Kael awoke before dawn, his body sore from travel and pain, but his mind sharper than ever. He had dreamt of fire—soft, golden flames licking at his chest where Arien's hands had touched him. Her healing was unlike any he'd known. Too warm. Too... alive.
That wasn't herbal magic.
That was elemental.
He sat up slowly in the small guest room of the village elder, watching shadows dance along the wooden walls. A map was etched in his memory—orders from his father, King Vaelen:
> "Find the Ember. Root out the fire-blooded. Burn the rebellion before it spreads."
But Kael hadn't expected her.
Meanwhile, Arien stood at the edge of the fields, watching mist roll through the grass. She could feel Kael's presence like heat at her back—both warning and warmth. Part of her wanted to trust him. Another part screamed to run.
She turned as footsteps approached.
"Couldn't sleep?" Kael asked, voice low.
"Didn't want to," she replied, eyes still distant. "Dreams burn too bright."
He smiled. "You always speak in riddles?"
"Only when I don't trust someone."
A tense silence fell between them.
Kael stepped closer, just enough to test her reaction. "I'm not here to hurt you, Arien."
"No," she whispered. "But you will."
His brow furrowed. "Why say that?"
Arien didn't answer. Instead, she raised a hand—and for a heartbeat, let him see it. A flicker of flame danced at her fingertips before vanishing.
Kael stepped back, jaw tight.
So it was true. She was the Ember.
The girl he was sent to betray…
was the one already burning in his heart.