CHAPTER 14

The camp pulsed with quiet dread.

After the scout’s warning, everything had shifted. There was no more laughter by the fire, no more careless steps or wandering conversations. Every rogue seemed to carry tension on their shoulders like cloaks of lead, sharpening blades and laying traps with grim determination.

And yet Aria couldn't stop thinking about Kael’s words.

"I protect what’s mine."

But what did that mean, really?

She wasn’t sure whether to be flattered, furious, or afraid.

She hadn’t seen him since the war meeting broke, and somehow that made it worse. His absence dragged behind her like a storm cloud, humming in her ears and tugging at her skin, waiting to break.

She needed distraction.

So when Nessa tugged on her hand that afternoon and whispered, “I have something! Come!” Aria followed.

They ducked into her tent, the fabric fluttering like breath around them.

“Look!” Nessa held up a crumpled slip of parchment, delicate and yellowed with age. Her face glowed with excitement, but her voice was reverent, as if they were standing in a chapel.

“I found it tucked inside your cloak pocket. The one Maela repaired after your first trial.”

Aria stared at the note, her mouth suddenly dry.

Nessa placed it carefully in her palm. “It has your name on it.”

Aria’s hands trembled.

The parchment was brittle, the ink faded in places, but she recognized the handwriting immediately. Loops like wind-carved branches. Firm, no hesitation.

Aria.

She sank slowly onto the edge of her cot, heart pounding in her throat as she unfolded the letter.

The world narrowed to the fragile paper in her hands.

My darling Aria,

If you’re reading this, then I’m likely dead.

And that thought alone has broken more of me than war ever could.

I have so little time, and even less certainty. But this much I know:

You were never meant to grow up in the shadows.

You are wind and fire. You are moonlight wrapped in defiance.

And you will be hunted for it.

Trust only the wind and the fire. They will remember me. They will remember you.

Kael may forget. He was just a boy when we said goodbye. But he is not lost. Just... burdened.

My Aria…

Forgive me.

Live wild. Live true.

And never let them chain your heart.

Alina.

The words blurred.

Aria didn’t realize she was crying until the ink bled beneath her thumb, smudging her mother’s name.

Alina.

Even seeing it felt like a wound cracking open.

The pain was sharp and immediate, a rupture of every wall she'd built around her grief. Her breath came shallow. The tent walls pressed in. She pressed her fingers to her lips, like it might keep the sob from escaping.

But it didn’t.

A soft, shattered sound slipped out of her, part pain, part longing, part fury.

“She knew,” she whispered. “She knew they’d come for me.”

Nessa sat beside her quietly, curling into her side. She didn’t speak. She didn’t need to. Her small hand rested over Aria’s heart, grounding her.

“She was trying to protect me,” Aria said through clenched teeth. “All this time… and no one told me.”

Nessa looked up. “Do you think Maela knew?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. She must’ve at least seen the letter.”

Aria gripped it tightly, then loosened her fingers before the paper tore.

The words haunted her.

Kael may forget. He was just a boy.

He knew her?

Suddenly her memory snapped backKael’s fevered whisper in the tent weeks ago:

“Forgive me. I knew your mother.”

It hadn’t been a dream.

It hadn’t been meaningless.

Her skin went cold despite the heat outside. Wind brushed the edge of the tent flap, as if responding to her mother’s letter. A breeze that slipped in, coiling around her legs and lifting the edge of the parchment like fingers reaching for a farewell.

“Trust the wind and the fire,” she murmured.

The candle on her table flickered wildly, flame dancing toward her like a breath.

Goosebumps rippled down her arms.

She wasn’t alone.

The sun was dipping low by the time she stepped out of the tent.

Her legs were shaky, her chest still raw, but she couldn’t sit in grief forever. The camp was too fragile. She was too fragile.

She needed air.

She wandered through the trees behind the training ring, letting the woods soothe her. She didn’t go far. Just enough to feel the earth again. The quiet again.

And then she heard him.

Footsteps. Heavy. Familiar.

Kael.

She didn’t turn.

But he didn’t need an invitation.

He stepped beside her, his presence like thunder before a storm.

“I heard you screamed earlier,” he said quietly.

Aria still didn’t look at him. “I got a letter.”

He was silent for a beat. “From who?”

“My mother.”

His breath caught audibly. She turned then, slowly.

The sunset painted gold across his cheekbones, but his eyes were unreadable.

“She said you knew her,” Aria said softly. “That you were just a boy when she left.”

His jaw tightened. He looked away, down the path, anywhere but at her.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t think you needed more weight.”

“You thought wrong.”

He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I was young, Aria. She was a warrior. A spy. A rebel. She didn’t belong to anyone, but she left fingerprints on everything.”

“You loved her.”

