Inside the small wooden house, the warmth of the kitchen wrapped around Blackfire like a gentle embrace. She sat at the table beside Ronan, her posture still a little stiff, as if she wasn't used to chairs that didn't belong to a throne room. Clark stood by his mother, helping her arrange the table and carry the dishes.
Elara placed the plates down carefully, one by one.
"All set," she said with a confident smile. "I hope you like it. I know it's nothing compared to palace food, but… I truly hope you enjoy it."
Blackfire hesitated. Being the first to eat felt strange. Slowly, she picked up the utensils and cut into what looked like a piece of steak, served beside pasta and mashed potatoes. She lifted the fork toward her mouth—then stopped.
She noticed everyone was watching her.
Waiting.
Elara leaned in slightly, smiling, her voice almost a whisper.
"Go on, Blackfire. Try it," she said, nodding encouragingly.
All eyes were on her.
So she ate.
Her eyes closed instinctively. The sound of her chewing was the loudest thing in the house for a moment.
"…Delicious," Blackfire said after swallowing.Her eyes opened wide. "This is amazing. I've never eaten anything like this before."
Elara's hands trembled slightly as emotion filled her expression.
"Really?" she said, her voice bright. "I'm so happy you liked it!"
"Yes," Blackfire nodded. "It's wonderful."
Ronan chuckled, clearly pleased, and began serving himself.
"Well, if you approve," he said warmly, "then we can all start eating."
Clark and Elara pulled out their chairs and sat down. Clark took the seat beside Blackfire—and accidentally bumped his foot against hers under the table.
"Oh—! S-sorry," he said quickly, flustered.
"It's okay," Blackfire replied softly. "Don't worry."
Clark paused for a moment, glancing at her as if noticing every detail of her face for the first time. Then, as he served himself, Elara spoke again.
"So, Blackfire," she asked gently, "what were you doing in the forest with my son?"
"Huh?" Blackfire blinked. "Oh—nothing special. I was just taking a walk, and Clark and I happened to run into each other. That's all."
Her tone was steady. Firm. Too firm.
Clark glanced at her from the corner of his eye. He could tell she wasn't telling the whole truth—but he said nothing.
"Oh, well… that's a relief," Elara sighed. "I really don't like Clark wandering through that forest. It's dangerous. Lethal, even…"
"But what can we do?" Ronan added, speaking with his mouth full. "We've warned him plenty of times. He just doesn't listen."
"Ronan!" Elara scolded, cutting him off. "Mind your manners. We're hosting the Princess of Tamaran."
Blackfire ignored the awkward tension completely.
"Is it true that the forest is cursed?" she asked.
"Yes," Elara nodded. "There's a legend that it was cursed by a demon some years ago… maybe three or four—no, perhaps five years ago."
"That's our age," Clark said, trying to join in.
Elara smiled at him.
"Yes. Sometimes I forget you're only five years old, Clark."
Blackfire leaned forward slightly.
"Do demons really exist?" she asked.
The table fell silent for a moment.
Ronan finished chewing and wiped his mouth.
"We can't say for sure," he replied. "There are reports, stories… but no solid proof."
"Besides," Clark added confidently, "we don't need to be afraid. There are plenty of strong warriors out there."
Elara covered her face with her hand and laughed softly.
"You boys eat way too fast," she said, amused.
Everyone at the table laughed together.
After a moment, Ronan leaned back in his chair, thoughtful.
"You know," he began, "speaking of legends… there's another one. Older than the forest curse."
Blackfire looked up.
"The legendary Tamaranian warrior," Elara continued. "The one who appears every hundred years."
Clark's eyes lit up.
"They say that warrior is born with limitless power," he said excitedly. "Someone destined to change Tamaran forever."
Ronan nodded.
"Some people believe… that warrior is already among us."
The room grew quiet again.
Elara glanced at Blackfire, then quickly looked away.
"There were rumors," she admitted carefully. "Some even wondered if you might be…"
Blackfire shook her head immediately.
"No," she said firmly. "That's impossible."
Clark looked at her, surprised.
"The hundred years haven't passed yet," Blackfire continued. "And besides…" She lowered her gaze slightly. "I don't believe in that legend."
Silence lingered for a moment.
Then Elara smiled softly.
"Maybe that's alright," she said. "Legends don't define people. Choices do."
Blackfire looked around the table—the simple plates, the warm light, the gentle faces.
Blackfire rested her hands on the table, her expression calm but serious.
"The legend is very specific," she said. "The warrior is said to appear every one hundred years. Exactly one hundred. Not before. Not after."
Clark tilted his head.
"But… what if the legends got the timing wrong?" he asked.
She shook her head slowly.
"No," Blackfire replied. "Tamaranian records are precise. The last warrior appeared ninety-seven years ago."She lifted her gaze. "That means there are still three years left."
Ronan frowned slightly.
"And the power?" he asked. "They say the warrior is born with limitless energy."
Blackfire let out a quiet breath, almost a bitter smile forming.
"Then that alone proves it isn't me," she said. "I can barely control my own abilities."
Elara watched her closely.
"But sometimes," Elara said gently, "power doesn't show itself right away."
Blackfire's fingers tightened around her fork.
"That's another thing," she replied. "The legend says the warrior's power manifests naturally. Effortlessly."Her voice lowered. "I have to struggle for every spark."
Clark hesitated.
"Still… people talk," he said. "They say your aura is different."
Blackfire looked down at the table.
"Different doesn't mean special," she said quietly. "Sometimes it just means… wrong."
The room fell silent.
Ronan cleared his throat.
"Legends have a way of placing expectations on children," he said. "Heavy ones."
Blackfire looked up at him, surprised.
"They already expect me to be something I'm not," she said. "I won't let a story turn me into something else again."
Clark met her eyes.
"I think," he said carefully, "that even if the legend were real… it wouldn't matter."
She blinked.
"Why?" she asked.
He shrugged slightly.
"Because whoever that warrior is," he said, "they'd still be a person first."
Blackfire stared at him for a moment, then looked away, her cheeks faintly warm.
"…That's not how Tamaran usually thinks," she said.
Elara smiled softly.
"Maybe Tamaran needs to learn," she said.
Blackfire didn't respond right away.
But for the first time, the idea didn't sound impossible.