CHAPTER 11

The camp was quiet. Too quiet.

Not the soft lull of sleep, but the kind of hush that clung to the skin, pressing in from all sides. Aria lay in her cot, limbs heavy with exhaustion, heart still tangled in the memory of Kael’s eyes. Stormy, distant, impossibly close. His words circled her mind like a curse.

“Then walk in the light.”

“It’ll burn me.”

She hadn’t cried. Not when he walked away. Not when her legs gave out the second he vanished into the dark. Not even when Maela found her kneeling near the firepit hours later, arms wrapped around herself like they could keep the aching out.

But now, in the privacy of her tent, as the moon slid across the sky and the wind whispered through the canvas, Aria shook.

Not from fear.

From something deeper. A knowing she couldn’t name. A hunger that was no longer just her own.

She closed her eyes.

Sleep didn’t take her gently.

The forest in her dream was burning.

Flames crackled through the trees, painting the night in furious orange and angry red. Smoke coiled like living things, wrapping around her ankles, slithering up her back.

In the heart of the blaze stood a woman.

Her mother.

Alina.

But not the fierce, untouchable woman of Aria’s childhood memories. No, this woman was crumpled to her knees, face streaked with ash and grief. She held a rolled scroll in her hands like it might break if she breathed too hard.

Tears cut clean lines down her cheeks.

“I tried,” Alina whispered, rocking slightly. “I tried to protect you, Aria. Goddess forgive me… I tried.”

“Protect me from what?” Aria called, stepping forward through the heat, the fire licking at her heels but not consuming her.

Her mother didn’t answer.

The ground trembled.

And then… the wolf appeared.

The white wolf, its coat gleaming like moonlight. Silver eyes locked on Aria’s, and the world fell away.

It stepped closer, moving without sound. Without fear.

Aria dropped to her knees.

“Please,” she whispered. “Tell me what I am. Tell me why I keep seeing her. Why do I feel like I’m splitting in half.”

The wolf blinked once.

Then, in a voice that was not a voice, it said:

“You are Silverborn.”

The flames flared. Aria felt her bones crack like ice under pressure.

“Silverborn?” she echoed. “What does that mean? Why me?”

The wolf tilted its head. And when it spoke again, the dream fractured.

“Before the fire chooses you… it burns away what you love most.”

Aria screamed.

She sat bolt upright in her cot, the sound tearing from her throat raw and ragged. Her body was drenched in sweat. Her hands trembled violently.

She couldn’t breathe.

Not properly. Not fully.

The air felt like glass in her lungs.

The tent flap burst open.

“Aria!” Corin’s voice cut through the panic.

He was beside her in seconds, kneeling at the edge of the bed, hands held out like he wanted to touch her but didn’t dare. His eyes were wide with worry, jaw tight with restraint.

“I’m here,” he said softly. “You’re safe.”

She shook her head. “No, I saw her. My mother. She was crying there was fire and a scroll and…”

“Shhh,” he whispered. “Breathe first. Talk after.”

Aria clutched the blanket over her chest like a lifeline, sucking in broken breaths.

Corin reached for a cup of water on her nightstand, gently guiding it to her lips. She drank without thinking, the coolness grounding her.

It took a few moments before she could speak again.

“I keep dreaming of her,” she murmured. “But this time… it was different. She wasn’t strong. She looked like she was giving up.”

Corin sat back, his brows drawn low. “What did she say?”

“She tried to protect me. And there was this scroll in her hands… burnt, like it was old. And then the white wolf came again.”

Corin froze. “The same one from before?”

She nodded.

“It spoke to me,” she whispered.

His gaze sharpened. “What did it say?”

Aria hesitated. “It said I’m Silverborn.”

Something passed through Corin’s face, recognition… and fear.

“My mother used to tell stories,” he said slowly, voice barely above a whisper. “Of wolves born with silver fire in their blood. Wolves who carried both destruction and salvation in their bones.”

