Chapter Six: The Path of Flame
Smoke choked the village streets.
Bravestone burned—not from Arien's magic, but from the enforcers' torches. That was their way: if they couldn't claim a place, they would erase it.
Kael dragged a wounded elder through the rubble, his arms aching. Behind him, Arien shielded a group of children, a fire ward swirling around her like a living barrier.
They had held the line for as long as they could. But even the fiercest resistance must break.
Kael's chest heaved as he laid the old man down in the chapel ruins. "That's everyone from the east quarter. But we've lost the gate."
Arien knelt beside him, eyes distant. "The map. It's changed again."
Kael looked at the scroll. The edges glowed like hot iron, but not from heat. New symbols had emerged—ancient runes neither of them could read, yet somehow understood.
"It's guiding us somewhere," she said.
"Where?"
"To the flame beneath the mountain."
Kael exhaled. "That sounds encouraging."
But they had little choice.
---
With the enforcers closing in, Kael gave the order: Evacuate the remaining villagers to the hidden caves. Only a few fighters stayed behind to buy time.
Arien and Kael led the chosen pathfinders—seven in total, including Teren and a silent woman named Maev, who wore a shattered flame tattoo on her neck. "She's one of us," Arien had whispered.
They left under the cover of night, using the map's glow to navigate the old forest paths. It wasn't long before they reached Ashroot Hollow, a place forbidden in most tales.
No birds sang here. No wind stirred. Just silence, and stone that felt too still.
"The mountain sleeps beneath," Maev murmured. "But it dreams in fire."
---
They camped near an old shrine, half-swallowed by moss. Arien sat by the fire, the map stretched across her knees. Kael watched her from the shadows.
"You ever wonder why it's you?" he asked.
She looked up. "What do you mean?"
"All of this. The power, the map, the prophecy you won't talk about."
Arien hesitated, then said, "Because I was born wrong. That's what they told me. Fire in the blood, not in the sky. A curse, not a gift."
Kael stepped closer. "I don't think it was wrong. I think it was chosen."
She met his eyes, and something passed between them. Not fire. Not duty. Just… understanding.
Then Maev's voice broke the silence.
"Something's coming."
---
From the trees, red eyes appeared—not human.
Creatures of smoke and bone, wrapped in ash. The old stories called them Cinderwraiths, said to haunt the ruins of the first flame war.
Kael drew his blade. "Everyone, form up!"
But it was Arien who stepped forward.
"Let me try something."
Her palms opened. Flame rose—not in anger, but in song. A slow, pulsing rhythm, like a heartbeat.
The wraiths froze. Then, impossibly, they knelt.
Kael stared. "What did you just do?"
"I spoke their language," she whispered. "The language of fire."
And the path on the map shimmered ag
ain—revealing a doorway in the rock.
The Flame Beneath the Mountain had awakened