Chapter Six: Blood and Oath
The rebel camp at Hollowspire wasn't marked on any map.
It lay hidden in the belly of a collapsed mountain, masked by trees that grew too close together and cliffs that curved like a jaw. Smoke rose only at night, when the guards knew the wind would carry it south, away from any Flame Legion patrols.
Kael led Nyra through a narrow crevice in the rock, where a hidden door swung open at his touch. Two cloaked sentries aimed spears at her chest as she stepped through.
"She's with me," Kael said. His voice was hard now—no longer quiet or warm, but clipped and commanding. "Stand down."
The guards looked at each other, then slowly lowered their weapons.
Inside, Hollowspire buzzed with the quiet rhythm of a desperate army. Men and women trained with dull blades in open caverns. Smoky lanterns hung from iron beams. Children slept beneath furs, while older teens stirred soup over open fire pits. There were no banners. No songs. Just grit.
Nyra expected stares. She didn't expect outright hostility.
The moment word spread that the masked knight had returned—with her—dozens of eyes turned to her like she was a cursed relic. Whispers followed her down every passage.
"That's her?"
"Can't be."
"She's just a child."
"She's Flamebound—they said she was dead."
"She'll bring the Legion down on all of us."
Kael ignored them. Nyra didn't.
"Are they always this warm?" she muttered under her breath.
Kael smirked. "You should've seen their faces when I brought a drake egg once. They almost locked me up."
They approached a central chamber where an older woman waited beside a stone table etched with faded maps. Her armor bore old scorch marks and a ragged blue cloak pinned at the shoulder with a broken crown brooch.
"Captain Estra," Kael said. "I've brought the heir."
The woman looked Nyra over like she was a threat, not a promise. "This girl?"
"She passed the Trial of Cindralis. She bears the Flame Mark. The Emberblade accepted her."
Estra raised an eyebrow. "Show me."
Nyra stepped forward. She pulled off the ring Kael had given her. The mark on her palm lit instantly, casting a warm glow through the chamber.
The entire room went silent.
"Stars help us," someone whispered.
Estra stepped close. Her voice was lower now. "You're her daughter. Queen Elireth's."
Nyra nodded once.
"Then why didn't you die with her?" the captain asked.
Kael tensed, but Nyra held up a hand. "Because my mother chose to save me instead of dying a noble death. I don't carry her crown yet—but I do carry her fire."
Estra stared at her, stone-faced. Then she gave a curt nod. "Fine. But blood means little unless it's tested. Come nightfall, you'll take the Oath."
That evening, the cavern lit up with ceremonial flame. Dozens of rebels circled around a stone pyre as Estra stood beside it, sword in hand.
"This fire is not for warmth," she declared. "It is for truth."
She turned to Nyra. "If you swear loyalty to the cause, if you truly mean to reclaim your mother's crown, then place your hand in the fire and speak the words. If the Phoenix Flame is truly with you, you will not burn."
Kael leaned toward her. "You don't have to do this."
Nyra met his gaze. "Yes, I do."
She stepped to the pyre. The flames licked upward—hungry, alive.
She took a breath and thrust her right hand into the fire.
Gasps rang out.
But she didn't scream.
The flame curled around her fingers like silk, warm but painless. Her mark glowed like a rising sun.
"I swear by the Phoenix Flame, by the blood of the line, and by the cinders of my past," she said, voice strong, echoing. "I will fight for Aeridale. I will burn for its people. And I will not stop until the throne is cleansed and the Regent is ashes."
The fire flared upward, bright gold, then faded.
A hush fell.
Estra lowered her sword. "Then rise, Nyra Flameborn."
The rebels bowed their heads.
For the first time since Marn Hollow, Nyra felt the weight of her name—and the strength behind it.
Later, Estra found her by a torch-lit ledge overlooking the lower caverns.
"You remind me of your mother," she said. "She was fiercer, but you've got her stubborn fire."
Nyra looked down. "She never got the chance to teach me anything."
"She taught you more than you know," Estra replied. "You survived. You endured. That's the heart of what it means to wear the Flame."
They stood in silence for a moment.
Then Estra handed her a folded letter, sealed in red wax.
"This came to Hollowspire last week. Delivered by crow. No name, no seal. We didn't know who it was for—until now."
Nyra opened it carefully.
Inside, in familiar ink, was written:
He knows you live. The chains beneath Emberhold tremble. If you awaken what sleeps below, the cost will be more than fire can pay. The Grave Flame watches. Choose carefully, Nyra.
There was no signature. Just a single feather pressed between the paper—a black one.
Kael stepped up behind her. "What is it?"
Nyra stared at the message.
"A warning," she said. "But it's already too late."
She looked at the Emberblade in her hands.
"Whatever's coming next… we face it together."