The transport didn't have windows.
Kian noticed that first.
Inside, the vehicle was narrow and dark, lit only by faint blue lines running along the metal walls. The engine made no sound only a low vibration that he could feel through the soles of his shoes and into his bones.
He sat alone, strapped into his seat.
They hadn't blindfolded him.
That was worse.
A thin bracelet circled his wrist, cold against his skin. A symbol pulsed faintly along its surface, glowing whenever his temperature rose slightly. He could feel it watching him, measuring him, waiting.
Containment, they called it.
The man in the dark coat sat across from him, posture relaxed, hands folded neatly in his lap. He looked as if they were taking a casual ride, not transporting something classified as a danger.
"Are you scared?" the man asked.
Kian thought about it.
"I don't know," he answered honestly.
That earned him a small nod. "That means you are good at thinking. Good."
The transport slowed.
The metal lock shifted. Pressure changed in the air.
"We are here," the man said.
The door opened slightly.
Crestfall Assassin Academy didn't look like a school.
It rose from the earth like a fortress carved into a mountainside black stone reinforced with steel veins that shimmered with faint energy. Tall spires cut into the sky, each etched with symbols Kian didn't recognize, but somehow felt.
The air here was different.
He could feel it the moment he stepped out.
Heavy. Alert. Alive.
"This is where you'll stay from now on," the man said.
"Train. Live. Survive."
Kian stared at the structure. "Do kids live here?"
"Yes."
"Do they leave?"
The man paused. "Some."
That was comforting.
They walked through massive gates guarded by figures in black uniforms. Each of them looked at Kian not with curiosity, but evaluation like a weapon inspecting another weapon.
Inside, the academy was even larger. Courtyards layered over one another. Training grounds carved into stone. Weapon halls. Shooting ranges. Sealed chambers humming with suppressed power.
Children everywhere.
Not playing.
Training.
Some practiced with blades larger than their frames. Others stood inside circles of glowing symbols, sweat pouring down their faces as invisible pressure crushed the air around them. A group no older than twelve fired guns at moving targets that fired back.
No one screamed.
Everyone watched each other carefully.
"Are they like me?" Kian asked quietly.
The man replied, "No. You are the last Emberborn. The others are Veilborn, Hexblood, and Nightbound. Different origins. Different survivors."
Kian's bracelet pulsed faintly.
As they passed, the conversation stopped.
Eyes followed him.
He didn't know why until someone whispered it.
That's him.
The fire child.
Is that the one who survived the purge?
A boy about Kian's age stood near the edge of the courtyard, arms crossed. His hair was silver-white. Eyes sharp and cold. A faint ripple of energy moved around him like static.
Their eyes met.
The boy didn't look away.
He smiled.
But it wasn't friendly.
"That one," the man said quietly, noticing Kian's gaze, "is ranked seventh among the first year."
"Ranked?" Kian asked.
"Crestfall uses a hierarchy," the man explained.
"Power. Control. Kill efficiency. You earn your place."
"Where am I ranked?" Kian asked.
The man stopped walking.
"You aren't," he said. "Not yet."
They reached a wide hall lined with names carved into black stone hundreds of them. Some crossed out. Some shattered entirely.
"These are graduates," the man said, "and casualties."
Kian swallowed.
A woman waited at the end of the hall. Tall. A scar running from her jaw to her neck. One artificial eye faintly glowing red.
"Instructor Virel," the man said. "He is yours."
She looked at Kian once.
Just once.
"Hm," she said. "So this is the flame."
Kian stiffened.
"You are smaller than I expected," she continued.
"Good. Small things burn faster."
The man stepped back. "He is the last Emberborn. He is classified and unstable. Don't kill him."
Virel smiled. "No promises."
The man turned to Kian. "Listen carefully. What you do here determines whether you live as a weapon or die as a liability."
Then he walked away.
Just like that.
Kian was alone.
"Follow," Virel snapped.
She led him through underground corridors, deeper than any facility he had known before. The air grew warmer the farther they went.
Cells lined the walls.
Some were empty.
Some were not.
Kian felt something pressing against his chest as they passed one door, heat, rage, hunger. His bracelet flared bright blue.
"Eyes forward," Virel said sharply. "If you let others' energies stir you, you will explode before you ever awaken."
They stopped in a circular chamber.
At the center stood a platform scorched black.
"This is where we test you," she said.
"Test?" Kian echoed.
She shoved him forward.
He stumbled onto the platform. The symbols ignited beneath his feet.
The room is sealed.
Pressure crashed down onto Kian like invisible hands.
Heat surged through his chest, wild and uncontrollable.
"What's happening?" he gasped.
"It's a suppression chamber," Virel replied calmly. "Every Emberborn breaks here. But you are the last one."
The pressure increased.
Kian cried out in pain, anger, rage and a feeling of something bowing to him.
Flames licked up his arms before he could stop them.
The symbols flared violently.
Alarms screamed.
Outside the chamber, the instructors froze in shock.
"Shut it down!" someone yelled.
Virel's eyes widened.
"The fire didn't rage," she said.
It listened.
It folded inward.
The heat vanished.
Silence slammed into the room.
Kian collapsed to his knees, breathing heavily.
The seals dimmed.
For a long time, no one spoke.
"Interesting," she said. "You didn't break."
She leaned closer, studying Kian with her gleaming eye.
"You didn't resist suppression," she continued.
"You made it irrelevant."
Word spread through Crestfall that night.
The last of the Emberborn had arrived.
The one who didn't fight the flame.
The one who commanded it without knowing how.
And somewhere deep within the academy, in a restricted level, an old file was reopened.
EMBERBORN PURGE: FAILED
STATUS: Active