Chapter Two: The Flame That Sleeps
860 Words
Kaelith stared at the paper in her hands, barely breathing.
The Last Heir of Embers.
Her face. Her name. A bounty.
Rian shifted beside her, his voice barely above a whisper. “That’s... not just any bounty. It’s royal. The kind they hang on palace walls.”
Kaelith folded the paper quickly and shoved it deep into her cloak. “It doesn’t make sense. I’m no heir. I grew up in the shelters. I don’t have a family name. I don’t even know where I was born.”
“Maybe you don’t,” Rian said, “but someone clearly does. And they’re scared of what you are.”
Kaelith looked at him. “What I am?”
Rian glanced toward the cracked stained-glass window. The guards outside were beginning to move away. “You set a wall on fire just by being afraid. That’s not normal, Kael.”
She stayed quiet. He was right.
The fire... it responded to her. Not always, not in ways she could control. But it listened.
It was alive.
And now, someone out there believed she was heir to a forgotten throne—one that had burned out seventeen years ago.
“Do you believe in the Ember Queen?” Kaelith asked, eyes still on the shadows outside.
Rian scoffed. “You sound like an old street preacher.”
“I’m serious.”
He was quiet for a moment. Then, “I don’t know. Maybe once. They say she ruled with fire in her veins. That she walked into battle barefoot and came out without a scratch. But she disappeared. Just like that. One day the sun rose, and she was gone.”
Kaelith’s fingers tingled. “What if she didn’t die?”
Rian looked at her sideways. “What are you saying?”
“I’ve been dreaming of a fire throne. Of a burning crown. And someone keeps whispering my name like they know me—like they’re calling me back.”
“That’s not normal,” he muttered, standing up. “And it’s not safe either. Dreams like that are dangerous, especially now.”
Kaelith stood too, brushing ash from her cloak. “We need to leave the city.”
“What?” Rian frowned. “Leave Emberholt? Where would we even go?”
“I don’t know yet,” she admitted. “But if they’ve put a price on my head, they won’t stop until they find me. I need answers. I need to know if what they’re saying is true.”
Rian hesitated. “You’re serious.”
“Yes.”
He ran a hand through his hair, then gave a shaky laugh. “Well, flame or no flame, I’m not letting you go out there alone. You’d probably walk into a war zone without blinking.”
She smiled, just a little. “Thank you.”
“But,” he added, “we need help. We need someone who knows the old ways—magic, history, the truth behind this Ember Heir story. Otherwise, we’re just guessing.”
Kaelith nodded. “There’s someone.”
Rian raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been planning this, haven’t you?”
“No,” she said honestly. “But I remember something the fire-whisperer said that night. The man who called me Heir. He said, ‘Find the one who still remembers the fire’s name.’”
“That’s… cryptic.”
“I think it’s a clue.”
“Or a trap.”
“Maybe both,” she said. “But it’s the only lead I have.”
---
They moved through the sleeping city just before dawn. Emberholt was quieter now, though smoke still drifted in the air like old breath. The ash-covered streets were empty. The bell towers stood like skeletons.
Kaelith wrapped a scarf around her face to hide the scar. Rian carried a satchel of stolen supplies—dried meat, a cracked compass, two coins, and a flask of bitter water. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to start.
They avoided the main roads, slipping between alleys and broken buildings. Dogs barked in the distance. A few blackbirds watched from rooftops, silent and still.
Then Kaelith froze.
They had reached the Bone Bridge.
It stretched over the dark river like a jagged spine, its stones worn smooth from time and fire. Beneath it, the river ran black with ash and secrets. But it wasn’t the bridge that made her stop.
It was the figure standing in the middle of it.
Cloaked in gray. Hood low. No torch.
Rian grabbed her arm. “We turn back.”
“No,” Kaelith said, stepping forward slowly. “Wait here.”
“What? No—Kael—”
But she was already walking toward the stranger.
The figure didn’t move. The wind pushed back the hood slightly, revealing the bottom half of a face—older, with a long scar down the jaw. His hands were bare and calloused, but not armed.
“You are late,” he said.
Kaelith narrowed her eyes. “Do I know you?”
“No,” the man replied, “but I knew your mother.”
---
To be continued...
- Writer
