"No—what is happening to me?"
Fire erupted from her hands—wild and uncontrolled. She tried to pull it back, but the flames spread—arms, shoulders, consuming her in white heat.
I am a monster. Gods, what am I?
But the fire had its own hunger.
Three hundred warriors froze—swords hung in the air, shields clattered to the ground. Through the flames, she saw their faces—wide eyes, mouths open in recognition.
Thorne's voice cut through the roar. "Run!"
She reached for his voice. The fire drowned it out.
A spear-bearer charged, scarred hands gripping the shaft.
No. Stop. I do not want—
The spear melted before it reached her. Flames consumed him. His scream was cut short.
I killed him.
Horror should come. Only hunger remained.
The fire whispered promises.
Burn them all.
Kaelen turned towards the next warrior, but her body moved without her command.
Thorne's shout reached her, faint and distant. "Kaelen, you have to—"
She tried to answer, but fire poured from her mouth instead of words.
This is what Mother felt. This is why they killed her.
Warriors ran—some towards the gates, some towards burning buildings—anywhere away from her. Verrian's men abandoned their formations, and Erathil's defenders threw down their weapons.
A young guard stumbled backwards, hands raised. "Please!"
I know him. He brought me bread once.
Fire took him anyway. Ash, where a boy had been.
I will remember them all.
The square is filled with screams. Buildings burst into flames, market stalls burned, and wooden houses cracked and fell. The Archive's stone walls cracked from the heat.
. . .
From the hilltop, Verrian watched the city burn.
Mordane rode up beside him, his armour still clean. "My lord, we should retreat. The girl has lost control."
Verrian leant forward in his saddle. "This is precisely what I sought to witness."
"But—"
"Look at her. Tell me what you see."
Mordane watched. "Flame magic. Out of control."
Verrian pointed. "No. That is raw creation power. The power that built the first wards."
Below them, Kaelen's fire reached the outer walls, and stone began to melt.
Mordane's horse stamped. "Call the retreat. Before she burns the whole valley."
Verrian raised his horn and blew three sharp notes. Warriors streamed away from the burning city. Verrian stayed where he was, studying Kaelen's uncontrolled power.
"Fifteen years of planning. Worth every day."
. . .
Thorne stood at the edge of the square. The city burned around him. He could not retreat whilst she destroyed everything.
He moved forward. "Kaelen! You have to stop!"
She turned towards his voice. Her eyes focused on his face, and the fire around her hands grew brighter.
Thorne raised his shield. "Kaelen, please!"
He stepped forward. The air burned his lungs, but he kept walking.
Two steps. The leather straps on his armour smoked.
Three steps. His shield's metal started to glow.
Five steps. His skin began to blister.
Keep moving. She needs you.
Memory flashed—Kaelen at seven, gripping a practice sword with both hands, blade tip dragging in the dirt.
She had demanded when he knocked her down. "Again."
Ten steps. His vision blurred. The air tasted of ash and burning flesh, and his armour burned through the padding beneath. The pain was terrible, but he pressed forward.
I promised Mother I would protect her, even from herself.
Fifteen steps. He could no longer feel his feet. Skin peeled away from his arms—wet muscle glistened underneath. Blood ran down his face. The heat had cracked his scalp.
Seventeen steps.
Memory flashed—Kaelen at twelve. Elena had just died. She pressed her face into his shoulder.
"Promise me you will not leave, too."
I promised.
Twenty steps. The stench of his own burning flesh filled his lungs.
Twenty-five steps. Close enough to touch her. Close enough to see himself reflected in her eyes—armour melted, flesh charred—still advancing.
Kaelen raised her hands. Fire gathered.
Thorne reversed his grip on his sword and struck her at the base of her skull with the pommel.
The flames died instantly. She collapsed.
. . .
Thorne stood over her, ruined armour smoking, burns covering his arms and face. The square fell silent. Fires crackled. Bodies lay scattered around them—hundreds.
Blood dripped from his fingertips onto Kaelen's still form.
I am dying.
The blood touched his burns. The wounds closed.
"What—"
Pink skin crawled across the burns—a blister sealed. Skin spread across raw muscle. He turned his arm—new skin, no scar, no mark. No pain, only warmth spreading through him.
Elena's spell. The binding she cast.
He ran fingers over skin that should have been ruined. Smooth. Unmarked.
How?
He knelt beside Kaelen and checked her breathing. Steady.
Her blood did this. Or my blood responding to hers.
His blood pooled beneath his hand, mixed with hers from the pommel strike. The blood glowed faintly—red mixed with gold—then faded.
What did you do to us, Mother?
He tested his legs and stood slowly.
. . .
Mordane looked down. "I am sorry, my lord. I failed you. I could have killed her when I had the chance."
Verrian laughed. "Failed me? Mordane, you have given me exactly what I needed."
"I do not understand."
"I wanted to see her power unleashed—to know what we truly face. Now I know."
Mordane looked from the burning city to Verrian. "But the girl still lives."
