Ashram's POV
Freedom tastes like rage.
For three hundred years, I've been trapped in that gemstone. Three hundred years of torture. Of being drained. Of feeling my magic slowly ripped away piece by piece while I screamed in the dark.
And now I'm free.
I look at my hands. Solid hands. Real hands. Not just consciousness trapped in crystal, but an actual body again. Power floods through me, wild and unstable after centuries of containment.
Then I look at her.
The girl who freed me is dying. I can see it. Smell it. Her life force is guttering like a candle in the wind. Thirst, exhaustion, infected burns on her palms. She has hours left, maybe less.
She came here to die.
How perfectly human. How perfectly stupid.
"You have no idea what you've done, do you?" I ask her.
She's pressed against the wall, staring at me with wide eyes. Afraid but trying not to show it. Brave little thing.
"I freed you," she whispers.
"You bound yourself to me." I kneel down so we're eye level. "Your blood on the binding stone created an ancient contract. The Ember Bearer ritual. My magic is now anchored to your life force."
She doesn't understand. Of course she doesn't. Humans forgot this magic centuries ago when they started hunting my kind.
"What does that mean?" Her voice shakes.
"It means," I say slowly, "if you die, I return to that prison. And if I lose control of my power—" I let flames dance across my fingers. "—you burn with me."
Horror floods her face. Good. She should be afraid.
My magic surges, unstable. I feel it trying to explode outward. Three hundred years of compressed power wants to be free, wants to destroy everything the way they destroyed me.
The girl gasps and clutches her chest. "What's happening?"
"The bond is forming." I watch as the mark appears on her skin. A flame sigil burning into her flesh, spreading from her heart across her ribs. Beautiful and terrible. "Every Ember Bearer carries this brand. It means your life is no longer your own."
She screams as the mark burns deeper. I feel it too—the same brand appearing over my heart. Our lives connecting, intertwining, becoming one shared existence.
When it's done, she slumps against the wall, panting. The mark glows red on her skin.
"I didn't ask for this," she breathes.
"No one ever does." I stand. The temple shakes around us. My power is still unstable, still trying to break free. "But here we are. Bound together. Your death is my death. My rage is your rage."
I can feel her now. Not just see her, but feel her. Her pain. Her exhaustion. Her broken heart still bleeding from betrayal. Someone hurt her badly. Multiple someones.
And beneath all that pain—anger. Beautiful, burning anger that refuses to die.
"You're angry," I say. Interested despite myself.
"Of course I'm angry!" She tries to stand but her legs won't hold her. "I was betrayed by everyone I loved! Thrown in prison for crimes I didn't commit! Sentenced to die while they celebrated! And now I'm bound to a—a—"
"Fire spirit," I finish. "The Fire Spirit of Destruction, to be specific. Ashram the Eternal Flame. The monster from your bedtime stories."
She stares at me. "You're Ashram? The one who almost burned the kingdom to ash?"
"Almost?" I laugh, but it's not a happy sound. "I succeeded. Three hundred years ago, I reduced half this kingdom to glass. Want to know why?"
She doesn't answer, but I tell her anyway.
"They murdered my bonded Spirit-Keeper. A woman who carried the same bloodlines as you." I step closer. Her scent hits me—underneath the dirt and blood, there's something familiar. Ancient magic. Sealed magic. "They hunted spirit-blessed humans like her. Like you. Killed them to keep their stolen power safe."
"I'm not spirit-blessed," she whispers. "I'm nobody. I don't even have magic."
"You're wrong." I can see it now. The seal carved into her spine, invisible to human eyes but clear as day to me. "You've been sealed. Hidden. Someone tried very hard to make sure people like me would never find you."
Before she can respond, the temple shudders violently. Cracks race across the ceiling. My power surges again, stronger this time. I'm losing control.
The girl—Zara—gasps and doubles over. "I can feel you," she chokes out. "Your magic. It's burning me from the inside."
"Then learn to contain it." I fight to keep my form solid. "Or we both die right here."
"I don't know how!"
"Figure it out!" My voice comes out as a roar. Flames explode from my body, spreading across the walls. The ancient stones start melting. "Because in about thirty seconds, I'm going to detonate and take half the desert with me!"
She's crying now. From pain or fear or both. Her hands press against her chest where the brand burns.
"I can't," she sobs. "I don't know what to do. I'm not strong enough. I'm not—"
"STOP!" The word comes out with so much force that the flames around us pause. "Stop saying you're not enough! Stop letting their lies control you!"
Our eyes meet. Gold and brown. Fire and earth.
"You freed me," I tell her. "A girl with no magic, no training, no reason to survive—you walked through defenses that have killed hundreds. You shattered a prison that held me for three centuries. You are NOT nothing!"
Something shifts in her expression. The fear doesn't disappear, but something else appears beside it.
Determination.
She closes her eyes. Takes a shaking breath. I feel her reaching for the bond between us, touching my wild magic with her life force.
It should kill her. She has no training, no idea what she's doing.
But somehow—impossibly—she holds on.
The flames pulling at my control slow. Just a little. Just enough.
"That's it," I breathe. "Hold me. Anchor me."
The temple stops shaking. My power stabilizes. Not completely—I'm still dangerous, still unstable—but contained enough that we're not going to explode. Yet.
Zara opens her eyes. They're glowing. Actually glowing with inner fire.
"What's happening to me?" she whispers.
Before I can answer, the ceiling collapses.
I grab her and surge upward in a blast of fire, tearing through stone and earth. We explode out of the temple into the night sky. The entire structure crumbles behind us, three hundred years of magic finally releasing.
I land on a sand dune a safe distance away and set her down. She's unconscious, her body pushed beyond its limits.
But she's alive. And the brand over her heart pulses in rhythm with mine.
"You impossible, stubborn human," I murmur, studying her face.
She reminds me so much of Zariah. The same bloodline. The same spirit. But fiercer. Angrier. More broken.
More dangerous.
The desert wind carries voices. Shouts. Horses.
Guards. Following her trail. Coming to finish what they started.
I look down at the girl in my arms—this accidental Ember Bearer who's now the only thing keeping me from destroying everything.
And I smile.
"They want to kill you?" I say softly. "Let them try."