The storm was rising.
Snowfall hissed like a thousand whispered curses as Kael Thorne stepped out of the tavern and into the midnight wind. The city of Virelyn, with its frozen towers and death-pale streets, blurred under the weight of white. But he didn't need to see her to find her.
He could feel her.
He had hunted monsters. Hunted mages. Once, long ago, he'd even hunted gods.
But this girl—this creature of snow and forbidden fire—moved like something half-forgotten by the stars. He followed her footprints, faint as breath, through twisting alleyways and over ice-glazed stones, the scent of frost and ash still clinging to the air like a warning.
She didn't know she was being followed.
Not yet.
Kael tugged his hood lower, dark stubble dusting his jaw, his eyes the storm-gray of shattered promises. Every step was careful. Controlled. He was good at hiding in plain sight. Years of exile had taught him the art of vanishing even while standing in a room.
The bounty poster burned against his ribs, pressed close to his heart.
"WANTED: Weatherbinder suspected of elemental heresy. Subject: Eira Wynter. Last seen in Virelyn. Extreme caution advised. Powers unknown. Dead or alive—preferably dead."
They always said "preferably dead" when they were afraid.
Kael wasn't afraid.
He was curious.
---
At the Edge of the City
Eira moved fast, boots crunching softly on the icy cobbles as she ducked into a narrow passage behind the butcher's row. Her heart thundered against her ribs, but it wasn't fear. Not exactly. More like anticipation. A pressure she couldn't name, pressing against her skin like the promise of something coming.
The flame had sparked again tonight. Not just in her hand—in her chest.
It had called.
And something had answered.
She stopped beneath an old wrought-iron arch, frost-laced vines climbing the stone like skeletal fingers. Snow gathered on her lashes. Her breath caught.
She wasn't alone.
"Beautiful night for a walk."
The voice was low. Rough. Threaded with amusement—and danger.
She spun.
A man leaned against the stone wall behind her, tall and cloaked in shadow, one boot braced lazily against the frost-worn bricks. His hood was still up, hiding most of his face, but his voice curled around her like smoke.
Eira's instincts flared. Her magic surged just beneath her skin.
"And you are?" she asked coldly.
"Thirsty. Tired. And a little curious about the girl who walks the city like she doesn't care who sees her burn."
Eira's blood went cold. Then hot.
She took a step back. "You've got the wrong person."
"I don't." He pushed off the wall, slow and deliberate, until the wind parted just enough to show her his face.
Sharp jaw. Crooked scar over his left eyebrow. Eyes like a storm on the edge of breaking.
Not a palace guard. Not a bounty hunter either. He looked… wilder. Less polished. Too sure of himself.
Eira squared her shoulders. "If you know who I am, then you know I could kill you."
Kael tilted his head. "Could you?"
His tone wasn't mocking. It was genuinely interested. Like he wanted to find out.
Eira's fingers twitched. A flare of heat lit her palm. Just a whisper of flame—but enough to bathe her face in a sudden, golden glow.
Kael didn't flinch. In fact, he stepped closer.
"I'm not here to turn you in."
"Then why are you here?"
"Because you don't belong in this frozen coffin of a kingdom," he said quietly, almost kindly. "And because the thing inside you? It's bigger than you know. And it's waking up."
Eira stared at him, heart thudding like war drums. "Who are you?"
He smiled. It was not a comforting smile.
"I'm the man who's going to keep you alive—whether you like it or not."
---
Later That Night — Hidden Cellar Beneath the Forge District
The door slammed shut behind them, cutting off the wind like a blade.
Eira's senses were high-strung, her magic pulsing erratically as she scanned the small space—stone walls, a dusty cot, an old furnace long gone cold. It smelled of soot, copper, and something older. Kael tossed a satchel on the ground and pulled off his gloves, flexing scarred fingers.
"You can stay here tonight," he said. "No one knows about this place but me."
She didn't answer. Didn't move.
"Why are you helping me?" she asked finally.
Kael glanced over his shoulder. "Let's just say I owe a debt. To someone who once carried fire the way you do."
Eira frowned. "A firebinder?"
He didn't answer.
But something flickered in his eyes—something haunted.
"You should sleep," he added, voice rougher now. "You'll need your strength. The Queen has more than bounty posters now. Word is, she's sent the Whisperguard. And if they find you—"
"What?"
"They won't kill you."
She waited.
"They'll cage you. Bind your fire. Use it." He met her gaze. "Turn you into a weapon they control."
Eira swallowed. Her knees felt weak. She sat, slowly, the cot creaking beneath her weight.
Kael walked to the furnace, pulled something from his coat—a tiny sparkstone—and struck it. Firelight bloomed. Warm, golden, safe.
He looked at her over his shoulder again.
"Tomorrow, we run."