The trail beyond the ambush site had grown more twisted, the foliage darker and more oppressive. Sunlight struggled to pierce the thick canopy, and the ever-present embers of the road were fewer now, casting dimmer glows along the trail. The group rode in silence, the weariness of the battle behind them still clinging like a second skin.
Kieran rode near the front once more, his thoughts tangled in the aftershocks of his sudden display of power. He could still feel it—the heat lingering beneath his skin, not painful, but restless. The fire hadn't just reacted; it had answered him, rising without command. He didn't know how to explain it, even to himself.
Beside him, Maera's eyes never stopped scanning the woods. "No signs of pursuit," she said finally, breaking the long silence. "They were likely scavengers. Desperate, not organized. But still dangerous."
"I wonder if we'll see more of them before we reach the next town," Ysolde said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. She glanced toward Kieran. "You really didn't cast a spell, back there?"
Kieran shook his head slowly. "Not like a traditional one. No glyphs. No incantation. It just... responded to me."
"Bloodline magic," Maera muttered. "It's rare. Dangerous too, if you don't learn to control it."
Kieran kept his gaze ahead. "I don't think it was a coincidence that it awakened when it did. Everything that's happened—there's something pulling strings behind all of it. Logically, there's no reason our family should be this unlucky for this long. It's too deliberate. Too targeted."
The thought gnawed at him. Ever since that night—the fire, the prophecy carved into stone and drawn into his very being—he'd felt a presence at the edge of his awareness, subtle but insistent. The awakening hadn't been random. The heat that surged through him was too aligned, too timely. Maybe it had been dormant, waiting for a trigger, or maybe something else—someone else—had orchestrated it all. The timing of the attack, the strange mark in the stone, the whispered intuition that things were unfolding according to a plan he hadn't seen yet—they weren't just coincidences. He could feel it in the marrow of his bones: he was part of something bigger. And that both terrified and steeled him.
Maera gave him a sidelong glance, but didn't inquire further.
As the group returned to the site of the ambush, they began to search the fallen bandits. The bodies were still warm, and the stench of blood was heavy in the air. Maera took charge, quickly moving from corpse to corpse.
"Check their pouches. Any markings on armor or weapons," she said. "We need to know who they were, or who they worked for."
Ysolde looked hesitant but nodded. She knelt by a bandit and began rummaging through the man's satchel. "Mostly dried meat... coins... oh, and this." She held up a small insignia, worn and faded.
Kieran moved from body to body, keeping his expression cold. He found a dagger, finely made and clearly stolen, and pocketed it. Another bandit had a pouch of gemstones—probably looted. He opened a third's coat and paused.
"Maera," he called. She came over, brows furrowed.
Inside the coat was a letter, sealed with dark wax. She broke it open and read silently. Her frown deepened.
"Nothing useful?" Kieran asked.
"Depends," Maera muttered. "This is a contract. Someone hired them to patrol this part of the Emberroad... and to kill anyone traveling with a child matching your description."
Kieran's gut twisted.
They shared grim looks. Ysolde clutched her staff tighter. "So we were targeted."
"We were," Maera said. "Keep what you can carry. The rest, leave."
They continued on until the trail began to widen again, signs of old paving stones peeking from beneath layers of dirt and moss. The group slowed as the trees gave way to a clearing with the remnants of a stone structure—just a few walls and archways now, half-swallowed by vines.
"We'll stop here for a short rest," Maera said. "It's safer than the open trail."
The group dismounted and moved to the center of the ruin. Ysolde began preparing a small meal from their supplies, while Maera kept watch along the edge of the clearing.
Kieran moved a short distance away and sat on a broken column. He closed his eyes, focusing inward. The ember answered him again, a slow, steady burn in his core. He began practicing his mana control, drawing the energy into his limbs. He shaped it into slow, controlled pulses, then into more refined threads of warmth. It was difficult—the flame didn't like to be bound. It wanted to roar.
His breathing deepened as he entered a meditative state. He could feel the resistance in his veins, as though the fire challenged his every attempt to direct it. And yet, he also sensed a strange sort of respect from it. Like it recognized him as its vessel, if not yet its master.
Sweat beaded on his brow as he tried to shape the mana into a small orb above his palm. The heat made his arm tremble, but slowly, the flicker formed. It pulsed, unstable, but held shape. Just as it started to spin, a loud snap in the distance shattered his focus.
Kieran sprang to his feet, dousing the flicker instantly. Maera was already at his side, her blade half-drawn.
"Something moved out there," she said quietly.
Ysolde had her staff ready, her eyes scanning the tree line.
But after several tense moments, nothing emerged. The forest held its breath.
"It could've been an animal," Maera finally said, though her tone didn't fully believe it.
"Or something testing our guard," Kieran added.
They stayed another ten minutes, eating quickly and in silence. Kieran's thoughts kept returning to the ember within him, how it had responded with aggression when he felt fear. He knew it would protect him—but he also knew it could just as easily consume him if he wasn't careful.
As they mounted their horses again, Ysolde rode up beside him. "Do you think you can control it? Whatever it is?"
Kieran gave her a small smile. "I have to."
Ysolde fell quiet for a moment, then added, "You know, it was kind of impressive. Scary, but impressive."
Kieran chuckled softly. "I didn't feel impressive. I felt like I was holding back a wildfire with a teacup."
"That's one powerful teacup, then," she said with a grin.
Maera, overhearing them, smirked. "Just make sure that teacup doesn't explode on us next time."
Their laughter was brief, but it helped lift the heaviness hanging over them. The trees began to thin as they neared the edge of the forest. The dying embers along the road glowed a little brighter, as if sensing their approach.
Kieran looked ahead, jaw set. He still didn't know what lay ahead—or who was behind the strings being pulled. But he was ready to find out. Whatever it took.
And the fire within him, quiet for now, waited with him.