EMBERS OF THE FORSAKEN

The Hunter's Prey

The bounty went up on a Tuesday.

James heard about it from a half-blind trader in a muddy market town fifty miles from the Glass Sea. The man didn't know who James was—just that someone was offering a fortune in gold for information about "the boy who collects silver fire."

"How much?" James asked, keeping his voice casual.

"Ten thousand crowns. Alive." The trader spat on the ground. "Dead's only worth five. Someone wants you breathing."

James bought a loaf of bread and walked back to the camp.

Taylor was sharpening her sword by the fire. Sarai was braiding Tommy's hair—a habit she'd picked up, calming for both of them.

"We have a problem," James said.

"We always have a problem." Taylor didn't look up. "What is it this time?"

"Someone posted a bounty. Ten thousand crowns for me alive. Five thousand dead."

Taylor's knife stopped moving. "Who?"

"The trader didn't know. But the bounty went up across all five kingdoms. Syndicate territory. Inquisition territory. Even the free cities."

"That's not possible," Sarai said. "The Syndicate and Inquisition don't cooperate."

"They're not cooperating. They're competing." James sat by the fire. "Someone wants me badly enough to pay both sides."

"The Dying King's followers?"

"They don't have that kind of money."

"The Dissembler?"

"The Dissembler doesn't care about money."

Taylor stood. "Then who?"

James didn't have an answer.

---

The first hunters came at sunset.

They were Syndicate—three of them, wearing grey cloaks and carrying crossbows. They didn't announce themselves. Didn't demand surrender. Just started shooting.

Taylor heard the first bolt whistle past her ear and dropped to the ground.

"Ambush!" she shouted.

James grabbed Tommy and pulled him behind a fallen log. Sarai raised her hands—silver light flaring—but the hunters were too far away. Too spread out.

Taylor returned fire with her crossbow. One hunter went down. The other two ran.

"Leave them," James said. "They'll bring friends."

"We need to move."

"Where? Every town between here and the Glass Sea has seen the bounty. We can't trust anyone."

Taylor looked at the dead hunter. Grey cloak. Syndicate brand on his forearm. A small leather purse on his belt, bulging with coins.

She opened it.

Gold. More gold than a Syndicate hunter should carry.

"Someone's paying upfront," she said. "That's not normal."

"Nothing about this is normal."

---

They traveled through the night.

Tommy rode his small horse, exhausted but silent. Sarai walked beside him, her silver-touched eyes scanning the darkness. James led the way, the fragments on his palm pulsing faintly—six of them now, trapped against his skin like captive fireflies.

"They're tracking the fragments," Sarai said. "That's how they found us."

"Can you feel them?"

"Not the hunters. The... attention. Something is watching through the fragments. Searching."

"The core?"

"No. Something else. Something new."

James looked at the silver flames on his palm. They seemed brighter than before. Hungrier.

"We need to get to the Glass Sea," he said. "Feed these fragments to the core. Before whatever's watching finds us."

"That's what it wants."

"What?"

"The attention. The tracking. Whatever is watching wants you to bring the fragments to the core." Sarai's voice was quiet. "Maybe that's the point."

"Then we walk into the trap."

"Maybe. Or maybe we spring it on our own terms."

---

The second hunters came at dawn.

Inquisition this time. Six of them, wearing golden masks and carrying Null-blades. They didn't bother with crossbows—they wanted James alive.

Taylor saw them first.

"North ridge. Moving fast."

"How many?"

"Six. More behind them, probably."

James grabbed Tommy and put him on the horse. "Ride east. Don't stop until you reach the Glass Sea."

"I'm not leaving you!"

"You're not leaving me. You're getting help." James slapped the horse's flank. The animal bolted.

Tommy's shouts faded into the distance.

Sarai raised her hands. Silver light exploded from her palms, blinding the lead hunters. Taylor charged.

James stayed behind the log, watching.

The Null-blades made it hard for Sarai to use her power—the fragments on James's palm flickered, dimmed, almost went out. But Taylor was fast. Faster than the hunters expected.

She took down two before they even raised their swords.

The third swung at her head. She ducked, rolled, and buried her knife in his thigh. He screamed and fell.

The fourth and fifth circled around.

James stood.

"Hey," he said. "I'm the one you want."

They turned.

James raised his hand—the one with the fragments. Silver fire blazed from his palm, not hot, but bright. Brighter than the sun. Brighter than anything the hunters had ever seen.

They stumbled back, covering their eyes.

Taylor killed them both.

The sixth hunter ran.

"Let him go," James said. "Let him tell everyone what he saw."

"That's dangerous."

"That's the point." James looked at the bodies. "The more people who know about the fragments, the more will come to us. We don't have to hunt them. They'll hunt us."

"And when they bring an army?"

"Then we find a bigger trap."

---

They reached the Glass Sea on the third day.

The bone-house stood where they'd left it, skulls grinning in the pale light. The Dissembler was waiting at the entrance, their mismatched eyes fixed on the silver flames on James's palm.

"Six," they said. "You've been busy."

"Seven soon. I can feel another one nearby. To the south."

"The swamps?"

"Yes."

The Dissembler nodded. "The core is stable. For now. But it's hungry. The fragments you've collected are barely enough to keep it sedated."

"Then we need to move faster."

"You need to be careful." The Dissembler stepped aside, letting James enter the bone-house. "The bounty on your head has attracted attention. Not just from the Syndicate and Inquisition. From something older."

"The core?"

"No. Something that was sleeping beneath the Glass Sea long before the god-war. Something that's waking up."

James stopped walking. "What is it?"

"I don't know. But it's been calling the fragments. Calling the core. Calling you." The Dissembler's voice was soft. "Be ready, James. The worst is yet to come."

