again — stronger this time.
Maybe it wasn't just the magic awakening.
Maybe it was something else.