"For now. But look what she has done." Verrian gestured at the burning city. "She has just killed half her own defenders. Destroyed half her own city. When she wakes up and realises what she has done..."
"She will be broken."
"Completely. Broken people bend easiest to our purpose." Verrian turned his horse away from the valley. "Call the men. We return to Shadowland."
Mordane paused. "My lord? We are not pressing the attack?"
Verrian glanced back at the burning city. "Why would we? She will come to us willingly now. They always do, once they understand what they truly are."
Captain Korrath rode up, his armour blackened by fire. "My lord, the men are asking about the prisoners. The children from Nareth Hollow."
"Release them at the border. They are no longer useful."
Korrath hesitated. "And the girl?"
Verrian watched the smoke rise. "She will follow. With that much power and that much guilt, she will do anything to make amends. Including joining the people she just tried to destroy."
The shadow warriors withdrew into the hills, leaving behind a city of ash and blood.
. . .
Six guards in crimson and black Council colours stood at Kaelen's door when Thorne arrived. Each one carried a ward-breaker staff, and new wards glowed on her door—seven layers deep.
The lead guard stepped forward. "Commander."
Thorne stopped in front of them. "Is she awake?"
The lead guard nodded. "Yes, sir. Has been for an hour."
The guard planted the staff between them. "The Council ordered—"
Thorne kept his voice level. "I know what the Council ordered. I am countermanding it."
"Sir, we have explicit instructions—"
"From whom?"
The guard's grip tightened on his staff. "Elder Graves himself, sir. No one enters without Council approval."
Behind the door, voices carried—low and urgent.
Thorne studied the guard. "How many men do you have in there?"
"Four inside, sir. Six out here. Two more at the corridor entrance."
Twelve guards for one girl.
They are terrified of her.
Down the corridor, two scribes hurried past. They saw Thorne, saw the guards, and whispered to each other.
"—heard she killed three hundred—"
"—Council is debating execution—"
"—no, binding her power permanently—"
"—like her mother—"
Their voices faded. Everyone in the Archive was afraid.
Thorne turned back to the guard. "What are people saying?"
The guard straightened. "Permission to speak freely, sir?"
"Granted."
The man met his eyes. "They are saying she is a monster. That she killed our own people without hesitation. That she is exactly what the Council has feared for seventeen years."
Another guard spoke up—younger. "My brother was in the square, sir. He fought for Erathil. She burned him all the same."
Thorne kept his voice quiet. "She could not tell friend from foe. She had lost control."
The younger guard stepped forward. "Does that matter to his widow? Does that matter to his children?"
Thorne said nothing.
From inside the chamber, raised voices.
"—weapon, not a person—"
"—the Virelle bloodline has always been unstable—"
"—should have executed her when we had the chance—"
"—like we did her mother—"
Thorne drew his sword an inch from its sheath. "Open the door."
"Sir, I cannot—"
"That was not a request."
The lead guard glanced at his men, then at Thorne's sword. He reached for his keys—seven different keys, one for each layer of wards. He unlocked them in sequence, each ward flaring bright before dying.
The door swung open.
. . .
Four more guards stood inside. In the centre of the chamber, two Council members argued—Elder Morvain and Elder Thane Blackmere.
Blackmere blocked his path. "Commander. You were not summoned."
Thorne moved forward. "I do not require summoning."
He looked past them to where Kaelen sat on the edge of her bed, turning her palms up.
Thorne stopped beside the guards. "What are you doing?"
Morvain gestured at the guards. "Protecting the Archive. She killed three hundred of our people, Commander."
"She killed them by accident."
Blackmere stepped forward. "You call that level of destruction an accident?"
Thorne held his ground. "She lost control."
Morvain's voice softened, but held firm. "Precisely our point. She cannot be trusted with that much power. The Virelle bloodline is unstable—always has been. Maera proved that, and now her daughter has proven it again."
Kaelen looked up, her eyes swollen, lashes wet.
She whispered, "I killed them. The bread boy. All of them."
Thorne started towards her. The guards stepped into his path. "You were not in control."
Kaelen opened her hands. "I felt every death. I memorised their faces. The young guard who brought me bread. I remember burning them all."
Morvain watched her. "That proves our point. You are too dangerous to remain free. The Council has voted."
Thorne turned to face him. "Voted on what?"
Blackmere met his gaze. "Binding her power. Permanently."
Thorne's hand went to his sword. "Like you did to her mother?"
"That was different—"
"Her mother died! You bound Maera's power, and she died screaming."
Morvain spoke quietly. "Maera resisted. Kaelen will not resist." He looked at her. "Will you, child?"
Kaelen examined her fingers. "I do not want to hurt anyone else."
"Then you accept the binding?"
She nodded slowly. "Whatever keeps people safe."
Thorne pushed past the guards and knelt beside her. "No. You do not have to do this."
She met his eyes. "What choice do I have? I am a monster, Thorne. I burned children."
Thorne kept his voice low. "You lost control for a moment. That does not define you."
She held out her hands. "Does it not? These hands burned a boy who smiled at me yesterday. What am I if not a monster?"
