EMBERS OF THE FORSAKEN

The Bloom

The river turned black before the Bloom began.

Not dark—black. Like someone had poured ink into the water. James dipped a hand over the side of the boat and pulled it back covered in something thick and slick that smelled of rotting flowers.

"Don't touch the water," Taylor said. Too late.

"The Bloom is infected," Tommy whispered. He was staring at the shoreline. "Look."

James looked.

The trees were wrong. They grew at angles that defied gravity, their bark covered in glowing fungi that pulsed like hearts. Vines hung from every branch, moving in air that had no wind. And the colors—purple, green, orange, colors that shouldn't exist in nature—bled across the forest floor like spilled paint.

"The Bloom is a wound," Taylor said. "A magical wound that never healed. The god-war tore reality here, and the fungus grew in the cracks."

"How do you know so much about it?"

"Because I almost deserted here. Three years ago. Before Voss killed my squad." Her voice was flat. "I made it to the forest's edge. Then I turned back."

"Why?"

She didn't answer.

The boat drifted closer. The current was pulling them toward a gap in the trees—a channel carved through the fungal growth, lined with stones that looked almost like teeth.

"Someone built this," James said.

"The Wild Speaker. Kate." Taylor picked up the oars. "She maintains the boundaries. Keeps the Bloom from spreading. Keeps the Inquisition from entering."

"She's on our side?"

"She's on her own side. But she hates the Inquisition more than she hates anyone else." Taylor started rowing. "That's the best we're going to get."

The channel narrowed. The trees closed in above them, blocking out the grey sky. The only light came from the glowing fungi—pulsing, breathing, watching.

Tommy pressed closer to James. "The walls are moving."

He was right. The fungal growth on the trees was shifting—slowly, like a sleeping animal turning over. Vines curled and uncurled. The glowing spots blinked in patterns that almost looked like words.

Stay out.

Turn back.

You are not welcome.

"The Bloom knows we're here," Taylor said. "It always knows."

A figure emerged from the trees.

She was young—nineteen, maybe—with dreadlocks threaded with bones and flowers. Her feet were bare. Her dress was made of woven leaves and fungi that glowed with the same pulse as the forest. Her eyes shifted color as James watched—green to gold to purple and back again.

Kate. The Wild Speaker.

She stood at the water's edge, her head tilted, her expression curious and cold.

"You brought him," she said. Her voice echoed in a way that had nothing to do with the trees. "The Ember-child."

Taylor stopped rowing. "We need sanctuary."

"The Bloom doesn't give sanctuary. It gives terms." Kate walked to the water's edge and knelt. She dipped her fingers in the black river and tasted them. "You're bleeding, Ember-child. The Bloom can smell you. It's hungry."

"I can't control it," James said.

"No one can control the Ember. That's the lie the Syndicate tells." Kate stood. "But the Bloom can contain it. For a price."

"What price?"

Kate looked at Tommy. The boy flinched under her gaze.

"The child stays," Kate said. "The Ember-child leaves something behind. A memory. A big one. And the soldier gives up her weapons."

"No," Taylor said immediately.

"Then you can all leave." Kate stepped back. "The Bloom will let you go. For now. But the Inquisition is three hours behind you. They'll catch you on the river. They'll burn you in cages. And the Ember will feast on your screams."

Taylor's hand went to her sword.

"You're not taking my weapons."

"I'm not taking them. You're leaving them at the boundary. When you leave the Bloom, you get them back." Kate's eyes shifted to solid gold. "The Bloom doesn't trust steel. Steel remembers the god-war. Steel hurt the Bloom."

James looked at Taylor. Her jaw was tight, her knuckles white on the oars.

"Do it," he said.

"James—"

"We don't have a choice. Tommy's safety is the only thing that matters."

Taylor stared at him for a long moment. Then she pulled her sword from its sheath and laid it on the shore. Her knives followed. Her crossbow. Her hidden blades—seven of them, from various places on her body that James hadn't known could hide weapons.

Kate nodded. "The child now."

Tommy looked up at James. "Jamie?"

"You'll be safe here." James knelt beside him. "I promise. I'll come back for you."

"You promised before. In the memory-den."

"I know. And I kept that promise. I came for you at the townhouse."

Tommy's eyes filled with tears. "But you're leaving again."

"Only because leaving keeps you alive." James hugged him. Tight. Longer than he should have. "Be brave. Remember everything. I'll be back before you forget my face."

Tommy laughed—a wet, broken sound. "I won't forget your face. You're ugly enough to remember."

James kissed the top of his head. Then he stood and faced Kate.

"The memory," Kate said. "The Bloom wants something valuable. Something that hurts to lose."

James closed his eyes. What did he have left? His mother's face was gone. His anger was gone. His foster mother's name was gone.

But there was one thing the Ember hadn't taken.

The sound of Tommy's first laugh.