Aria stared at him.

“People used to think she was mad,” he added. “But she believed it. Said one would come in a time of great reckoning.”

Aria’s mouth went dry. “Did she say what would happen when they did?”

“No.” His throat bobbed. “Just that they’d be tested. Over and over. Until either they burned… or changed the world.”

Aria pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders.

“I don’t want to be a symbol,” she whispered. “I don’t want to be special. I just want to survive.”

Corin’s voice softened. “Maybe being Silverborn isn’t about being special. Maybe it’s about enduring what others can’t.”

She met his gaze.

And for a moment, it helped. The panic ebbed, the fear dulled.

But only for a moment.

Because just then, Kael pushed open the tent flap.

His presence sucked all the air from the room.

Corin stood, posture stiffening. “She just had a vision. I’m staying.”

Kael’s eyes were steel. “I don’t care what she saw. She needs to be ready.”

“For what?” Aria asked, voice dry, throat still raw.

Kael’s gaze locked on hers, fire flickering in the depth of his storm-colored eyes.

“The third trial,” he said.

Aria’s stomach dropped.

“What kind of trial?”

His jaw tightened. “One you face alone.”

Corin stepped forward. “She’s barely slept. You want to throw her into some mystic test while she’s falling apart?”

“It’s not up to me,” Kael said. “The Elders demanded it. The trial begins in two nights.”

Aria stood, legs unsteady, but spine straight.

“If I fail?” she asked.

Kael looked at her like she was the moon and the dagger both.

“Then they’ll brand you as unstable. Dangerous. A threat to the entire camp.”

She felt Corin’s anger beside her, the way his hand twitched, aching to protect her.

But it was Kael’s next words that made her knees weaken.

“Aria…” His voice cracked. “They’ll exile you.”

.

.

.

Two nights.

That was all the time she had before everything would be decided again.

Before the fire would ask more of her.

Before the camp would decide if she was worth trusting… or if she was a threat.

Aria stood by the river just after dawn, her bare feet sunk in wet sand, the hem of her cloak kissed by mist. A sharp breeze combed through the trees, and the water before her moved like liquid glass, reflecting a girl she barely recognized.

She looked older than she had yesterday.

Tired.

Too tired.

Not in the way a body wears fatigue, but in the way a soul wears pain that hasn’t been named.

The trial. The word had hollowed out her chest.

Not because she feared failing. But because deep down, she feared the camp wanted her to.

She picked up a stone and threw it into the river. It skipped twice before sinking.

A soft footfall behind her broke the silence.

Corin.

“You left before I could stop you,” he said gently, arms crossed, still wearing the faded leather from last night. His eyes held shadows too.

“I needed to breathe,” Aria replied.

“Funny,” he said, stepping beside her. “You look like you’re drowning.”

She turned her head, lips twitching in dry amusement. “I thought you were the optimistic one.”

He shrugged. “Only when you’re not falling apart.”

Aria opened her mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come.

So she did something she hadn’t done in days.

She leaned against him, just a little. Not fully. Not all the way. But enough to feel the heat of someone standing beside her. Enough to remember she wasn’t alone.

Corin didn’t move.

He just stood there, shoulder to shoulder with her, letting the quiet settle between them.

“You’re stronger than you think,” he said after a while. “But I’m not gonna lie, I’m scared.”

She glanced at him. “Of what?”

He hesitated. “Of what you might have to give up to survive.”

Her throat closed.

She didn't ask what he meant. She already knew.

Later that morning, Aria made her way back into camp and found Maela kneeling beside the cooking fire, slicing dried roots into a steaming pot. Nessa was nearby, braiding one of the elder women’s hair while humming a song that had no tune but plenty of joy.

Aria paused.

This… was life. The kind no one talked about in stories. The kind worth protecting.

“Stop staring and sit,” Maela muttered without looking up.

Aria blinked. “How did you….?”

“Your footsteps drag when you overthink.”