Outside the chamber, more voices rose—louder now and angrier.
"—Virelle witch—"
"—should burn like her mother—"
"—killed my brother—"
"—not safe whilst she lives—"
A crowd was gathering.
Blackmere gestured towards the noise. "The people want justice."
"Or they want vengeance?"
"At times, they are the same."
Morvain moved to the window where torches gathered in the courtyard below—dozens of them, maybe hundreds.
He turned back. "The binding happens at dawn. Whether you agree or not, Commander."
Thorne stood. "And if she refuses?"
Blackmere gestured at the window, at the gathering crowd. "Then the people get what they want. We cannot protect her forever. The binding at least lets her live."
Thorne looked at Kaelen and saw she had already accepted her fate.
I will not let them do this to you. Not whilst I still breathe.
But even as he thought it, he knew the Council had already won. The crowd wanted blood, the guards wanted security, and Kaelen wanted absolution. All he had was a healing gift he did not understand and a promise to a dead woman.
Protect them both.
Thorne turned to the Council members. "Leave us."
Morvain did not move. "Commander—"
"A few moments. Then you can have her."
Morvain and Blackmere exchanged glances.
Morvain gestured to the guards. "Very well. Outside. All of you."
The lead guard shifted his weight. "Sir—"
Morvain's voice hardened. "Now."
The guards filed out.
. . .
The footsteps faded. Thorne turned to her.
Kaelen kept her gaze down. "You are healed."
Thorne crossed to the window where workers cleared bodies from the square below.
Kaelen spoke quietly. "Hundreds. I killed hundreds."
Thorne did not turn. "Our people and theirs."
Kaelen closed her eyes.
Thorne turned from the window. "There is something you need to know."
Kaelen looked up. "What?"
He looked at her throat—the pendant was gone. "Your pendant. Where is it?"
She looked down. "I—the pendant."
She stood quickly. Pillows. Blankets. Every corner of the chamber. "It has to be here. It has to—"
She stopped at the small chest beside her bed—the one where she kept the Hollow Map. The lid hung open.
Empty.
She could barely speak. "No. No, no, no."
She dropped to her knees, searching under the bed, behind the chest. "The Map. Thorne, the Map is gone, too."
Thorne moved closer. "The guards brought you to your chambers after you collapsed. You wore no pendant then."
She spun towards him. "Riven. Where is Riven?"
Thorne moved closer. "No one has seen him since you collapsed. We searched the entire Archive."
Kaelen sank back onto the bed. She stared at the empty chest. "He took them. The pendant. The Map. Everything Mother left me."
"Why would he—"
Kaelen gripped the edge of the bed. "Because I trusted him. Because I thought saving children mattered more than my own safety."
Thorne sat beside her. "Kaelen—"
She opened her hands. "I burned our own people, Thorne. I nearly burned you. And for what? So a prisoner could steal the only things keeping me stable?"
Thorne kept his voice steady. "We will find him."
"Will we? He could be anywhere by now. The pendant could be—" She stopped. "Verrian has it, does he not?"
"We do not know that."
Kaelen walked to the window. "Yes, we do. Riven crossed the Blightlands to warn us. Why would he do that unless he was already working for Verrian?"
Thorne rose. "Then why help us destroy the sphere?"
"Because Verrian wanted it destroyed. He wanted to see what I could do without the pendant's control. He wanted to see me burn my own city."
Thorne joined her at the window where workers cleared bodies from the square below.
Kaelen continued. "And now he knows. He knows exactly what kind of weapon I could be."
"You are not a weapon."
She turned to face him. "Am I not? Three hundred of our own people are dead because I could not control myself. The city is half-destroyed. Verrian is planning how to use me next."
Thorne joined her at the window. "We will stop him."
"How? My pendant is gone. The Map is gone. I cannot control my power without them." Her fingers curled. "Next time I lose control, there might not be anyone left to stop me."
Thorne held her gaze. "Then we make sure there is not a next time."
"How?"
"By learning what our mothers actually did. Not the Council's version. The truth."
Kaelen waited. "The visions I had when we touched. Elena is weaving spells around a grey-eyed boy. She did something similar with your blood. The healing you just witnessed proves it worked."
Thorne drew his dagger and dragged it across his palm. Blood welled in the cut.
The cut sealed within seconds.
Kaelen stepped closer. "Elena's protection spell. She did not just bind our power. She bound our lives."
Thorne examined his healed palm. "Which means?"
"Which means if I die, you die too."
"And if you lose control?"
"Then we find out together."
Outside, ash fell over the ruins of Erathil.
. . .
End of Chapter 16
. . .
Next Chapter Preview: The Price of Fire
With Riven and the pendant gone, Kaelen and Thorne must uncover the truth about Elena's protection spell before Verrian returns with an even deadlier plan. But when Sebastian reveals the location of Elena's hidden journal, they discover that the blood binding between them was never meant to save their lives—it was meant to end them both, should Kaelen's power ever grow too strong to contain.