Chapter 3 Ember’s POV:

The cold air bit my skin as we stepped out of the cave, the glow of its runes still burning faintly in the back of my mind.

The night stretched before us, dark and endless, the trees twisted into jagged silhouettes against the ash-gray sky. I hated how quiet it was. Silence used to mean safety, no footsteps, no voices, no crackle of fire where there shouldn’t be. Now it just made the questions louder, the ones I couldn’t ignore no matter how hard I tried.

The cuff on my wrist weighed heavier with every step, a cruel reminder of what I’d lost. I flexed my fingers, trying to summon even a flicker of warmth, but there was nothing.

Every time I’m reborn, I tell myself it’ll be different. That I’ll wake up stronger, more in control, less…lost.

This time was no different. I glanced down at my hands, pale and unscarred, as if they’d never held power. They didn’t feel like mine. None of this body did. It was like wearing a stranger’s skin, too new and unfamiliar.

“How many lives is enough?” I muttered the words slipping out before I could stop them.

He didn’t turn around, didn’t even glance back. Just kept walking, his broad shoulders cut through the shadows like a blade.

I hated how freaking quiet he was.

Hail Ronan Stormcrest.

The name came to me in whispers, scraps of memory gathered like ash on the wind. I’d heard it before I’d seen him, whispered by people who didn’t want to be overheard.

A bounty hunter, they said.

The kind who always gets what he’s after. But standing here, watching the way he moved, the whispers felt incomplete.

Hail wasn’t just a hunter; he was a soldier. Every step he took was deliberate, calculated, his body built like a weapon forged for battle.

He was tall and lean but powerful, and his dark hair was streaked with silver at the temples, a sign of stress more than age. A scar ran along his jawline, disappearing into the collar of his cloak. Beneath the cloak, he wore dark leather reinforced with metal plates at his shoulders and forearms. The blade at his hip wasn’t just for show, and neither was the smaller knife strapped to his thigh. A crossbow hung from his back, the bolts gleaming faintly even in the dim light.

He looked like someone who didn’t trust the world not to try and kill him.

I didn’t ask how he knew my name. Everyone knew it: Ember Aurelia Ashbourne, the last phoenix.

Names carried power, people said.

Mine carried expectation, fear, and a price tag big enough to make men like him willing to risk their lives to claim it.

But the way he’d said my name earlier, flat, clinical, without the awe or revulsion I’d come to expect… was different.

He hadn’t whispered it like it was something sacred or spat it like it was something cursed. He’d just said it. Like I was a job. And that was worse.

The wind shifted, carrying the faint scent of ash and something metallic, sharp. I stopped walking, my muscles tense instinctively.

“Do you smell that?” I asked, my voice low.

He froze, his hand going to his blade.

“Stay quiet,” he murmured.

The air around us felt heavier, like the forest itself was holding its breath. My pulse quickened, and I strained my ears, listening for something… anything.

Then I heard it.

A faint rustling, too deliberate to be the wind.

Before I could react, the shadows around us moved.

Figures emerged from the darkness, three of them, their faces hidden beneath masks, their weapons glinting in the moonlight.

“Shit it’s an ambush,” Hail said, his voice cold, sharp.

He drew his blade in one fluid motion, stepping in front of me.

My fire surged instinctively, but the damn cuff snuffed it out before it could even spark.

"Fuck!" I cursed under my breath, my hands curling into useless fists.

The first attacker lunged at Hail, their blade aiming for his chest.

He blocked it with ease, his movements fast and precise.

A second attacker circled around, swinging a staff at his back. He ducked, the blow missing by inches, and retaliated with a clean strike that sent the first attacker crumpling to the ground.

I watched, useless and furious, as he fought.

Every move he made was calculated and efficient, like he’d done this a thousand times before.

The third attacker turned their attention to me, their masked face unreadable.

They didn’t see a threat—just a stupid girl in chains.

Big mistake.

I ducked as they swung at me, grabbing a rock from the ground and slamming it into their temple.

They staggered, holding their head with blood dripping down, but before I could follow through, the damn cuff flared, and pain shot up my arm. I bit back a scream, the distraction costing me precious seconds.

Hail dispatched the second attacker just as the third lunged at me again.

His blade flashed, and the attacker fell, blood pouring out, their weapon clattering to the ground.

The forest went silent again, the only sound my ragged breathing and the faint hum of the cuff.

“You’re welcome,” Hail said, wiping the blood from his blade.

