The days had quieted down.No thunder. No hunting horns. No secrets breathed on the wind.Only the soft rustle of trees in the valley below, the soft hush of morning dew dripping from leaves, and the quiet sound of Emereah's breath, slow and even as she sat cross-legged beside the flamepit.Her hand lay on her belly, round now — throbbing with heat. The child moved.Vera moved around the cave like a silent sentinel, always alert, always armed. But her eyes softened each time they landed on Emereah — her friend, her flameborn sister, now carrying something far more precious than rebellion.“You’re up early,” Vera murmured, setting down a basket of dried herbs and crushed fireroot. “You didn’t sleep again, did you?”Emereah gave a faint smile. “The baby likes to dance at dawn.”Vera raised an eyebrow. "Your child's already as impatient as its mother. Saints preserve us.""I believe that saints are not involved with what is approaching," Emereah replied quietly.There was a silence — thi
Helix rose to her feet, voice increasing in outrage. "You offered her refuge, Rhovan. You disobeyed your pack. Your oath. Your Alpha. You disobeyed us.""I disobeyed fear," Rhovan snarled. "I disobeyed murder in the name of prophecy. I disobeyed you—and I'd do it again."One of the younger elders, a pale-eyed woman named Yra, leaned forward. "Where is she now?"Rhovan glared at her, unblinking. "Far from your reach."Enza's lips curled. "We can make you talk. You're not Flamebound, Rhovan. Not like she is. You bleed just like the rest."Calrex indicated the side alcove, and two shadow-cloaked sentinels emerged carrying instruments made of moon-silver and obsidian.Rhovan's jaw clenched.“We don’t want to harm you,” Calrex said almost gently. “But the child she carries… the omens are worsening. Storms gather at the borders. Earthquakes beneath the cliffs. Magic unraveling in the far north. If it’s born—”“You’ll blame it no matter what,” Rhovan snapped. “Because it’s easier to slaughte
The cave was deathly quiet.A heavy shroud of magic encircled the entrance, spun by Emereah's hands and Vera's ancient incantations. There was no sound to escape. No light to flicker. No path to wind here—not through woods or flame.It was a lost place.A protected place.Or so they hoped.Emereah sat beside the fireless hearth, her fingers distractedly tracing the round of her belly. The child shifted gently within her—an ember under skin.Vera came back from the cave entrance, face drawn with concern. "Still nothing," she whispered, putting down a satchel of herbs. "No scouts. No howling. No trace of them."Emereah nodded, looking distant. "But they're looking."Vera sat beside her. "How do you know?""Because the air was off." Emereah's voice barely existed. "Because the connection between us—between him and me—shuddered last night. Like something had been announced. Like something… changed."She gazed off toward the stone wall, as though seeing beyond it, past the cliffs and accur
The moon remained low and red-hued over the sky, throwing a bloody color across the balconades of stone in the Flame Court.Vladimir alone, one hand leaning on the war tower railing, the other tightly balled into a shaking fist.He felt it.Something was changing.The planet itself ached—tense, as a bowstring was pulled to snapping point. It was in the breeze, in how the soldiers walked more rigidly today, how even Captain Rhen went out of his way to avoid his eye. Something unwholesome moved.He couldn't remember when the feeling started—possibly in the middle of the night, waking from a dream about Emereah with roots of fire surrounding her, her hand holding against her full belly, her eyes wide with caution.Or maybe it was the scent—terse, vilely recognizable. Politics. Treachery. Perfume redolent with blood.He didn't flinch when the doors behind him opened."Speak," he spoke without warmth."It's happened," Rhen whispered. "The Council had a private session today. Without your i
Inside the Inner Circle of the Outer Sanctum, the sacred room once reserved solely for silence now raged and trembled.The central flame—usually tranquil, blue-white and unchanging—now roared a deep orange, its whips writhing madly toward the ceiling as if famished and unfed.Enza's gaze stayed on the fire, her voice a low, bitter quiver."It has begun."Calrex, iron-faced and aged, stood up."Too long we have argued. Too long we have allowed emotion cloud reason. The prophecy is unravelling in front of our very eyes, and yet she strays unpunished—with that. that anarchy in her belly."Judge Helix scowled. "You talk as though the child has already wrought havoc.""Have you not felt the shift?" Enza snarled. "The winds screaming through the sanctum spires? The disease spreading in the northern provinces? The portents that seep into our dreams like flame through snow?""She's run," grunted Elder Deyra, her hands shaking against the carved edges of her chair. "Run off into darkness. And
It wasn't just a flutter of life.It was awareness.A warmth unfolding just below her ribs, slow and ancient—like something older than her blood had stirred.Emereah's eyes snapped open. Her breath was caught."Did you feel that?" she whispered."Voice trembling.Vera lifted her head from the ring of salt she'd just drawn by the door. "What is it?""I don't know," Emereah breathed. "But it wasn't mine… and it wasn't just the baby.A soft light capered across her skin, orange-gold, like the flames of a fire that did not exist. Her fingertips radiated softly. Her heartbeat roared louder, harder, like drums at war.The child was reacting.To her fear. To danger. To the promise of safety.To Vladimir's flames.Her spirit was drawn—wrenched through the veil of distance and rock and magic.Abruptly, in her mind's eye, she saw it:Vladimir through a firestorm of embers, the earth splitting beneath his feet, the council stepping back as his aura expanded. His eyes burning. His voice booming.