Ashen's POV
The war horns are getting closer.
"How many?" I ask, my mind already calculating escape routes.
Rev closes her eyes, letting her shadow magic spread across the ground like searching fingers. "Forty soldiers. Maybe fifty. All Syndicate." Her violet eyes snap open. "They have memory cages."
Memory cages. Devices that trap consciousness, leaving the body alive but the mind imprisoned forever. They're bringing them for Ember.
I look at the girl standing beside me—this seventeen-year-old Pyromancer who's supposed to be our salvation. She's shaking, her eyes wide with fear, one hand still clutching that glowing crystal.
"Can you fight?" I ask her.
"I don't know." Her voice cracks. "I've never—I don't know how to control it—"
"That's not what I asked." I step closer, catching her chin gently so she has to look at me. "Can. You. Fight?"
For a moment, I see past the fear to something else. Something burning underneath.
Rage. Pure and hot and desperate.
"Yes," she whispers.
"Good. Because if we don't fight, we die. And if we die, your sister dies too."
That does it. Her eyes harden. "Tell me what to do."
Rev materializes between us, grinning like a demon. "I like her already." She pulls two daggers from her belt. "Ashen handles the memories, I handle the shadows, you handle the fire. Simple."
"Nothing about this is simple," I mutter.
The first wave of soldiers bursts through the trees.
Rev moves like smoke, her shadows wrapping around three soldiers at once. They scream as darkness pours into their mouths, choking them silent.
I reach out with my mind, touching the memories of the soldier charging at me. I find his fear—everyone has fear—and I make it grow. Make it consume him. He drops his sword and runs, screaming about monsters that aren't there.
But there are too many. For every soldier we stop, two more appear.
"Ember!" I shout. "Now would be a good time!"
She stands frozen, staring at her hands. "I can't—I don't—"
A soldier breaks through Rev's shadow barrier, raising his sword at Ember's neck.
Something inside her snaps.
Fire explodes from her body—not orange flames but white-hot rage made visible. The soldier screams, dropping his weapon as his uniform catches fire. But the flames don't spread to the trees. Don't spread to the ground.
They only burn what Ember wants them to burn.
She's controlling it. Barely, but she's doing it.
"Holy hell," Rev breathes. "She's a natural."
More soldiers charge. Ember throws her hands forward, and fire pours from her palms like water from a broken dam. It hits three soldiers at once, and they collapse, screaming.
But something's wrong. Ember's eyes are glowing too bright. Her whole body is starting to glow.
"She's losing control!" I sprint toward her. "Ember, pull it back! You'll kill yourself!"
"I can't stop it!" She looks at me, terrified. "It won't stop!"
The fire around her intensifies. I can feel the heat from ten feet away. She's going to burn herself out—literally—if she doesn't stop.
I do the only thing I can think of.
I reach into her mind.
Her memories hit me like a physical blow. Fire and screaming and bodies burning. Her parents dying. Her sister taken. Pain and loss and rage so deep it has no bottom.
And underneath it all—power. Ancient, sleeping power that's been waiting in her bloodline for generations. It's waking up now, responding to her emotions, and it's going to kill her if she can't control it.
"Ember," I say, speaking directly into her mind. "Listen to me. The fire isn't your enemy. It's part of you. Stop fighting it. Stop trying to control it. Just be with it."
"I don't understand!"
"Yes, you do. Your mother's crystal taught you. Remember what she said. Fire doesn't destroy—it transforms."
I can feel her reaching for that memory. Can feel her finding it.
The white-hot flames suddenly shift—from deadly to protective. They form a wall around us, keeping the soldiers back but not killing them.
Ember gasps, and the glow fades from her eyes. She sways, and I catch her before she falls.
"I did it," she whispers. "I actually did it."
"You did." I can't keep the pride out of my voice. "Now do it again. We're not done yet."
But the soldiers are retreating. All of them, moving backward through the trees like they're being pulled by invisible strings.
"Why are they leaving?" Rev asks, suspicious.
