The forest feels wrong after the ridge.
Not loud wrong — not the kind that snarls or chases.This is the quiet wrong, the kind that watches. The kind that waits for you to realize you're already in its mouth.
Branches scrape overhead like whispered warnings. My pulse hasn't settled since the flare — since the shape made of fire rose out of the fractured stone and looked at me as though he knew my name.
As though he was Kael.
But Kael is dead.Has been for two years.And I buried the version of myself who cared enough to grieve.
So why does every breath feel like the world is about to split open again?
I steady myself against a tree and drag in air that tastes like pine and old magic.The Flame under my skin hasn't calmed. It flickers against my ribs like a trapped bird, frantic and pleading.
"No," I whisper, pressing a hand to my chest. "Not now."
It pushes harder — a burst of heat crawling up my throat.A pulse like knuckles against a locked door.
It wants out.It wants something.
Instinctively, my mind reaches toward the bond I swore was dead, the one I've pretended not to feel for years. And for the briefest heartbeat, something answers.
A flicker.A breath.A presence I once knew like my own heartbeat catching on the edge of existence.
My knees nearly buckle.
"Kael?"
The name leaves me before I can stop it — raw, cracked open, a wound speaking. The forest doesn't answer, but the Flame flares in recognition, as if the sound of his name pulls at something deep, something buried.
It's impossible.It's reckless.It's—
The bushes to my left rustle.
My knives are in my hands before thought catches up. Shadows coil, shifting, but the air feels… not hostile. Not like the creatures. This is different. Subtle. Familiar in a way I can't place.
"Who's there?" My voice is steadier than I feel.
Something steps into the clearing.Not a person.Not a creature.
A flicker of light — pale gold, drifting like a slow exhale. It weaves through the trees until it hovers a few feet from me.
I tense, blades lifted.
The light swirls, gathering in on itself until a small orb hangs in the air.A soft chime echoes — delicate, almost curious.
"What in the realms are you?"
It pulses, and for a moment, the world around me… shifts. I smell smoke and roses. I hear the clang of steel and the whisper of a voice calling my name from far away — a voice I know too well.
I stumble backward.
"No. Stop."But the orb follows.
Another pulse.This one stronger.It pushes against the edges of my mind like a memory trying to force its way in.
Suddenly I'm on the ridge again — knees in the dirt, the air thick with smoke. Kael lies beside me, barely breathing, my hands covered in blood and flame.
A sob builds in my throat.I bite it down so hard I taste iron.
"I said stop."My voice cracks.
The orb dims, as if sensing the break in me — then floats back, drifting toward the forest path. It pulses once, brightly, then glides forward again.
It wants me to follow.
Of course it does.
Every instinct screams to turn away, to walk back to the safe, quiet life I pretended to build. But the Flame pulses sharply — a reprimand. A reminder.
Whatever happened on the ridge wasn't random. And this… light, this memory-orb, this thing… is tied to it.
And tied to him.
I curse under my breath and take a step after it.
The forest shifts as I follow — trees bending subtly, the air buzzing as if I'm walking through invisible curtains of energy. My senses stretch thin. I feel watched. Measured. Not by a person, but by the world itself.
After what feels like an hour, the orb drifts into a clearing — one I recognize with a cold drop of dread.
The same place where Kael and I trained together in secret.Where he taught me to track by sound.Where I laughed — really laughed — for the first time in my life.
The Flame in my chest softens, warming instead of burning.
The orb halts at the center.A pulse.Another memory stirs.
Kael standing behind me, hands on my hips, adjusting my stance.His breath warm against my ear as he whispered,"You're holding back, Nyra. Stop pretending you're weaker than you are."
My throat tightens.
I drop to a crouch, fingers digging into the dirt just to stay grounded.
"Why are you showing me this?" I whisper.
The orb flickers.Then shatters.
Not violently — but like a soap bubble touched by sunlight, dissolving into a thousand tiny sparks that drift upward and vanish into the canopy.
And just like that — I'm alone again.
But something has changed.
My mark throbs.The bond stirs.And deep inside the Flame… something unfurls like a wing stretching after years of stillness.
I wrap my arms around myself and stare at the empty clearing.
If these visions continue, they'll tear me apart.If they stop, they'll leave me empty.
The worst part?I'm not sure which terrifies me more.