He was five years old, newly arrived at the orphanage, scared and silent. James had made a funny face—crossed eyes, puffed cheeks—and Tommy had laughed. A real laugh. The first one since his parents died.

James reached for that memory. Held it.

"You can't," Taylor said. "That's—"

"I know what it is." James looked at Kate. "Take it. But leave me the knowledge that it existed. I don't need to hear it. I just need to know it was real."

Kate touched his chest. Her fingers were cold—colder than the Ember, colder than death.

The memory ripped out of him.

James gasped. It wasn't like the other losses—those had been quiet, sneaky. This was a blade twisting in his skull. Tommy's laugh, that bright sound, gone. He knew he'd heard it once. He knew it mattered. But he couldn't remember what it sounded like.

Tommy was crying now. "Jamie? Jamie, what happened?"

James couldn't answer. His throat was closed.

"The Bloom accepts the toll," Kate said. "Come. I'll take you to the hollow. You can rest there before the Inquisition arrives."

She turned and walked into the trees.

Taylor grabbed James's arm. "Can you walk?"

He nodded. He couldn't speak, but he could walk.

They followed Kate into the Bloom.

---

The hollow was a cave made of living fungus.

The walls breathed. The floor pulsed. The air was thick with spores that glowed silver-green and smelled of honey and rot.

Tommy sat in the corner, his knees pulled to his chest, his eyes fixed on James. He wasn't crying anymore. That was worse.

Kate lit a fire—real fire, not fungus-light—in a stone pit at the cave's center.

"The smoke keeps the spores from settling in your lungs," she said. "Don't leave the circle of light. The Bloom gets confused at night. It might mistake you for food."

"Comforting," Taylor said.

Kate ignored her. She sat across the fire from James, her shifting eyes watching him.

"You're different from the other Ember-touched I've met," she said.

"How many have you met?"

"Three. They all came to the Bloom, looking for sanctuary. They all died here."

James's blood went cold. "You killed them?"

"The Bloom killed them. Their Embers were too strong. The forest tried to eat the fragments, but the fragments fought back. The Bloom doesn't like things that fight back."

"Why did you let us in, then?"

"Because your Ember is different." Kate leaned forward. "It's not fighting the Bloom. It's curious. I've never felt anything like it."

The voice in James's head stirred.

She's perceptive. I like her.

"You can hear it, can't you?" Kate asked. "The fragment. It speaks to you."

"Yes."

"That's never happened before. The other Ember-touched, their fragments were asleep. Dormant. Yours is awake. Aware." She tilted her head. "What does it want?"

"Everything," James said.

Kate nodded. "That's what I was afraid of."

---

The Inquisition reached the Bloom's boundary at sunset.

James watched from the cave entrance, hidden by the glowing trees. Thirty hunters. Golden masks. Torches that burned blue—magic fire, meant to repel the fungus.

Commander Voss stood at their head. Even from this distance, James could see his scarred face, his cold eyes.

He was looking directly at the cave.

"He knows we're here," James said.

"Let him," Kate replied. "He can't enter. The Bloom will kill anyone who carries Inquisition wards."

"He's not carrying wards."

"He's carrying something worse." Kate's eyes flickered red. "He's carrying a Null-blade. It cuts through magic. Through the Bloom. Through me."

Taylor stepped up beside James. Her hands were empty—she'd given up her weapons—but her voice was sharp as any blade.

"If Voss enters the Bloom, I'm breaking your rules. I'll kill him with my bare hands if I have to."

Kate didn't argue. "He won't enter tonight. He'll wait. Starve us out. The Bloom doesn't provide food. Only shelter."

"Then we leave before morning," James said.

"Where will you go? The Syndicate wants you. The Inquisition wants you. The Dying King's followers want you." Kate counted on her fingers. "That's three factions, all hunting the same boy. The Bloom is the only place within a hundred miles that isn't controlled by one of them."

"There has to be somewhere else."

"There's the Fracture. But you'd die there. Wraiths, chasms, and the ghosts of dead gods." Kate shrugged. "Or the Glass Sea. But that's a two-week journey, and you'd have to cross Syndicate territory to get there."

Taylor was quiet for a long moment.

"The Glass Sea," she said finally. "There's a rumour. Someone there who can remove Ember fragments."

Kate's eyes widened—just a fraction. "You're talking about the Dissembler."

"Who's the Dissembler?" James asked.

"A myth," Kate said. "A person who supposedly learned how to separate Ember fragments from their vessels. The Inquisition burned a thousand people looking for them. The Syndicate spent a fortune on the same hunt. No one ever found proof the Dissembler existed."

"Because they're in the Glass Sea," Taylor said. "At the edge of the world, where no one goes."

"You believe this?" Kate asked.

"I believe that James can't keep losing memories. He's already forgotten his mother's face, his foster mother's name, his brother's first laugh. At this rate, he won't remember his own name in a month." Taylor looked at James. "The Glass Sea is a chance. Maybe the only chance."