Kael’s throat bobbed. “No. I worshipped her. There’s a difference.”

Aria’s hands clenched at her sides. “She said you might forget. But you didn’t, did you?”

He looked at her then, and something inside him cracked wide open.

“No,” he said. “I never did.”

For a moment, the forest fell completely still.

Just them. The letter. The ghosts between their words.

Then slowly, without thinking, she reached out, her fingers brushing his hand.

His skin was warm, rough with callouses. He didn’t flinch.

But as soon as they touched,

A searing flash exploded behind her eyes.

She staggered.

Kael grabbed her arms, steadying her, but the vision had already swallowed her.

She saw a boy.

Small. Scraped knees. Mud-stained shirt.

Sitting at the edge of a river, throwing stones.

Beside him stood a great wolf, silver eyes glowing like starlight, fur the color of her mother’s hair.

The boy spoke softly to the wolf, voice thick with grief. “She said I had to be strong. That war needs survivors more than it needs heroes.”

The wolf licked his cheek.

The boy buried his face into her fur.

And the wind whispered: “You are not alone.”

Aria gasped as the vision ripped away.

She stumbled back, panting, her hand dropping from Kael’s.

He stared at her, wide-eyed. “What did you see?”

“You,” she whispered. “And… her.”

He didn’t answer.

Didn’t have to.

She knew the truth now.

Knew it in her bones.

He hadn’t just known her mother.

He’d been shaped by her.

And now… Aria was becoming the echo of everything Alina had left behind.

Somewhere beyond the trees, a howl broke the stillness. Long. Low. Not rogue.

Not friendly.

Kael’s head snapped toward the sound. “That was a scout’s warning.”

Aria's eyes burned. “Then it’s starting.”

Kael looked at her, face unreadable.

“Tomorrow,” he said, voice like stone, “you face your final trial.”

She nodded once.

Whatever waited on the other side…truth, fire, or war, she would meet it head on.

Because she was done running.

And the wind?

The wind remembered her name.

Aria didn’t sleep.

Even as the camp grew quiet and the night pressed thick against the canvas walls of her tent, she lay awake, heart thrumming, her mother’s letter clutched to her chest like a second heartbeat.

The image of Kael as a child haunted her.

The silver-eyed wolf. The sorrow in his small hands. Her mother’s presence, even then. Why hadn’t anyone told her their pasts were so deeply entwined? How could Kael carry that memory so silently, while standing across from her every day as if none of it mattered?

She rolled onto her side, eyes burning, the letter crinkling beneath her palm.

“You are wind and fire.”

Was that why she never truly felt like she belonged anywhere? Because something ancient and wild lived inside her? Something no pack, rogue or noble could claim?

A sudden knock jolted her upright.

Not a knock. A ripple in the flap of her tent.

Then Kael’s voice, low and gravel-edged, came through the fabric.

“Can I come in?”

She hesitated, the memory of his last words still echoing: “Tomorrow, you face your final trial.”

But something in his tone now… softer, uncertain… pulled her to answer.

“Yes.”

He stepped in like a storm holding itself together.

His eyes landed on her immediately, dark, haunted, searching. And gods, he looked tired. Tired in a way that went beyond the physical, like the bones beneath his skin were weary of carrying centuries of silence.

Neither of them spoke for a long time.

Aria just stared at him, and Kael… he stared at the letter in her hand.

“That was her handwriting,” he said quietly. “She used to write on bark when there wasn’t paper. I remember watching her fold little messages like that and stuff them into the trees.”

Aria’s throat clenched. “You didn’t forget her.”

He gave a bitter smile. “No. I tried. But she lived like wildfire. The kind that marks you even after the flames are gone.”

Aria felt a lump rise in her chest.

“And me?” she asked, voice breaking. “Am I a shadow of her too?”

Kael stepped forward slowly, then knelt in front of her.

“No,” he said. “You are her legacy. And that terrifies me.”

Aria blinked. “Why?”

“Because I already lost her.” His voice cracked. “And losing you would be the same… but worse.”

She stared at him, eyes stinging.

The air between them vibrated with something unspoken, trembling on the edge of combustion. She could feel the weight of his gaze like a hand on her skin, scorching and gentle all at once.

“Do you want to lose me, Kael?” she whispered.

His hand twitched.

“No,” he said. “But I also don’t know how to hold you without burning us both.”

Her breath caught.

He looked at her like she was made of every answer he never deserved. And she looked at him like he was the only storm that ever made her feel alive.

Slowly, Aria reached out and touched his cheek.

Kael didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

And then he leaned into her touch like it was the first kind thing he’d felt in years.

“Do you think she sent me to you?” Aria asked. “My mother?”

“I think,” he said, “that fate’s too cruel for that. But maybe… maybe the fire inside you is hers. And maybe mine was always meant to find it again.”

