Chapter Five: Secrets of the Burnt Map
The enforcers came at dawn.
Black-cloaked and merciless, they marched through the valley like a tide of shadow, their helms glinting gold in the mist. At their front rode a man Kael knew all too well—Captain Roneth Vale, once his mentor, now the king's favorite executioner.
From atop Bravestone's watchtower, Kael watched them with a hard gaze.
"They brought siege wolves," he muttered. "They're not here for a conversation."
Arien stood beside him, her hood drawn low. "They're hunting. That's what they do."
Kael turned to her. "We need to move the elders and the children underground. The caves behind the mill—will they hold?"
She nodded. "Yes. But for how long?"
Kael didn't answer.
Instead, his eyes drifted to the bundle in her arms—an old scroll, charred at the edges. She had shown it to him only minutes before. It bore no title, but when Arien had unrolled it, Kael had felt the air change. The parchment shimmered faintly, as if it breathed.
"This map… it's not just paper, is it?" he'd asked.
"No," she'd replied. "It was my mother's. Before she died, she told me it leads to Sanctum Pyra—a hidden temple. A place where fire isn't feared, but born."
Now, with an army at their gates, that map felt like their only real hope.
---
In the chaos of evacuation, Kael slipped through the crowd and entered the old chapel near the village edge. Dust clung to everything, but he knew where to look.
Beneath the altar, behind a loose stone, he found what he had buried years ago: a second blade.
This one was not a soldier's weapon.
It was blackened, the edge forged in dragonfire. A gift from a mage he'd once spared… and secretly trained with, before the enforcers caught wind of it and made her vanish.
Kael whispered a prayer. Not to gods. To her.
"Seren, if your fire still watches me… lend me your strength."
When he emerged, sword strapped across his back, Arien was waiting.
"You're ready," she said, not a question.
Kael nodded. "And you?"
She opened her palm. A single ember hovered above her skin, flickering gold.
"We burn, remember?"
---
At the gates, the enforcers lined up. Roneth stepped forward.
"I offer this village mercy," he declared, voice booming. "Give us the girl. The mage. And the rest of you live."
Silence.
Then a voice rose from the crowd.
"You want her?" It was Kael, stepping between the gates. "You'll have to go through me."
Murmurs rippled through the villagers. Roneth frowned. "You disappoint me, Kael."
"You trained me too well," Kael said, unsheathing both blades.
Then Arien stepped beside him, her eyes glowing orange. The ember in her palm burst into a living flame.
Roneth didn't flinch. "So be it."
He raised a hand—and the attack began.
Fire met steel. Screams tore through the morning fog. Kael fought like a man unchained, blades dancing, each strike born of purpose. Arien moved beside him, her flames arcing in bright lashes, protecting the innocents behind them.
Somewhere in the chaos, the burnt map slipped from her cloak and caught a spark—but didn't burn. Instead, its lines glowed, revealing something unseen: a new path.
Arien's eyes widened.
"Kael," she shouted over the clash. "The map—it's al
ive."
"Then we survive," he growled, deflecting a strike. "And we follow it."