They left the village at a hurried pace, boots crunching over gravel and frost. Darian glanced back once—too many times—and every time, he swore he caught a flicker of the hooded man's cloak between stalls or alleyways.
The hills gave way to forest, the canopy swallowing the road in shifting green shadows. Serenya didn't slow until the village roofs had vanished from sight. Even then, her hand remained near the hilt of her blade, knuckles white.
"He followed us," Darian said quietly.
"I know." Serenya's voice was clipped, eyes scanning the treeline. "Keep moving."
The forest pressed close around them, branches twisting overhead. Every rustle in the underbrush made Darian's skin crawl. He couldn't stop picturing the man's faint smile, the promise in his gaze.
Then—footsteps. Behind them.
Serenya spun, blade half-drawn, as the hooded figure stepped into the open road. He made no attempt to hide now. His cloak parted just enough to reveal the glint of steel at his belt.
"Travelers," the man said smoothly, voice low and confident. "Leaving so soon? I was hoping for a word."
Serenya raised her sword fully. "Name yourself."
The man only smiled. "Names are dangerous things. But if it eases your fear, call me Corvus." His gaze shifted to Darian. "And you must be the boy who carries Rowan's burden."
Darian's heart stopped. He hadn't spoken the knight's name aloud since the forest. "How do you know about—?"
Corvus lifted a hand, silencing him. "The kingdom hunts you, boy. But not all who hunt mean harm. Some seek… correction. Guidance. Perhaps even salvation."
"Salvation?" Serenya's voice dripped with venom. "You mean chains."
Corvus's eyes glinted. "Chains can bind monsters before they wake."
The insult burned hotter than the shade-fire. Darian clenched his fists, heat prickling at his skin. He hadn't told this stranger about the fire, but somehow—he knew.
Serenya stepped forward. "You've spoken enough. Move aside."
But Corvus didn't move. Instead, he drew back his cloak, revealing a curved dagger, its edge etched with strange, smoking runes.
Darian's stomach turned. Whatever that blade was, it wasn't meant for simple men.
Corvus's smile thinned. "If you won't come freely, the king will accept you broken."
And then he lunged.
---
The forest erupted into chaos. Serenya met him head-on, steel clashing against the runed blade with a hiss like water on fire. Sparks flew. Darian stumbled back, heart hammering.
He should run. He wanted to run. But as he watched Serenya strain against Corvus's strikes, a fierce instinct rooted him to the ground. She couldn't hold him alone.
"Darian—GO!" she shouted between blows.
But instead, he reached for that burning place inside, the place he had tried so hard to deny. Heat surged into his palms, uncontrolled, wild. He thrust out his hands.
Flame roared into the air. Not a candle's flicker, but a wall of fire that split the road in two. The trees hissed, leaves curling from the sudden blaze. Corvus leapt back, cloak smoking, eyes flashing with something sharper than anger—recognition.
"So it's true," he breathed. "The boy carries the spark."
Darian's knees buckled. The fire died as quickly as it had come, leaving only smoke and blackened earth. He collapsed to one hand, gasping for air. His whole body trembled.
Serenya dragged him upright, eyes blazing—not with anger, but with fear. "You fool. You'll burn yourself hollow."
Corvus tilted his head, watching them like a hawk. "The spark consumes as easily as it protects. If you think the boy can survive what's coming, you're more naïve than Rowan ever was."
He stepped back into the shadows of the trees. "But no matter. There are others hunting you. I'll let them soften you before I strike again."
And with that, he vanished, his laughter echoing through the forest.
---
They staggered onward, the road stretching endless before them. Serenya kept a firm grip on Darian's arm, half-dragging him as his strength faltered.
Finally, when the trees thinned and a stream glittered nearby, she pulled him to the bank. "Sit."
He sank down, trembling. His palms were raw, skin scorched where the fire had erupted. He stared at them, horrified. "What's happening to me?"
Serenya knelt in front of him, her expression grave. "You're awakening."
"Awakening what?" His voice cracked. "That man—Corvus—he knew. He called it a spark. What does that mean?"
For the first time since Rowan's death, Serenya hesitated. Her walls cracked, just enough for Darian to glimpse the weight behind her eyes.
"The letter Rowan gave you," she said slowly, "is more than words. It carries proof of what you are. Proof the kingdom buried long ago. If the wrong hands open it, you won't live to see another dawn."
Darian shook his head. "But I don't want any of this. I never asked—"
"No one asks for fire," she cut in sharply. Then softer, almost bitter: "But it burns all the same."
They sat in silence, the stream's murmur the only sound. Darian pressed his burned palms into the cool grass, trying to ground himself, trying not to scream.
Finally, Serenya stood, her face hardened again. "We move at dusk. Corvus won't be the last."
Darian looked up at her, fear twisting into something else. Determination. He had no choice but to carry the letter, no choice but to keep running. But maybe—just maybe—the fire inside him wasn't only a curse.
---
As night fell, they walked on beneath a bruised sky. Behind them, unseen, another set of footsteps trailed softly in the dark.