LAST EMBER

Chapter Six – Across the Wastes

The wastes stretched farther than Kaelen had ever imagined.

For three days, they walked beneath a sky that never changed, an endless sheet of ash drifting like ghostly snow. The ember kept them alive, its glow warding off the deepest cold, but the world tested them in every other way.

Food grew scarce. Their water froze solid in its skins. The winds rose into shrieking tempests that scoured the skin raw. Even Seris, unshaken until now, began to move more slowly, her breaths ragged.

Kaelen bore the ember close to his chest, each pulse a reminder of his responsibility. But the ember felt heavier now, as though it sensed the growing distance from its true home—the Dawnspire.

On the fourth morning, they stumbled into the edge of a storm. The sky boiled with ash so thick it blotted out all sight. The wind tore at them, driving ice and grit against their faces.

“We need shelter!” Seris shouted, her voice barely carrying.

Daren leaned on his staff, his body bent against the gale. “There’s nothing out here!”

“Then we keep moving,” Seris snapped.

Kaelen pulled Tomas into his arms, shielding the boy beneath his cloak. He felt the child shiver, his small body trembling against him. The ember pulsed warmly, fighting the storm’s bite, but even its heat felt fragile.

Hours blurred into torment. They trudged through waist-deep drifts of ash until Kaelen’s legs nearly gave out. Just as despair threatened to break him, Seris raised a hand, pointing.

“There!”

Through the storm’s veil, a jagged shape rose from the frost—a shattered tower, half-buried, the last remnant of some forgotten outpost.

They staggered inside, collapsing against the stone walls. The air was stale but still, the storm’s howl dulled beyond the ruin’s shell.

Kaelen lowered Tomas carefully. The boy was pale, lips blue. Lira pressed close, her eyes wide with fear. “He’s freezing.”

Kaelen drew out the ember. The glow filled the ruin, warm and steady, chasing the frost from the boy’s skin. Tomas let out a weak sigh, his trembling easing.

The others huddled near, soaking in the warmth. For a moment, Kaelen thought he saw something strange—the ember’s light seemed to pulse brighter when surrounded by them all, as though responding to their closeness.

Seris noticed it too. Her eyes narrowed. “It knows. The ember feeds not only on its bearer, but on those it shelters.”

Daren shifted uneasily. “Then maybe… maybe that’s why it should be mine. I could lead people with it. Nations, not just this handful.”

Seris’s blade gleamed faintly in the light. “We’ve walked this road before, Daren. Don’t repeat it.”

Daren clenched his jaw, but said nothing more.

That night, Kaelen couldn’t sleep. He sat apart, the ember glowing in his hands. Its warmth soothed his wound, eased his exhaustion. But it also whispered to him—not in words, but in feelings. Hunger. Yearning. As if it longed to burn brighter, to be set free.

Kaelen’s thoughts circled endlessly. How much longer could he carry it? How much longer before it consumed him—or chose another?

He thought of his father’s words: Fire is hope. Protect it, even when you have none left for yourself.

But what if protecting it meant losing everything else?

In the silence, Seris came to sit beside him. For once, her voice held no steel, only quiet weariness. “You’re thinking of giving it up.”

Kaelen glanced at her, startled. “How—”

“I’ve carried it before,” she said softly. “Not this ember, but another. They all whisper. They test you. Make you question if you are strong enough.”

Kaelen studied her face in the glow. “And were you strong enough?”

Seris looked away, shadows flickering across her sharp features. “No. That’s why your father carried it after me.”

The admission cut through Kaelen like a blade. Seris, so unshakable, had failed. His father had carried the ember until his death. And now it was him.

A boy.

Kaelen closed his eyes. “Then maybe I’ll fail too.”

Seris’s hand rested lightly on his shoulder. “Or maybe you won’t. The ember doesn’t choose the strongest. It chooses the one who will keep walking, even when strength is gone.”

Kaelen looked down at the ember. Its pulse was steady, like a heartbeat. He tightened his grip.

The storm howled on outside, but inside the ruin, Kaelen made his choice. He would walk. He would not stop.

Not until the Dawnspire.