Then I hear it. A slow, mocking clap.
A figure emerges from the trees—a man in elegant black robes, his face hidden behind a silver mask shaped like a skull.
Lord Dredge.
"Magnificent," he says, his voice cold and amused. "The little Pyromancer has teeth. I wondered if you would."
Ember stiffens in my arms. "You."
"Me." He tilts his head. "The one who killed your parents. The one who took your sister. The one who stole your memories." He pauses. "And the one who's about to take you back."
"Over my dead body," Rev snarls, shadows already forming around her hands.
"That can be arranged." Dredge snaps his fingers.
The soldiers who retreated suddenly return—but they're not alone. They're dragging someone.
A small girl with tangled dark hair and a gap-toothed smile that's visible even through her terror.
Spark.
"NO!" Ember screams.
"Yes," Dredge says pleasantly. "I brought your sister as insurance. You see, Ember, you have a choice. Come with me peacefully, let us extract what we need from your mind, and your sister lives. She'll be given to a nice family, have a normal life, forget all about you."
"Liar," I say.
"Perhaps." He shrugs. "Or you can fight, and I'll kill her right now. Right here. While you watch. Again."
Ember is shaking so hard I can barely hold her. "Spark," she whispers.
The little girl's eyes go wide. "Ember? EMBER!"
"I'm here, sweetheart. I'm here."
"Touching," Dredge says. "Now. Your choice, little Pyromancer. Your life for hers. What will it be?"
I can feel Ember's mind working, calculating. She's going to surrender. She's going to sacrifice herself to save her sister.
I can't let that happen.
"Rev," I say quietly. "Shadow-step. Now."
"On it."
Rev vanishes into shadows.
Dredge laughs. "You think I didn't plan for that? The moment your thief touches the girl, my soldiers will snap her neck."
He's right. I can see the soldiers' hands on Spark's shoulders, ready to twist.
We're trapped. Completely and utterly trapped.
Unless—
"Ember," I whisper. "Do you trust me?"
"I don't even know you."
"I know. But do you trust me?"
She looks at me with those burning eyes, and I see her making a decision that could kill us both.
"Yes," she says.
"Then when I say jump, you jump. No questions. No hesitation. Can you do that?"
"What are you planning?"
"Something incredibly stupid." I turn to face Dredge. "We accept your terms. Ember will surrender."
"No!" Rev's voice comes from the shadows. "Ashen, what are you—"
"Stand down, Rev."
Ember steps forward, her hands raised. "Let my sister go first."
"I don't think so," Dredge says. "You come to me, then I release her."
Ember walks forward. One step. Two steps. Three.
I reach into every soldier's mind at once. Find their memories of Dredge's orders. And burn them away.
All of them, simultaneously.
The soldiers' hands drop from Spark's shoulders. They stand there, confused, not remembering why they're in these woods or who they're supposed to be guarding.
"NOW!" I shout. "JUMP!"
Ember throws herself backward as I slam my hands onto the ground, releasing a memory shockwave—every painful memory I've ever absorbed, every death, every loss, every scream—all at once.
It hits the soldiers like a physical wall. They collapse, unconscious.
Rev appears beside Spark, wrapping the girl in shadows, pulling her to safety.
But Dredge is still standing. He's shielded himself somehow.
And he's laughing.
"Clever," he says. "Very clever. But you've made a critical mistake, Ashen Vale."
He pulls something from his robes—a crystal vial filled with glowing orange liquid.
Ember's stolen memories.
"You thought I'd come unprepared? I have everything I need from her right here. Which means—" he throws the vial to the ground, and it shatters, "—I don't need her alive anymore."
The memories explode outward, forming into shapes. People. Ember's parents. Her sister as she was before. All of them made of fire and memory.
And all of them turning to look at Ember with empty, burning eyes.
"No," Ember whispers. "No, please—"
"Kill her," Dredge commands the memory-constructs. "Kill her with her own family's faces."
The constructs move forward, and I realize we've already lost.
We just didn't know it yet.