Nicolette leaned against the broken wall, her breath ragged. Smoke curled from her fingertips, the last of her fire flickering out. Across the hall, the masked stranger stood with his sword lowered but ready, watching her like a hawk.
"You fight like someone running from their own shadow," he said. His voice was deep, steady. "Tell me, girl… what do you fear most?"
Nicolette clenched her fists. Her body trembled, but she forced her gaze up to the slits of his mask. "Not you," she whispered. "And not death."
The stranger tilted his head. "Then perhaps… the truth."
The word struck harder than any blade. Before she could answer, the floor rumbled. Dark growls rose from beneath, and shadows seeped through the cracks, moving closer.
The masked man turned. "This place will swallow you whole unless you choose." He extended his hand. "Swear the oath. Bind your fire, or be consumed by it."
She hesitated. He could be a trick, another illusion of the ruins. Yet the shadows' snarls grew louder, and she had no strength left for doubt.
Her hand, scorched and trembling, pressed into his. Heat surged through her chest, different from her wild flames—controlled, steady, alive.
"By fire and blood," he intoned, voice echoing like thunder, "do you swear to bear the flame, to stand when all else falls, to protect the crownless and the broken?"
Her lips shook, but she forced the answer. "I swear."
Light burst around her. Fire wrapped her form, no longer wild but shaped—obedient. For the first time, she felt the flames answer her will.
The masked man raised his sword. "Then rise, bearer of the oath. Tonight, we fight."
The shadows burst into the hall. Nicolette gripped her new flame-forged blade, heart steady. She no longer feared the fire. She no longer feared the dark. She was ready!!