Zara's POV
The explosion throws guards in every direction.
My power—the silver-gold flames pouring from my hands—blasts outward like a wave. Men scream. Horses run. The entire world turns to fire and chaos.
Then everything goes black.
I wake up somewhere different. A cave, I think. Cool stone under my back. Darkness everywhere except for one source of light—Ashram, sitting nearby, his body glowing like hot coals.
"You passed out," he says before I can ask. "Your power erupted and knocked out twenty guards. Then you collapsed."
I try to sit up. Every muscle in my body aches. "Did we escape?"
"Barely. I carried you while fighting off the rest. We lost them in the canyons." He turns those gold eyes on me. "You almost killed us both."
"I didn't mean to! I don't know how to control—"
"Which is why we're going to fix that. Now." He stands. "Get up."
"I can't. I'm exhausted."
"Then you'll die exhausted." His voice is cold. Hard. "Because in three days, my magic will tear itself apart and take you with it. So get. Up."
I hate him. I hate his coldness, his cruelty, the way he looks at me like I'm already dead.
But I get up anyway.
"Good." He moves to the center of the cave. "Lesson one. Feel the bond between us."
"How?"
"Close your eyes. Focus on the brand over your heart. Tell me what you feel."
I close my eyes and press my hand to my chest where the flame mark burns. At first, nothing. Then—
Heat. Not from outside but from inside. A thread of fire connecting me to him. I can feel his heartbeat. His anger. His fear.
"I feel you," I whisper.
"Good. That connection goes both ways. My power flows into you. Your life force anchors me. We're one system now." He pauses. "Open your eyes."
I do. He's holding a flame in his palm. A small one, about the size of an apple. It dances gently, almost peaceful.
"This is spirit fire," he says. "Different from normal flames. It doesn't need fuel. It just needs will." He looks at me. "Take it from me."
"What?"
"Through the bond. Pull the flame from my hand to yours."
"I don't know how to—"
"Figure it out!"
I reach out with my hand. Nothing happens.
"Not with your hand," he snaps. "With your will. Through the bond. Feel the flame and pull it toward you."
I close my eyes again. Focus on that thread of heat connecting us. I can feel his flame—its warmth, its hunger, its desire to grow and consume.
I pull.
Pain explodes through the bond. Fire rushes into me like I swallowed lightning. It's too much, too hot, burning me from the inside out.
I scream and fall to my knees.
"Get up," Ashram commands.
"I can't!"
"You can and you will. Because if you don't learn to hold my power, we both die."
Tears stream down my face. "I'm not strong enough!"
"Stop saying that!" His voice cracks like a whip. "Stop using weakness as an excuse! You freed me. You survived the binding. You destroyed those guards. You ARE strong enough. You just don't believe it yet."
His words hit harder than the pain. Because he's right. I've spent my whole life being told I'm nothing. By Davos. By Isla. By everyone who saw a girl from the Ashwastes and decided I was worthless.
And I believed them.
"Again," Ashram says, quieter now. "Feel the flame. Don't fight it. Let it flow."
I push myself up. My hands shake. I focus on the bond, on his flame, on that thread of heat.
This time, I don't pull. I just... open. Like unlocking a door.
The fire flows into me. It still burns, but differently. Like stretching a sore muscle instead of breaking a bone.
"That's it," Ashram breathes. "Don't grab. Receive."
The flame crosses from his palm to mine. I gasp. It sits in my hand, warm and alive. My flame now.
For three seconds, I hold it.
Then it explodes.
I'm thrown backward. The cave wall catches me hard. When I open my eyes, Ashram is in front of me, flames dancing dangerously around his body.
"You lost control," he says.
"I'm sorry—"
"Don't apologize. Again."
We practice for hours. Maybe days. Time blurs together. Each time I take his flame, hold it longer. Ten seconds. Twenty. A full minute.
Each time it explodes, I get back up.
My body is covered in burns and bruises. I'm so tired I can barely stand. But Ashram doesn't let me stop. He's relentless, pushing me until I collapse, then making me get up and try again.
"Why are you so cruel?" I gasp after the hundredth failure.
"Because the world is cruel," he says. "And if you want to survive it, you need to be crueler."
"I don't want to be cruel. I just want—" My voice breaks. "I just want to save my sister. To stop Davos and Isla from winning. To make them pay for what they did to me."
Something flickers in his gold eyes. Understanding maybe. Or memory.
"Then stop trying to die and start learning to fight."
He creates another flame. Bigger this time. The size of my head.
"Take it," he commands. "All of it. And this time, hold it."
I reach through the bond. The flame rushes toward me, hungry and wild. It's too much. Way too much. It's going to burn me alive.
But I don't let go.
I hold it. Feel it. Let it fill me completely until I can't tell where I end and the fire begins.
My whole body glows. Silver and gold flames dance across my skin, in my hair, in my eyes. I look down at my hands and see power. Real power. The kind that could burn down kingdoms.
"Zara." Ashram's voice sounds different. Awed. "Look at you."
I look up. Our eyes meet. Gold and glowing silver-gold.
For the first time, I see something other than coldness in his expression.
Respect.
"How long?" I whisper, afraid to break concentration.
He checks the bond between us. His eyes widen. "Two minutes. You're holding two minutes of sustained spirit fire."
Something warm floods through me. Pride. I did it. I actually—
The cave entrance explodes inward.
Guards pour in. But not regular guards. These ones wear black armor covered in glowing symbols. Spirit hunters. The elite units trained specifically to capture beings like Ashram.
And leading them, with that familiar cruel smile—
Davos.
"Found you," he says cheerfully. "Did you really think you could hide forever?"
Behind him, Isla steps into the cave. But something's wrong with her. Her eyes glow with an unnatural light. Her skin has a weird sheen to it, like metal.
"What did you do?" I breathe.
Isla smiles. "I made myself better. Spirit essence injections. Stolen power flowing through my veins." She looks at Ashram with hunger in her eyes. "And soon, I'll have all of his."
Ashram moves in front of me. "You want my power? Come take it."
"Oh, we will," Davos says. He pulls out a crystal cage—the same kind that held Ashram before. "The Magistrate sends his regards. He's very eager to have his favorite prisoner back."
More spirit hunters appear. Twenty. Thirty. All with weapons designed to capture and contain.
We're trapped.
The flame in my hands flickers. I'm losing control. Any second now, it'll explode and knock me unconscious again.
"Zara." Ashram's voice is urgent. "Can you fight?"
I look at the power dancing on my skin. At Davos and Isla. At everyone who said I was nothing.
And something inside me snaps.
"Yes," I say. And mean it.
The flame in my hands doesn't explode.
It grows.