Fire in the Viens

The vampire lunged.

Elira’s dagger flashed, meeting claw with steel. Sparks flew as the creature recoiled, hissing, but two more closed in from the sides. Kaelen stumbled back, heart hammering, clutching his useless iron poker like a child with a toy sword.

The fire inside him throbbed, clawing at his ribs, demanding release. But it wasn’t like before—it wouldn’t surge up freely. It felt…hungry.

“Kaelen!” Elira shouted, twisting out of reach of one vampire’s grasp. “Call it! You must call it!”

“I don’t know how!” he yelled, panic cracking his voice.

The lead vampire advanced slowly, lips curling in a smile. “You don’t need to know, boy. Just give in. Let it take you.”

The words sank into Kaelen’s bones like poison. His breath came ragged, heat blooming in his chest, but it was tangled with something darker. For a moment, the world tilted. He saw fire—not just burning around him, but burning through him, consuming everything in its path. Villagers screaming. Elira, falling with her violet eyes wide in betrayal.

“No,” he rasped, clutching his head.

The vampire’s smile widened. “Yes.”

A shriek cut through the night. One of the vampires reeled back, an arrow buried in its eye. Elira nocked another in an instant, loosing it into the chest of a second, buying precious seconds. She turned her head sharply toward Kaelen.

“Listen to me!” she barked, voice like a whip. “You are not their pawn. You are not their blood. You are Kaelen Thorne! You are—”

Her words broke off as the lead vampire moved faster than thought, striking her across the ribs. She hit the ground hard, her bow scattering into the ferns.

“Elira!” Kaelen cried.

The fire inside him surged, no longer asking but demanding. His veins burned, his vision blurred white-gold. The poker in his hand glowed red, then white. He screamed, and the world answered.

Flame roared outward in a blast that shook the trees. Vampires shrieked as fire engulfed them, their pale forms igniting like dry parchment. The lead vampire staggered back, his cloak aflame, his smug expression twisted into fury.

“Untrained whelp,” he snarled, voice guttural now. “You’ll burn yourself before you burn us all.”

Kaelen dropped to his knees, chest heaving, the poker melted into slag in his hand. The heat was too much—his skin blistered, his muscles trembled. He felt as though something vast and alien had clawed its way out of him, leaving him hollow.

The vampire lunged again, fury driving him. Kaelen could barely lift his head. But Elira was there, staggering to her feet, dagger clenched tight. She met the creature mid-strike, plunging the blade into his chest.

The vampire hissed, his red eyes blazing. “Foolish elf,” he spat. “When he dies, so do you.”

Elira’s voice was steel. “Then I’ll make sure he lives.”

With a twist of her blade, she severed something unseen. The vampire shuddered, his body crumbling into ash that scattered on the wind.

The forest fell silent, save for the crackle of fading embers. The remaining vampires fled into the shadows, their whispers trailing behind them:

The bloodline stirs. The hunt has only begun.

Kaelen collapsed fully, gasping for air. His skin burned with fever, sweat chilling him to the bone. Elira knelt beside him, pressing a cool hand to his brow.

“You nearly killed yourself,” she murmured. “Your power… it’s like wildfire. Uncontrolled. Hungry.”

Kaelen swallowed hard. “What…what’s happening to me?”

Her violet eyes searched his, and for once, her mask of composure cracked. “The truth? You are the last of a line bound by oath and blood to all three races—elf, wolf, and vampire. You are heir to a legacy that could save this world, or doom it.”

He stared at her, heart thundering. “And you? Why are you bound to me?”

For a long moment, she said nothing. Then, softly, almost a whisper:

“Because my life is tied to yours, Kaelen Thorne. If you die, so do I.”

The fire in his veins guttered, replaced by a colder fear. Not just for himself—but for her.