Marked by Fire

CHAPTER THREE – “Marked by Fire”

Rowan didn’t sleep.

All night, her shoulder burned. Not like a fever or a pulled muscle—this was deeper, sharper, like something was etching itself into her bones from the inside out.

She kicked off the too-soft Firestone Tower sheets and padded barefoot into the dorm bathroom. The mirror was too tall, the marble too cold, everything too unfamiliar. But none mattered the second she saw what had bloomed across her skin.

A mark.

Faint at first—then, as she stared, it glowed.

An intricate rune, shaped like a curled dragon with wings made of flame, was etched into her left shoulder. The lines pulsed, like veins filled with light instead of blood.

“No,” she whispered. “No no no.”

It was beautiful. Terrifying.

Alive.

She pulled on a hoodie to cover it, heart racing. Maybe she was dreaming. Maybe it was a side effect of the fire. Of Kai.

God, Kai.

His words from yesterday haunted her: Only one can awaken me. Or destroy me.

A knock shattered the silence.

Rowan turned as her dorm door creaked open.

A woman stood there—tall, cloaked in silver robes, with vines of glowing ink crawling up her hands like living tattoos.

“I am the Oracle,” the woman said. “You must come.”

Rowan blinked. “Now? It’s barely dawn—”

“You carry old fire, girl,” the Oracle said, eyes flashing with unsettling clarity. “And not all dragons want it alive.”

The walk through campus was quiet but eerie. Magical lanterns flickered as they passed. Statues of dragon ancestors turned their heads when Rowan walked by. She swore one even whispered her name.

The Oracle led her through the garden beyond the east wing—an overgrown maze of ivy and enchanted flora, called Whisperroot by the students. At the center, under a canopy of crimson leaves, stood a crystal gate.

With a wave of the Oracle’s hand, it shimmered open.

They stepped through.

Suddenly, Rowan was somewhere else—an ancient chamber lit by floating scrolls and glowing roots. The air smelled of parchment and ash. The walls pulsed like veins in a creature older than time.

“This is the Chamber of Flamekeepers,” the Oracle said. “Where prophecy waits.”

Rowan stared at the scrolls. Hundreds hovered in midair, some sealed in golden bands, others burned at the edges.

One drifted toward them, as if called.

The Oracle caught it mid-air and unraveled it slowly. “The mark has appeared. The Fireborn Heir has awakened. And the Dragonheart… has returned.”

Rowan swallowed. “So it’s real.”

“All prophecy is real,” the Oracle said. “The question is whether it ends in ruin or rebirth.”

Before Rowan could reply, a loud bang echoed through the chamber.

The Oracle stiffened. “They’ve found us.”

“Who—?”

A scream pierced the stillness.

Outside, chaos erupted.

Rowan ran, breath catching. As she burst from the gate, she saw students yelling and scattering across the courtyard. And in the center of the chaos—a boy with silver eyes and a dagger glowing red-hot, charging straight at her.

“You’re the ruin!” he shouted. “Not the heir! You’ll doom us all!”

Rowan stumbled backward, heart thundering. The boy raised his blade.

And then fire roared.

The dagger never touched her.

In mid-air, it melted—liquified into dripping red steel—as a wave of blazing heat cracked across the courtyard.

Kai stood behind her, arm raised, flames coiling from his fingertips.

“Touch her again,” he growled, voice like thunder wrapped in fire, “and I’ll melt your bones.”

The attacker dropped to his knees, sobbing from the heat.

Kai didn’t look at him. His eyes were only on Rowan. “You okay?”

She nodded shakily. “I think so.”

The Oracle appeared at her side. “It’s already begun,” she said grimly. “The prophecy has woken old enemies. Some fear her. Others… will want to own her.”

Rowan’s hands trembled. “Why? I don’t understand any of this.”

Kai looked at her. “Come with me.”

They left the Oracle’s grove through a hidden passage that wound through the cliffs behind Firestone Tower. Rowan followed silently, nerves buzzing with every step.

Eventually, they reached a narrow staircase carved into obsidian rock. At the top was a domed room filled with ancient scrolls, relics, and a glowing map of dragon territories past and present.

“This is the Archive,” Kai said. “Only dragon heirs are allowed up here.”

“And I’m not a dragon,” she said.

He turned to her. “You are something older.”

He led her to a sealed scroll, hovering in the center of the chamber, wrapped in threads of silver flame.

“This is the prophecy that named you.”

Rowan stared at it. “Can I read it?”

Kai nodded. “I think you have to.”

She reached out. The moment her fingers brushed the threads, the scroll unsealed—like it had been waiting for her.

Words glowed in the air:

“One shall rise born of neither flame nor fang,

But carry both in bone and breath.

Marked by fire, heart untamed—

The Dragonheart awakens.

She shall be salvation…

Or our final ruin.”

Rowan stared. Her skin crawled. “They think I’m a weapon.”

Kai was quiet. “You’re more than that.”

She looked up. “You think I’m your mate because of magic?”

Kai’s expression tightened. “No. I think fate is older than either of us.”

His eyes dropped to her shoulder. She knew he saw it—the mark, faintly glowing beneath her hoodie. Her breath hitched as he reached out, slow and reverent.

His fingers hovered just above the rune.

“And fate,” he murmured, voice low, “always burns before it bonds.”