(Lián Xinyue's POV)
The courtyard still smells of smoke and iron. The last of the sunset bleeds across the training stones, painting the air in shades of dying gold. My palms are raw from the day's drills, my breath shallow, and yet I can't stop staring at the scorch marks left behind, each one a reminder of how close I came to losing control again.
The flames don't always obey. They whisper when I'm weak, coil when I'm afraid. Today they almost answered someone else's call.
Kaien's.
I glance up. He stands a few steps away, sword still sheathed, the last light catching in his hair, dark as ink, streaked faintly with crimson sheen from the Ember Court's banners. His expression is unreadable, as usual. But his eyes… they hold that same storm-gray intensity that always makes my heart forget itself.
"You hesitated again," he says finally. "If you had been on the battlefield, that pause would've killed you."
I bite back the retort forming on my tongue. I'm too tired to spar with words. "Then it's a good thing I'm not on the battlefield."
His lips twitch, not quite a smile. "You keep saying that, but your fire doesn't agree."
"I didn't ask for this fire," I whisper.
The silence that follows is heavy. The kind that makes the air feel thinner.
Kaien steps closer. Not enough to touch, but close enough that I can feel the faint warmth that always seems to follow him, not from his magic, but something else entirely. His voice softens. "You think I did?"
I look up sharply. He's watching me, that familiar wall in his gaze cracking just enough for me to glimpse something raw beneath, regret, maybe. Or something darker.
"What happened to you?" I ask before I can stop myself.
His jaw tightens. "Nothing worth remembering."
That's a lie. I can feel it in the way his magic shifts, subtle as a breath of wind, the faint scent of smoke curling through the air. His control is perfect, almost too perfect. Like someone who's learned to master pain instead of peace.
I take a step toward him before sense can stop me. "You train me to control my fire, but you don't even let yourself breathe. You think I don't see it?"
His gaze darkens. "Careful, Xinyue."
I should back away. Instead, I tilt my chin higher. "Or what? You'll lecture me again?"
For a heartbeat, neither of us moves. The space between us hums, charged and brittle. His breath brushes my cheek. The warmth rolling from his skin could melt stone.
Then, a whisper, distant and cold.
The Hollow.
It creeps through the edges of my mind, soft as silk, sharp as glass. My body stiffens. The torches flicker. The scent of ash deepens.
Kaien's eyes narrow instantly. "What is it?"
I can't speak. Shadows ripple at my feet, black and alive. The Hollow's voice slides like smoke through my skull, fire that consumes, or fire that saves? Which will you become, little heir?
My knees almost buckle. Kaien catches me before I hit the ground. His hands, steady and burning, anchor me to the present.
"Stay with me," he murmurs.
The words pull me back. The whisper fades, leaving a hollow ache in my chest. My breath shudders. "It's getting stronger."
His arms tighten around me for a heartbeat before he forces himself to let go. "Then we'll train harder."
I want to tell him I'm afraid. That the Hollow's voice sounds almost familiar now. But the words die when I meet his gaze, he looks at me like I'm something he refuses to lose.
"Tomorrow," he says. "At dawn."
He turns away before I can reply. But I swear, for just a moment, I see his hand tremble before he hides it in his cloak.
(Kaien Draven's POV)
The moon hangs low when I reach the tower. I should be asleep, but her voice won't leave my head. You think I did?
No, Xinyue. I didn't ask for mine either.
The flames inside me were forged, not born, twisted through ritual, forced to obey commands that broke the will of better men. I learned early that power only answers fear. And fear burns deeper than anything else.
I move to the balcony overlooking the lower courtyards. From here, I can see the faint outline of the training grounds, still scorched with her fire. Even the stones seem to remember her.
She's stronger than she knows. But strength like that draws eyes, and not all of them human.
I press a hand to the railing. The metal is cold. "You're watching her, aren't you?" I whisper into the night.
The wind answers, carrying the faint echo of the Hollow's laughter.
Of course it's watching. It's always watching her.
The rage flares before I can stop it. My control slips for a heartbeat, fire blooms in my palm, bright and savage. I let it burn until the pain steadies me again.
Then I see movement below.
Lián Xinyue. Standing alone in the courtyard, hair unbound, the light of her Emberborn companion circling her like a living flame. Her shoulders are tense, but her expression… softer than I've ever seen.
She's talking to it. Smiling.
It's the first time I've seen her look unguarded. The fire answers her not with destruction, but devotion.
Something inside me twists. I've spent years mastering control, pretending I'm untouched by the same hunger that destroyed others before me. But the truth is simpler. More dangerous.
I want her fire.
I want her defiance.
I want her to look at me the way she looks at that creature, like I'm not something to fear.
My hand tightens on the railing until the metal creaks. I can't afford this. Not with the Hollow stirring, not with the court already whispering.
But when she turns suddenly, when her eyes lift and meet mine through the moonlight, I know it's already too late.
Her lips part slightly, surprise flickering across her face. Then something else, something that feels like understanding.
For a moment, the distance between us disappears.
And in that silence, I realize what truly terrifies me.
It isn't the Hollow's power.
It's hers.