“Don’t,” I snapped, stepping back.

“I didn’t need your help.” His gaze flicked to the cuff on my wrist, and I hated the way he didn’t even bother to argue.

“You should’ve expected this,” I said, my voice bitter. “A phoenix isn’t exactly subtle.”

“They weren’t here for you,” he said, his tone too calm.

I frowned.

“What?”

He knelt beside one of the bodies, pulling back the mask to reveal a symbol etched into the attacker’s neck, a mark I didn’t recognize.

“They weren’t hunting you,” he said, standing slowly. His gray eyes met mine, colder than before. “They were hunting me.”

For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The bodies of the attackers lay still in the dirt, their weapons gleaming faintly under the pale moonlight. The forest was too quiet now, like even the shadows were watching, waiting.

I folded my arms, glaring at him.

“So, care to explain why someone’s hunting you?”

Hail’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t answer right away. Instead, he knelt beside another body, his movements precise, practiced. He searched through their belongings with the cold efficiency of someone who’d done this too many times before.

When he finally spoke, his voice was calm, measured.

“It’s not your concern.”

I scoffed, stepping closer. 

"Not my concern? These people nearly killed me, and you think it’s not my concern?” His eyes flicked up to meet mine, and for the first time, I saw the faintest flicker of something in his expression.

Guilt.

“They weren’t here for you,” he said again, standing. “That should be enough.”

I took another step forward, close enough that I had to tilt my head to meet his gaze.

The scar on his jaw caught the light, making him look more carved from stone than flesh.

“You’re hiding something,” I said, my voice low.

His lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t deny it.

That, more than anything, made my blood boil.

“Let me guess,” I continued, my tone sharp.

“Your master’s don’t just want the phoenix, do they? They want you too. A nice little collection of broken things to use and discard.”

Something in his eyes shifted, a flicker of anger, quickly buried.

“You don’t know anything about me.”

I leaned closer, daring him to flinch.

“Then tell me I’m wrong.”

He didn’t move, didn’t even blink. His stillness was unnerving, like he was calculating the exact amount of force it would take to end this conversation.

“You are wrong,” he said finally, his voice cold as steel.

“Because I’m not broken. And I don’t need you to understand my choices.”

I laughed, the sound was bitter.

“Choices? You think you have choices? Look at you, Hail. You’re just as much a prisoner as I am.”

The space between us felt charged, like a storm building just beneath the surface. His gaze dropped to the cuff on my wrist.

“You might want to rethink that comparison.”

“Why?” I shot back. “Because you’re the one holding the leash?”

He didn’t answer, but his hand twitched toward the hilt of his blade. Not a threat, more like instinct. The reflex of someone who didn’t trust anyone, not even themselves.

I turned away, my frustration bubbling over as I crouched beside one of the bodies.

The mark on the attacker’s neck was intricate, a series of interlocking symbols that glowed faintly even in death.

“Do you know what this means?” I asked, brushing my fingers over the mark.

Hail’s voice came from behind me, low and tense.

“It means they were sent by someone who wants me dead.”

I looked over my shoulder at him, my brow furrowed.

“And that doesn’t strike you as a problem? Because it sure as hell seems like one to me.”

He stepped closer, his shadow falling over me.

“What do you want me to say, Ember? That I’m sorry they came after us. That I didn’t know this would happen? I’m not sorry, and I did know. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m the only thing keeping you alive right now.”

I stood, refusing to back down.

“And what happens when keeping me alive isn’t convenient anymore?”

For a moment, his mask slipped.

The weariness in his eyes was sharper than the blade at his side, and it made me hate him just a little less.

“I guess you’ll have to decide if you can trust me,” he said softly.

The wind shifted again, carrying the faintest hint of voices farther away but moving closer.

“They’ll send more,” he said, already turning toward the shadows.

“We need to move.”

“Move where?” I asked, following reluctantly.

“There’s a safehouse not far from here,” he said, his tone all business again.

“We’ll regroup there.”

I didn’t like the sound of that.

I didn’t like the sound of any of this.

But for now, I followed because no matter how much I hated it, he was right about one thing: I couldn’t survive this alone.

As we disappeared into the forest, the bodies of the attackers lay forgotten behind us. But their mark stayed burned into my memory, a warning I couldn’t ignore. Whoever had sent them wasn’t hunting the phoenix. They were hunting Hail. And if I were caught in the crossfire, I’d make damn sure I wasn’t the one who burned.