Quiet Fire
518 Words
The next morning, Caelen didn’t speak to Brynn.
She greeted him like usual, brief nod, rationed breakfast, eyes tired but steady, but he kept his gaze down, feigning exhaustion. She didn’t push.
It felt strange. Wrong, even.
He didn’t want to doubt her.
But he’d heard his name in her voice. And that changed everything.
He followed her through the Hollow tunnels, deeper into the rebel camp. The stone grew colder the further they walked, until even the firelight dimmed into a dull red glow against the walls.
“This is where they keep the old texts,” Brynn said. “Figured you’d want to see.”
He didn’t answer. Not yet.
She pushed open a heavy wooden door.
Inside: a circular vault, filled with cracked tomes and stone shelves carved into the walls. Scorch marks painted the corners. The smell of smoke never left this place.
Sister Elowen stood at the far end, brushing ash from an ancient book.
“I thought you were resting,” she said, not looking up.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Caelen muttered.
“Good. Then you’re ready.”
She laid a worn scroll in front of him. The ink was faded but still visible, sharp, curling symbols he didn’t recognize.
“What is it?” he asked.
“A record,” Elowen said. “Of the last Emberborn.”
He froze. “There was another?”
“There were many. But only one who lived long enough to earn the name.”
She touched the scroll gently. “His fire ended kingdoms. Raised mountains. And burned himself hollow before the end.”
Caelen stared at the writing. “And you want me to be like him?”
Elowen’s gaze met his for the first time. “No,” she said. “We want you to do better.”
Later, Caelen sat alone in a storage room near the lower quarter. The rebels gave him space now, not out of respect, but fear.
He pulled the Ember medallion from his coat. Turned it over in his fingers. The edges were warm again.
He placed it flat on his palm.
Focused.
Nothing.
Then… a flicker.
A whisper.
Not a word. Not even a thought.
Just a feeling, deep and steady:
Not yet. But soon.
He tucked it away as Brynn approached.
“You okay?” she asked, leaning against the doorway.
He nodded slowly. “Just thinking.”
She watched him carefully. “About what?”
He lied. “The scroll. That Emberborn.”
“Did it help?”
“I don’t know yet.”
She looked like she wanted to say something else, but didn’t. Instead, she just said, “They’re planning to move you soon. The Crown’s closing in.”
Caelen stood. “Then we should go before they decide to use me.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What does that mean?”
He looked her in the eye, for once, steady. “It means I’m done waiting for someone to tell me who I am.”
And then, for the first time since they met, he walked away first.
- Writer