---

That night, James fed the fragments to the core.

One by one, he pressed them into the heart slab in the ritual chamber. The silver light flared, pulsed, dimmed. The core drank them like water.

When the last fragment was gone, James collapsed.

Taylor caught him.

"How do you feel?" she asked.

"Empty. Like before. Like the Ember all over again." He looked at his palm. The silver flames were gone. His skin was pale, cold. "But different. The core took something from me. Not a memory. Something else."

"What?"

"I don't know. A feeling. A connection." He stood, swaying. "I need to rest."

"Then rest." Taylor led him to a bone chair. "I'll wake you if something happens."

James closed his eyes.

---

He dreamed of the thing beneath the Glass Sea.

It was vast and dark and ancient. Older than Emberion. Older than the gods. It had been sleeping for eons, buried under salt and bone and forgotten time.

The core had woken it.

The fragments had fed it.

And now it was looking at James.

You carry my children's children, it said. The fragments of fragments. The echoes of echoes.

"I don't know what you are," James said.

No. You don't. But you will.

The thing reached toward him—not with hands, but with intent. James felt it touching his mind, his memories, his fears.

You are afraid of losing yourself. Of becoming a vessel. Of being consumed.

"Yes."

Good. Fear is honest. Fear is real. The thing withdrew. The core is dying. The fragments are scattered. The world is burning. But you—you might be the spark that saves it.

"Or the spark that burns it down."

Yes. That too.

The dream ended.

---

James woke to shouting.

"Jamie! JAMIE!"

Tommy's voice.

James ran to the bone-house entrance.

The boy was riding toward them on his small horse, his face pale, his arm bleeding. Behind him, a column of smoke rose from the south.

"Tommy!" James caught him as he fell from the saddle. "What happened?"

"People. Soldiers. They came to the valley. They burned the farmhouse." Tommy's voice shook. "They asked where you were. I didn't tell them. They hit me. I ran."

"Who were they?"

"I don't know. Not Inquisition. Not Syndicate." Tommy grabbed James's shirt. "Their eyes. Jamie, their eyes. Silver. Like the fragments. Like the core."

James looked at Taylor.

"Possessed," she said. "The fragments are possessing people."

"Can they do that?"

"The Dissembler said the fragments were dormant. Waiting for vessels. Maybe they stopped waiting."

Sarai walked to the ridge, her silver eyes scanning the horizon. "They're coming. A large group. Fifty. Maybe more."

"Armed?"

"Swords. Axes. No crossbows. They want us alive."

James looked at the bone-house. At the ritual chamber below. At the core pulsing in its stone prison.

"We can't fight fifty people," he said.

"Then we run," Taylor replied.

"Where? The Glass Sea is flat. They'll see us for miles."

"The tunnels."

"What tunnels?"

The Dissembler stepped forward. "Beneath the bone-house. Old passages, carved by the first people who lived here. They lead to the coast. To the sea."

"How do you know?"

"Because I built them. A thousand years ago, when I was still mortal." The Dissembler's mismatched eyes were distant. "I was the first vessel. The first person to carry an Ember fragment. The core chose me. But I refused."

"What happened?"

"I buried myself here. In this bone-house. I waited for someone else to come. Someone strong enough to do what I couldn't." They looked at James. "You're that someone."

James stared at the Dissembler.

"You're Emberion's first vessel."

"I'm the reason the fragments exist. The god didn't scatter them. I did. When I refused to carry the core, Emberion tore himself apart. The fragments were his death throes." The Dissembler's voice was calm. "I've been waiting a thousand years for someone to clean up my mess."

"Then help us clean it." James grabbed their arm. "Show us the tunnels. Get us to the coast. And then tell us how to end this."

The Dissembler nodded.

"Follow me."

---

The tunnels were narrow and dark.

James crawled through the stone passage, his shoulders scraping the walls. Taylor followed behind him, Tommy between them. Sarai brought up the rear, her silver eyes glowing faintly.

Behind them, the bone-house shook. The possessed soldiers had arrived.

"They're inside," the Dissembler said. "They'll find the ritual chamber soon. The core will call to them."

"Will they feed it?"

"No. The core doesn't want them. It wants you."

James crawled faster.

The tunnel opened into a cave—natural, wide, with a pool of seawater at its center. Sunlight filtered through a crack in the ceiling.

"The coast," the Dissembler said. "The sea leads north. To the free cities. To places where the fragments haven't spread."

"We can't run forever."

"No. But you can run long enough to find a better plan."

Taylor waded into the pool. The water was cold, clear, deep. "There's an outlet. A tunnel to the open sea."

"Can we swim it?"

"Yes. But Tommy—"

"I can swim," Tommy said. His voice was steady. "I've been practicing."

James looked at him. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

They dove into the water.

---

The underwater tunnel was longer than James expected.

His lungs burned. His arms ached. Beside him, Tommy kicked and pulled, his small body working hard.

Silver light flickered above them—the fragments, or the core, or something else. James didn't look back.

He just swam.

They broke the surface in a rocky cove, waves crashing against black stone. Taylor pulled Tommy onto a ledge. James climbed after them.

Sarai emerged last, gasping.

The Dissembler didn't come.

James looked back at the tunnel. "They stayed."

"They were never going to leave," Taylor said. "The bone-house is their prison. Their purpose. Their penance."

"We can't just leave them."

"We can't save everyone, James." Taylor's voice was hard. "You know that."

James stared at the water.

Then he turned away.

"North," he said. "To the free cities. To find a way to end this."

They walked along the coast, the waves crashing beside them.

Behind them, the Glass Sea burned with silver fire.