The wind howled through the broken trees as Liora stumbled over a tangle of roots, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her bare feet stung from every rock and branch, but she didn't dare stop. Kael's grip was firm on her wrist, dragging her faster through the dark forest.
Behind them, the glow of the burning monastery cast flickering light across the trees. Smoke curled through the branches like ghostly fingers.
"Where are we going?" Liora finally asked, her voice hoarse.
"Anywhere but there," Kael muttered, not slowing down.
They broke through the brush into a clearing where a narrow stream wound between moss-covered stones. Kael knelt and splashed cold water on his face, then looked up at her.
"You used it."
Liora crossed her arms, shivering. "Used what?"
"The ember," he said. "It's awake now. That light... those visions... they were real."
"I didn't ask for it."
"No one ever does."
A silence stretched between them. Liora dropped to her knees by the stream, cupping her hands to drink. The water was freezing, but it dulled the heat still curling in her chest.
"I saw things," she whispered. "A woman made of fire. A war. The sky breaking apart."
Kael looked away. "Echoes. Memories locked inside the ember. You're bonded to something far older than either of us."
"Why me?"
"I don't know."
He stood, brushing dirt from his cloak. "But I know who might."
Liora looked up sharply. "You said the Queen wants the ember. That she'll kill me or use me. So why would anyone help us?"
"Because not everyone wants the gods to return."
She frowned. "What does that mean?"
Kael hesitated, then offered a hand. "Come with me. I'll explain on the way. We need to move before the scouts catch up."
She stared at his hand for a long moment, then took it.
As they disappeared into the forest's shadows, the ember inside Liora pulsed again—warm, alive, and waiting.