The Burning Sigil 2
430 Words
Night settled over Eldranth like a blanket too heavy to lift.
The flames had died down, leaving behind scorched ruins and ash-choked air. The villagers who remained moved in silence, tending to the wounded, dragging water from the wells, and collecting what meager supplies had survived the attack.
Liora sat beside the old well, her hands resting in her lap. The glow of her sigil had faded to a faint ember, no longer searing her skin but lingering like an echo. She felt hollow—drained, yes, but also sharpened, as if something inside her had crystallized in fire.
Kael approached from the shadows, carrying a satchel slung across his back. His armor was scratched and blackened in places, but he moved with the same watchful steadiness he always did.
He didn’t speak at first. Instead, he knelt beside her and placed a small leather-wrapped bundle on the stone beside her.
She looked at it. “What is it?”
“Food,” he said. “Sort of. Dalen says it’s ‘battlebread.’ I think he made it up just to make us suffer.”
Liora cracked a smile despite herself. “I’ll take it.”
She unwrapped the cloth and bit into the dense, bitter bread, chewing slowly. They sat in silence for a while, the distant crackle of smoldering wood the only sound.
Finally, Kael said, “Back in the square… the way you fought—it was different.”
Liora nodded. “I stopped trying to control the flame by force. I listened instead. I… asked it to help.”
He looked at her, thoughtful. “And it did.”
“More than that,” she said. “It remembered. I saw things, Kael. Not visions like before—memories. A battlefield. A tower wrapped in chains. My mother standing against something… something ancient.”
He stiffened. “Ashkarin.”
“Yes,” she said. “I think he’s coming back. I think all of this—the Veilborn, the Order of Ash—it’s just preparation for his return.”
Kael exhaled slowly. “Then we’re far behind.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “We’re just in time. The sigil—it’s part of something bigger. It’s not just a mark. It’s a key.”
Kael tilted his head. “To what?”
Before she could answer, Dalen appeared, his robes patched with soot and fresh runes glowing along the cuffs. He looked more tired than Liora had ever seen him, but his eyes still held fire.
“I found something,”
- Writer