Aria’s heart shattered and healed all at once.

And before either of them could second-guess it, she leaned forward, brushing her lips softly against his.

It wasn’t a kiss that claimed or demanded. It was a question.

A memory.

A breath.

Kael didn’t respond immediately.

But then, gods his hands were in her hair, his mouth crashing into hers like a dam breaking. The heat between them surged, raw and unrestrained, the kind of connection born not of lust, but of longing years of it, grief-wrapped and smoldering.

He kissed her like he was still trying to figure out if she was real.

Like maybe he’d dreamt her every night since her mother left.

But Aria kissed him back with fire in her blood, her hands clutching his shirt, anchoring herself to the storm.

They didn’t speak as they pulled apart.

Didn’t need to.

Their foreheads rested together, breaths mingling in the quiet.

It wasn’t love yet. It wasn’t trust. But it was something molten and dangerous, and neither of them turned from it.

Kael’s voice was rough as he finally whispered, “You should sleep.”

Aria smiled faintly, dizzy and raw. “Not sure I can.”

He brushed her cheek. “Then rest. You’ll need every ounce of strength for tomorrow.”

She nodded, heart still pounding.

Kael stood and lingered by the flap for a moment, as if deciding whether to stay or leave.

“Kael?”

He turned.

She met his eyes, steady this time. “I’m not her. But I’m not afraid of fire.”

His mouth twitched, half-smile, half-sorrow. “Then burn with me, Aria.”

And then he was gone.

The morning came too fast.

Maela was already at her tent before the sun rose, armed with a bundle of herbs and a hard look.

“Today’s trial will gut you if you’re not prepared,” she said without preamble.

Aria dressed in silence, her limbs still buzzing from last night’s heat. But her heart was focused. Steeled.

“Will it be like the others?” she asked.

Maela paused. “No. This one is different. This trial isn’t about your strength or your strategy. It’s about what you carry.”

Aria met her gaze. “Pain?”

Maela nodded. “And guilt. And memories. The elder you’ll face, Elder Thane was one of your mother’s old allies. He sees through bone. And he will drag what’s inside you into the open.”

Aria’s stomach coiled, but she didn’t flinch.

Let it come.

They gathered in a quiet glade not far from the main camp.

A circle of stones marked the sacred ground. Torches flickered, even though the sky was already light.

Elder Thane stood at the center, a gaunt, hawk-eyed man whose aura felt more spirit than flesh. His hair was long and silver, his robes threaded with old runes Aria couldn’t read.

Kael stood beside him, arms crossed, unreadable.

Aria stepped forward.

Thane studied her. “You come willingly to the fire?”

“I do.”

“Then kneel.”

She did.

Thane raised one hand. “Close your eyes, Silverborn.”

The world fell away.

The first thing she saw was blood.

Dripping from fingers, her father’s fingers.

He stood before her, shaking, covered in crimson, eyes hollow. “I did it to protect you,” he said. “They wouldn’t stop. I had no choice.”

She tried to move toward him, but her feet were rooted.

And then Kael appeared, young, no older than ten. Bruised and furious, staring at her father like he was a monster.

“You killed them,” child-Kael whispered. “You killed my family.”

“No,” Aria whispered. “That’s not…”

But the image shifted.

Now she saw herself… older, eyes burning, standing over Nessa’s lifeless body, her hands covered in flame. Maela screaming… The camp burning…

“This is who you are,” a voice hissed. “A weapon. A curse.”

“No!” she sobbed. “No, I didn’t…”

Then a woman stepped from the smoke.

Her mother.

Crying.

Scroll in hand.

“I tried to protect you,” Alina whispered. “But fate has sharp teeth.”

Aria reached for her, but she vanished like smoke.

And then darkness.

Suffocating, endless darkness.

Until…

A flicker of silver.

The she-wolf. Her spirit.

“You are Silverborn,” it said. “Daughter of wind. Heir to fire.”

“What does that mean?” Aria gasped. “Please… tell me.”

“You will either break the world… or remake it.”

Aria woke with a scream.

Dirt and sweat clung to her skin, her hands still trembling from the pain of it. She was on the ground, curled in Maela’s arms. The camp watched from a distance, their faces pale.

Elder Thane stood over her, solemn.

“She is marked by the prophecy,” he said aloud.

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

Kael didn’t move. His eyes were on her, wild, shaken, but steady.

Aria sat up slowly.

Every eye was on her now.

And for the first time, she didn’t want to run.

She was done hiding.

She was Silverborn.

And her story was only just beginning.

Kael approached as the crowd dispersed, crouched beside her, and whispered, “You passed.”

But his eyes were distant. Guarded.

“Now the real battle begins.”