Chapter Three – Embers Never Lie
712 Words
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Chapter Three – Embers Never Lie
The candle had gone out, but the warmth remained.
Nyra stood in the silence of her cottage, her breath still tasting like ash. She hadn’t used her voice in seven years—and yet when she finally did, it came like a blade. Clean. Sharp. Unapologetic.
The boy was still there. Watching.
He leaned against the doorframe like he owned the air around him. But Nyra could tell—beneath all that calm, he was calculating. Watching her just as closely.
> “My name is Kael,” he said finally. “Ashblood, like you.”
She didn’t respond. Her eyes dropped to the spiral mark on her wrist. It glowed faintly, pulsing in rhythm with her heartbeat.
> “You don’t remember what you are yet,” Kael continued. “But the power in your blood does.”
Nyra sat down again. Calm. Composed. Like her bones weren’t humming with fire and questions.
She picked up her charcoal, but didn’t draw. Her fingers only pressed, slowly grinding it into dust.
> “Why now?” she asked. Her voice was rough, like dry leaves scraping across stone.
> “Because they’ve found another,” Kael said, stepping closer. “A child. Eight years old. Born under a red moon like you. They're already hunting her.”
Nyra’s breath caught.
A child? Another Ashblood?
> “They’ll burn her,” he said simply. “Like they burned your family.”
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The memories hit like a blade to the ribs. Her mother’s scream. Her father’s hands pushing her toward the cellar. The smell of smoke in her hair. The silence afterward. Not peace—just the absence of sound. Like the world had forgotten how to speak.
She thought she was the only one.
She thought the fire made her the last.
But now… a child?
Nyra stood. Her movements slow, deliberate. Kael watched her with quiet approval, like he’d been waiting for this moment.
> “Where is she?” Nyra asked.
Kael smiled. But it wasn’t joy. It was war.
> “Two villages south. A place called Greymoor. She doesn’t know what she is yet. But they do.”
Nyra moved to her shelf and grabbed the journal. She tucked it under her arm, then reached for a hidden box beneath the floorboard.
Inside: a small dagger, wrapped in cloth, untouched for years. She unwrapped it, stared at the faint red stone in its hilt, then slid it into the sheath at her waist.
Kael’s brow lifted. “You were raised by fire, but you still carry steel.”
> “I carry both,” she said. “Fire is memory. Steel is consequence.”
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They left before dawn.
Nyra didn’t leave a note. No one would care. No one would ask. In Ashenmoor, she was just the shadow who passed through without sound.
They traveled on foot. Through fog and frost. Through towns that didn’t look twice at cloaked strangers. Kael walked ahead, silent. Nyra walked behind, listening to the wind.
Every time her foot touched the ground, it whispered something older than words.
The Ashblood are rising.
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At sunset, they stopped beneath a cracked statue of a forgotten saint. The sky was bleeding pink and orange. Kael lit a small fire with a flick of his fingers. Nyra watched it dance, alive and flickering.
> “Do you know why they fear us?” he asked suddenly.
Nyra shook her head.
> “Because we’re not born from darkness. We’re born from truth. Fire burns lies. And the world… it’s built on lies.”
She didn’t answer.
> “You’ll feel it soon,” Kael added. “The pull. The rage. The instinct to burn everything that hurt you.”
> “I already feel it,” she whispered.
Kael nodded. “Good. You’ll need it. Because saving that child will cost you more than you think.”
Nyra stared into the flame.
> “I have nothing left to lose.”
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But that was the first lie she'd told herself in years.
Because deep down…
She wanted revenge.
She wanted answers.
She wanted more.
And fire never stays small forever.
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🔥 End of Chapter Three
- Writer
