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**Chapter Nine: Flames in the Wind**
We left the Emberwell at dawn, though there was no real sun underground—only the slow shift of heat and light in the tunnels above. Still, I felt it in my blood: the beginning of something new.
I was Flamewoken now. I didn't fully understand what that meant. But the way the air moved around me… the way stone trembled beneath my steps… it knew.
So did the Watcher.
He kept glancing at me like I was something fragile and flammable, all at once. "They will feel it," he said as we walked. "The spark you carry. It's calling to those who remember the old war—and those who never stopped fighting it."
"Who are they?" I asked.
"Revenants. Children of the ash. Some want your power. Others want your blood. And one… may still want you back."
He didn't say my father's name. He never did.
We reached the surface before nightfall, the wind sharp and dry. Hills stretched wide before us, dotted with blackened trees and old bones half-buried in the dust. A long road wound into the distance—cracked and forgotten. Beyond it, on the edge of the horizon, rose a dark spire cloaked in mist.
"The city of Virelai," the Watcher said. "Once home to the fire court. Now twisted."
"Twisted by what?"
He hesitated. "Your father's grief… and something older he made a pact with to survive it."
My fingers brushed the hilt of the sword on my back. It thrummed softly, like it heard the city's name too.
Then I felt it.
Not fear. Not pain.
A presence.
Someone was watching.
I turned slowly—and saw her.
A girl, maybe my age, standing on the ridge above us. A cloak of wind wrapped around her shoulders. Her eyes shone silver, and her skin shimmered like stone under moonlight. She didn't look afraid.
She looked curious.
"She's not an enemy," I said instinctively.
The Watcher tensed. "You don't know that."
"Yes," I said, locking eyes with her, "I think I do."
The girl raised one hand—and light flickered between her fingers like caught lightning.
Then she was gone. Not vanished. *Moved*. Like wind through leaves.
The Watcher cursed under his breath. "Stormkin. They don't travel this far south."
"Maybe they do now."
He looked at me. "Then you're drawing more than fire. The balance is shifting."
I turned toward the spire in the distance.
"Good," I whispered. "Let it shift."
And we started walking toward it.
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