Smoke drifted above Vaelmoor like a wounded spirit, twisting into the sky in thick gray ribbons. Elara and Mira hid behind a low stone fence at the edge of the southern fields, both panting, both trembling. The shouts of Crown's Guard echoed across the village as steel clashed, doors slammed, children cried. Chaos had swallowed Vaelmoor whole.
"Elara—Elara, look at me," Mira whispered urgently, grabbing her face with shaking hands. "What was that? What happened?"
"I…I don't know." But she did. Or part of her did. The surge inside her had been unmistakable—hot, wild, ancient. Something she feared. Something she had locked away for years.
But this time, it hadn't stayed locked.
Mira's eyes were wide. "When the sky went red… that wasn't the flash from the houses. That was—Elara, that was *you*."
"Quiet," Elara hissed, pushing her friend's hands away. She huddled lower behind the stone. "Someone could hear you."
Mira swallowed but nodded, though fear still shone in her eyes. Not fear of the Crown's Guard.
Fear of Elara.
Elara's stomach twisted. "I didn't mean to," she whispered. "It just…happened."
Before Mira could respond, the ground trembled again—softer this time, like the fading echo of a distant drum. A pulse rippled through the air, brushing against Elara's skin like a cold breath. She gasped.
It wasn't hers.
Something—*someone*—else was still manifesting in the village.
"Stay here," Elara whispered, rising to her knees.
Mira's grip clamped onto her arm. "Absolutely not."
"I have to see—"
"No, you don't have to see anything! We need to run, Elara. Away from here. Away from the Guard. Away from—"
Another flare of crimson light exploded near the center of Vaelmoor, cutting Mira off. It lit the rooftops in bloody color, casting sharp shadows like grasping claws. Screams followed, louder this time.
This wasn't just a stray burst of magic.
This was a fight.
"Elara, please," Mira begged. "You can't go toward that."
Elara hesitated, torn in a dozen painful directions. She should run. She should hide. She should pretend none of this was happening.
But Elara's dreams—those relentless, haunting dreams—had never shown her fleeing. They showed her standing. Facing. Fighting.
And deep inside her chest, the same quiet voice that whispered through her nightmares stirred again.
*Go.*
She exhaled shakily. "I'm not going into the village. Just closer. Just enough to see who it is."
"Elara—"
"I have to know."
Mira stared at her, torn between terror and loyalty. She seemed to shrink for a moment—then nodded once, tightly. "Then I'm going with you."
Elara's heart clenched. "Mira—"
"Don't argue. If you're going to be stupid, I'm going to be stupid with you."
Despite everything, Elara almost smiled. Almost.
The two crept along the stone wall, crouching low as they moved around the edge of the fields toward a thicket of willows. From there, they could see the northern half of Vaelmoor—ruined rooftops, burning carts, soldiers searching.
And in the center of it all…
A figure.
A girl not much older than Elara, standing in the wreckage of a small house. Her hair whipped wildly around her pale face as red energy coiled around her like living fire. Her eyes glowed faintly—unnatural, fever-bright. She screamed, and the magic surged outward in a violent shockwave that shattered a stone trough and sent two Crown's Guard flying backward.
Mira clapped a hand over her mouth, muffling her gasp.
Elara felt a chill race down her spine.
"Who is she?" Mira whispered.
Elara shook her head. "I've never seen her before."
The girl unleashed another wave of magic—shakier, uncontrolled. The Guard scrambled, some rushing to subdue her, others shouting for reinforcements.
The girl didn't look trained. She didn't look like a solider. She looked… terrified.
Just like Elara had felt earlier.
"She's going to kill someone," Mira said.
"Or be killed," Elara murmured.
As if in answer, a tall Guard captain strode into the clearing, silver-embroidered cloak billowing behind him. He carried no sword—only a steel-bound staff etched with runes. The air warped around it.
A mage-breaker.
He lifted it and struck the ground.
A wave of blue force rippled outward, slamming into the girl. She was thrown back, her magic sputtering like a candle in rain.
"No!" Elara breathed.
The girl struggled to rise, but the captain advanced, pressing the staff toward her as it glowed brighter.
He meant to suppress her. To silence her power completely.
And a power like that—wild and newly awakened—could collapse under forced suppression. Could tear itself apart.
"Elara," Mira whispered urgently, "we can't do anything. We can't get involved. Please."
But Elara didn't hear her.
The girl screamed again, this time in agony, as the mage-breaker's magic wrapped around her like barbed chains.
Elara's heart hammered.
Every instinct screamed at her to run, to hide, to pretend this wasn't her problem. But the girl's cries dug into her like claws.
And the dreams—those terrible dreams—echoed again in her mind.
A tower. A voice calling her name. A world burning red.
No more running.
Elara suddenly stood.
"Elara!" Mira hissed.
But it was too late.
The Guard captain turned at the movement. His eyes narrowed. "You there! Stop!"
Elara froze, breath caught in her throat.
Mira yanked her down behind the willow trunk, whispering frantically, "Are you insane?!"
Elara shook, but didn't retreat. Her pulse pounded painfully in her ears. She peeked again.
The girl's magic flickered desperately, as if reaching for help she didn't have.
A memory flashed—Elara at ten years old, crying alone in a burning barn as her first spark almost killed her. The fear, the confusion, the pain.
No one had come then.
No one.
Elara clenched her fists.
"I have to help her."
Mira grabbed her shoulders. "You'll expose yourself!"
"I know."
"Elara, they'll take you. Or kill you. Or worse. You can't fight the Crown's Guard."
But Elara wasn't listening anymore.
She was staring at her hands.
The fire she had felt earlier—the one that had burst from her—was still inside her. Warm, restless, coiled like a storm behind her ribs. Waiting.
"All my life," Elara whispered, "I've been afraid of this."
Mira's voice broke. "And you should be."
Elara shook her head slowly.
"No. Not anymore."
She rose again, before Mira could stop her. This time she stepped fully from behind the trees.
The captain spotted her instantly. "You again! I said stop!"
But Elara didn't stop.
She walked forward, each step heavy, each breath trembling. The air around her shimmered faintly as heat began to bleed from her skin.
A murmur rippled through the other guards.
"Her hands—"
"Is that—?"
"Sir, look!"
Elara lifted her chin, though her insides felt like melting ice.
"Let her go," she said, voice barely steady.
The captain narrowed his eyes. His staff pulsed menacingly. "Step away, girl. This does not concern you."
"Yes," Elara said softly, "it does."
Her heart pounded.
Her blood burned.
Her fear tried to claw its way out of her throat.
But she stood anyway.
The captain raised the staff toward her. "Then you leave me no choice."
A blast of blue force tore through the air, streaking toward her.
Mira screamed.
Elara closed her eyes.
And the fire within her answered.
Heat erupted from her palms, instinctive and violent, meeting the blue force in midair. The collision exploded in a shockwave that rattled the entire clearing, sending guards stumbling.
The captain staggered backward, stunned.
Elara stared at her own hands.
They glowed.
Red. Bright. Alive.
Mira gasped. "Elara…"
Whispers spread through the guards like wildfire.
"The mark—"
"Is she the one?"
"The prophecy—"
Elara didn't hear them.
Because the girl in the rubble—eyes wide, magic flickering—was staring at her with desperate, aching hope.
Elara extended a hand toward her.
"I've got you."
For the first time, her voice felt right.
The fire surged again, roarin
g through her veins, rising to meet her call.
The guards braced.
The captain lifted his staff.
The girl reached for Elara's outstretched hand.
And Vaelmoor—quiet, gentle Vaelmoor—held its breath.
What comes next, a life changing act, don't miss, much love