Snow clung to Elaria's lashes as she stumbled through the cavern's mouth, breath catching in ragged clouds. Her boots crunched against the icy stone floor, and every step was a jolt of agony through her ribs. Blood seeped through the rip in her sleeve where the hunter's blade had grazed her. But worse than the physical wounds was the ache inside her—the sharp, gaping absence of her sister.
Lysa's scream still echoed in her skull, jagged and final.
And behind her, in the darkness of the gorge, something ancient had awakened.
A flame that should not exist.
He stood at the heart of the cavern, where the rock glowed faintly from the heat radiating off his body. His back was turned to her, broad and bare, muscles shifting beneath skin that shimmered with scales like shadowed obsidian. He was more creature than man, and yet...
He turned.
His eyes were fire.
"You survived," he said, voice rough, low, and deep enough to reverberate through her bones.
Elaria stiffened. Her hand dropped to the hilt of her dagger.
"Barely," she replied. "Who are you? What—what are you?"
He stepped closer. His bare feet made no sound. She noticed the horns now, curling from his temples like carved onyx, the long black hair tumbling over his shoulders, and the unmistakable scent of scorched earth surrounding him.
"I am Kaelvar," he said. "And you, fireborn, are no longer what you were."
Elaria shook her head. "You're mad. I'm not fireborn. I'm just a girl. A village girl."
"You were. But you touched my flame, and it touched you back. Now, you burn."
His gaze dropped to her chest, where beneath the torn fabric, her skin glowed faintly gold—lines of light pulsing like veins.
Elaria backed away. "No. No, that's not possible. That's magic. That's forbidden."
Kael's expression twisted. "Magic isn't forbidden. It's feared. The realm you know is ruled by cowards who smother power and worship silence. You, girl, are meant to roar."
He extended a hand.
She didn't take it.
"Where's Lysa?" she asked, breath catching.
His eyes softened. "Gone."
The word shattered her. It was confirmation, a blow worse than any blade. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed to the stone. The cold bit her skin, but she barely noticed.
Kael moved closer. She felt his heat before his shadow touched her. He knelt beside her. Gently.
"You live because she gave everything. But she didn't die for a whisper. She died for something louder. A rebirth."
Elaria lifted her tear-streaked face. "I don't want rebirth. I want her back."
"That's not how fire works."
He placed a clawed hand over hers.
"But fire does not forget. And neither do dragons."
She blinked. "You're—"
He nodded slowly. "The last. Until now."
Elaria stared at their joined hands. Her skin shimmered where he touched her, gold light winding up her arm, threading into her bloodstream like molten veins.
Her heart thudded hard. "What's happening to me?"
Kael stood, guiding her up with him. "You're waking."
The cavern pulsed.
"There are others who will sense it soon," he warned. "The Ember Guard. The Forsworn. Even the Hollow Priests. They will come for you. They will try to snuff you out before your flame fully ignites."
She swallowed, her voice a whisper. "Why?"
"Because you are no longer human. You are more. And what the world fears, it kills."
Elaria looked down at her glowing hands.
Then up at him.
"Teach me."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "It will hurt."
"I'm already in pain."
He studied her a long moment, and something in his gaze shifted. Hunger. Respect. Perhaps something darker.
He stepped back, beckoning. "Then come. Burn with me."
They trained by firelight, deep within the cavern where ancient dragon murals curved across the walls like forgotten myths. The flames danced higher when she focused. Her rage gave them shape. Her grief gave them teeth.
Kael was merciless. He moved like a storm, and his magic bled heat into the stone itself.
When she faltered, he snarled. When she stood tall, he circled her like prey—dangerous, beautiful.
She felt herself changing. Not just in power, but in soul. Her skin thickened, became luminous. Her dreams filled with ash and wings.
Kael watched her closely, always. In silence. In fire.
One night, the air trembled. A scent of steel and snow drifted in.
Kael snapped upright. "They're here."
Elaria didn't ask who. She felt it too.
She followed him to the upper ledge. Outside, snow fell heavily, muffling the world.
Figures in black emerged from the woods. Blades glinting.
At their center walked a woman with white braids and blue armor.
Kael's growl vibrated through the stone. "Virelle."
Elaria stepped forward. "Who is she?"
"Death."
Virelle raised a gloved hand. "Elaria of Ashvale. You are claimed by forbidden fire. Submit, and we will end your suffering swiftly."
Elaria stepped into view. "I'm not suffering."
Virelle's smile was razor-thin. "Then you haven't burned long enough."
With a gesture, her soldiers advanced.
Kael leapt from the ledge. His form erupted into flames mid-air, twisting into something monstrous—wings, claws, scale, fury.
Elaria stood alone on the ledge.
Until she wasn't.
One of the soldiers climbed to her level. Blade raised.
She raised her hand.
A wave of fire burst from her palm, engulfing the man in searing gold.
He didn't scream long.
Another came from behind—she turned, ducked, slashed with her blade. Blood sprayed, sizzling against her skin.
Then Kael roared.
Virelle stood untouched in the center of the battlefield, watching.
Her blade lifted. It pulsed blue.
She and Kael clashed, flame and frost colliding in explosive bursts.
Elaria couldn't look away. Their power, their rage—it shook the mountain.
She moved down into the fray, fire curling around her feet. With each enemy she struck, the light in her chest grew brighter.
She was fire.
She was fury.
She was reborn.
Later, when the blood had cooled and the snow had melted in wide rings around their battleground, Kael returned to her side. His chest bled from Virelle's blade. But he still stood tall.
Virelle had escaped—retreated into shadows with the few who remained.
Elaria watched the horizon. Her breath smoked in the chill air.
"I want more," she said softly. "I want to know how far this fire can go."
Kael reached for her, not with claws, but fingers. Gentle. Strong.
"You have only just begun to burn."
She turned to face him. "Then light me."
And when he kissed her again, it wasn't soft. It was scorching. Possessive.
Her back hit the cavern wall. His body pressed into hers. Scales teased her skin. Claws hovered at her throat, then dragged down her sides, parting fabric with devastating ease.
She moaned, the sound raw.
"You're not afraid?" he asked, voice gravel and smoke.
"Terrified," she whispered. "But I want you anyway."
He growled and lifted her into his arms.
Heat surged between them, primal and ancient.
She arched against him as fire licked around their joined bodies—not consuming, but blessing. Her fingers tangled in his hair, his horns, his soul.
And when she came undone, it was with a cry that shattered stone.
In the stillness after, Kael lay beside her, half-man once more, chest rising slow.
"They'll come again," she murmured.
"Let them."
She turned to him. "You knew this would happen. When you let me live."
He didn't answer.
She smiled darkly. "Good. Let them come. I'll burn the whole world if I have to."
And beneath the mountain, the fire inside her whispered promises that felt like prophecy.