"The Bloom could contain him indefinitely," Kate said. "He'd never leave. Tommy would be safe. James would be... preserved."

"Preserved?" James laughed—bitter and sharp. "You mean trapped. Sitting in a cave for the rest of my life while the Ember slowly eats everything I am."

"You'd still be alive."

"Would I?" He looked at his hands. The silver veins were darker now, spreading up his wrists. "If I can't remember who I am, am I still James? Or am I just the Ember wearing his skin?"

Kate didn't answer.

"The Glass Sea," James said. "How do we get there?"

"Two weeks on foot. Three if the weather turns." Kate stood. "You'll need supplies. Weapons. A guide."

"Will you guide us?"

"I can't leave the Bloom. The forest would die without me." She walked to the back of the cave and pulled a leather satchel from a crevice. "But I can give you something better. A map. Marked with safe passages, water sources, and the locations of friendly settlements."

She handed the satchel to James. It was heavy—filled with dried food, a waterskin, and a rolled-up parchment.

"The map is alive," Kate said. "The Bloom drew it. It will change as the forest changes. Trust it. Even when it doesn't make sense."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me. Thank the Bloom. It wants you to reach the Glass Sea." Her eyes shifted to solid black. "I don't know why. That scares me."

---

Tommy refused to sleep in the cave.

He sat by the fire, his back to the wall, his eyes on the entrance. James sat beside him.

"You're going to need rest," James said.

"So are you."

"I'll rest when we're safe."

"Then you'll never rest." Tommy looked at him. His face was too old for a twelve-year-old. "You're going to the Glass Sea without me, aren't you?"

James didn't answer.

"I heard you talking. With Taylor and the mushroom woman." Tommy's voice cracked. "You're going to leave me here."

"The Bloom is safe—"

"The Bloom is a forest that eats people!" Tommy stood up. "I'm not staying here. I'm coming with you."

"Tommy—"

"No!" The word echoed off the cave walls. "You promised. You promised you wouldn't leave me. You promised you'd come back. But you're not coming back this time. I can see it in your face."

James stood. He wanted to argue. He wanted to tell Tommy that the Glass Sea was too dangerous, that he'd be safer in the Bloom, that James would return as soon as he found the Dissembler.

But he couldn't lie. Not to Tommy.

"I don't know if I'm coming back," James said. "The Ember is getting stronger. Every day, I lose something else. By the time I reach the Glass Sea, I might not remember why I'm there."

"Then I'll remind you."

"You can't come. The Glass Sea is across the Fracture. Through wraith territory. Past the Syndicate's eastern checkpoints." James shook his head. "You'd die."

"So would you." Tommy grabbed his hand. "But at least we'd die together. That's better than dying alone in a cave, waiting for someone who forgot you existed."

James's throat tightened.

He's right, the voice said. Bring him. His blood is useful. A catalyst. He could amplify the Ember.

"Shut up," James whispered.

Tommy frowned. "I didn't say anything."

"Not you. The voice." James pulled his hand free. "It wants me to bring you. That's how I know it's a bad idea."

"Maybe the voice is right this once."

"Maybe." James looked at the fire. The flames danced, casting shadows that looked like reaching hands. "I'll think about it. That's the best I can do."

Tommy nodded. He sat back down, pulled his knees to his chest, and closed his eyes.

James stayed awake.

Watching the entrance.

Watching for golden masks that never came.

---

Taylor found him at midnight.

"Can't sleep?"

"Someone has to keep watch."

"The Bloom keeps watch. Nothing gets in without Kate knowing." She sat beside him. Her shoulder was bandaged—the crossbow graze from the townhouse. "You did the right thing. Leaving Tommy here."

"I haven't decided yet."

"You need to decide. We leave at dawn. If Tommy comes with us, he slows us down. He makes noise. He attracts attention." Taylor's voice was hard, but her eyes were softer than usual. "You know I'm right."

"I know you're not wrong. That's different."

They sat in silence for a while.

"The Glass Sea," James said. "Do you really think the Dissembler exists?"

"I think the Inquisition wouldn't have spent a century hunting someone who didn't exist." Taylor picked up a stone and turned it over in her hands. "And I think you're running out of options. The Syndicate wants to study you. The Inquisition wants to burn you. The Dying King wants to use you. The Glass Sea is the only place where no one wants anything from you."

"Except the Dissembler."

"Everyone wants something." She set down the stone. "The question is whether the price is worth paying."

James looked at the cave entrance. Beyond the glowing trees, the Bloom stretched into darkness. Somewhere out there, Voss was waiting.

Somewhere beyond that, the Glass Sea.

And somewhere inside James, the Ember was laughing.

Dawn, the voice whispered. Come dawn, we run again. I do love running.

James closed his eyes.

He didn't sleep.

But he rested.

And when dawn came, he made his choice.