She obeyed, sitting cross-legged near the fire, the heat soothing her hands.

Maela passed her a wooden bowl of broth. It was thick, savory, and somehow comforting despite the sharp root tang.

“I don’t think they want me to survive the third trial,” Aria admitted softly.

Maela finally looked up.

Her face was all sharp lines and wild hair, but her eyes… gods, her eyes held years Aria couldn’t begin to imagine.

“They don’t know what they want,” Maela said. “Fear makes cowards the boldest. But trials don’t measure what the camp wants. They measure what you are.”

“And what if I don’t know what I am?”

“Then you better find out before the moon rises,” Maela said, wiping her hands on her apron.

Aria stirred the soup, watching herbs swirl in the steam. “You were a warrior once, weren’t you?”

“I still am.”

Aria met her gaze. “What did you have to give up?”

Maela’s face softened, not into kindness, but into something more dangerous. Vulnerability.

“I gave up peace,” she whispered. “So you could one day have it.”

That night, a fire circle was lit in the center of the camp, not a celebration, but a tradition.

Before every trial, rogues gathered to offer something into the flames… an object that represented who they were before. Because the trials demanded truth, and the fire never lied.

Aria hadn’t wanted to come.

But when Nessa showed up with a tiny carved wolf in her palm and whispered, “I’m giving this so you won’t be alone in there,” Aria had no choice but to follow.

Rogues sat around the circle in hushed tones, the fire casting long shadows. Some cried quietly as they stepped forward. Some laughed like it didn’t matter. Others remained silent, just dropping old knives, bits of fur, even dried petals into the flames.

Aria waited.

And waited.

Until it was just her.

Kael stood near the edge of the gathering. Watching. Always watching.

Her heart thudded painfully as she stepped toward the fire.

In her hands was her mother’s old scarf, the one she’d worn tucked into her cloak that night Aria was taken away from Silverpine. Frayed at the edges. Still smelled faintly of lavender.

It was the last thing she had that belonged to Alina.

“Before the fire chooses you… it burns away what you love most.”

Aria hesitated.

Then she kissed the edge of the scarf and dropped it into the flames.

It caught immediately, a rush of silver-blue flame swallowing the fabric like it had been waiting for it.

The fire flared so high it made people gasp.

And then…

It whispered.

“Silverborn.”

The word hissed in the flames.

Kael straightened.

Maela gripped the edge of her chair.

Corin stepped forward, his mouth parted in disbelief.

And Aria…. Aria stared at the fire and knew that nothing would ever be the same again.

She didn’t sleep that night.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw flames.

Not wild. Not chaotic.

Controlled.

Obedient.

They bent to her will. They danced for her anger. They whispered her name in the smoke.

And somewhere, far off, the white wolf stood at the edge of the burning forest, watching her.

Not with fear.

Not with pity.

But with recognition.

Just before dawn, as the stars began to fade, Kael came to her tent.

He didn’t knock.

He stepped inside, and the weight of his silence filled the space like thunderclouds.

“I’m ready,” she said, voice hoarse.

“You think you are.”

She faced him, chin lifted. “Why are you here?”

Kael’s eyes were unreadable. “Because if I don’t tell you now, I might never get the chance.”

Aria’s heart stuttered. “Tell me what?”

“That this trial… it’s not like the others. It won’t test your strength. Or your loyalty. It’ll test your will to exist.”

She swallowed hard.

Kael stepped closer.

“There’s a part of you that’s already burning,” he said. “But this trial… it’ll ask you to burn everything.”

“I’ve already lost so much.”

“You haven’t lost yourself,” he said. “Not yet.”

She didn’t blink. “And if I do?”

Kael’s hand reached out, but he hesitated, then landed over her heart.

“If you do… I’ll find you.”

Her breath caught.

And then, softer, broken: “Why?”

His voice was the barest whisper.

“Because I couldn't save her. But maybe… I can save you.”