The rebellion's camp was unlike anything Elira had imagined.
Tucked between cliffs veiled by enchantment and ancient ash trees, it pulsed with quiet purpose. Tents were arranged in a half-moon, fires burned low but steady, and wards shimmered faintly in the twilight—crafted not with steel, but spellwork.
She wasn't the only one with magic.
There were others: a boy who could speak to wind, a woman with healing flames in her hands, even a silent man who walked through walls like mist. All hiding. All hunted.
And now, they looked to her.
---
"You must master it," said Corren—the rebel leader—handing Elira a dagger with runes etched along its blade. "Your flame is waking. If you don't control it, it will consume you."
"I didn't ask for this," she muttered.
"Neither did we. But here we are."
He led her to a stone circle, blackened with soot. Old scorch marks etched the ground like stories half-erased.
"Step in," he said.
As Elira crossed the threshold, the air thickened. Magic stirred around her—reacting to the ember in her soul.
From the circle's edge, fire rose.
It wasn't real flame—not entirely. It was memory. Pain. Rage. Grief.
Figures stepped from the smoke—visions from her past. The matron who punished her for disobedience. The noblewoman who spat at her in the market. Guards who once called her orphan trash.
"You are nothing," they whispered. "You will burn alone."
"No," Elira whispered, trembling.
The flames surged, her eyes glowing gold. Her breath caught—and then something broke loose in her chest.
A blaze unfurled from her hands.
The figures vanished.
The circle dimmed.
Elira dropped to her knees—but she was not the same girl who entered it.
---
Prince Auren stood before the king, hands clasped tightly behind his back.
"She's gone," King Valdren said. "The people murmur of fire in the north. Magic stirs."
"I will lead the patrols myself," Auren said evenly.
Lady Seraphine narrowed her eyes. "You take a keen interest in this girl, Your Highness."
Auren did not flinch. "I take interest in stability. Magic or not, she is dangerous if left unchecked."
The king nodded slowly. "Then bring her back—dead or alive."
Auren bowed—and turned away, heart hammering.
He had bought Elira time. But how much longer could he pretend?
---
Back at the camp, Elira stared at the scorched circle.
"Welcome back," said Corren.
"I saw what they did to my kind," she said. "They tried to erase us."
He nodded. "But now the fire remembers."
"What do you want me to do?"
He offered her a hand.
"Lead."