Darkness thickened over the forest trail, swallowing what little light the moon could offer. The night was heavy with smoke and ash, echoes of screams lingering like phantoms in the air. Cael's bare feet pounded the earth, caked with dirt and blood, as he darted through the trees. His chest heaved, still trembling from the weight of what had happened, from the blood that had stained his hands, and from the fire that had burst forth from within him like a beast uncaged.
He clutched his grandmother's pendant tightly in his fist—her last gift, the last warm thing that remained of her. The golden threads of its chain had seared into his palm during their escape, but he refused to let go. Her dying words still rang in his ears: "You carry a greater cause… a greater destiny. Flee, my child."
Each memory struck like thunder. Her blood pouring into his arms. Her voice growing faint. The surge of heat in his bones when he screamed. Fire bursting from his flesh in wild, uncontrollable waves, the four pursuing warriors engulfed before they could lift their blades. The moment had changed him—forever.
Behind him, the trees whispered of pursuers still searching. He could not afford to linger. Ahead, the landscape narrowed into steep rock and jagged ridges. He knew this terrain—these cliffs held old tunnels and hidden caves, places his grandmother once said the ancestors used during wars. Now, they would become his sanctuary.
His body ached. Ash clung to his tunic, soaked with sweat. His eyes—now an unnatural red-gold—glowed faintly in the dark. The fire within had died down to embers, but he could still feel its warmth under his skin, like a living thing. He didn't understand it. He wasn't supposed to be anything special.
He stumbled, falling to his knees. Gritting his teeth, he pushed himself up again. "Just a little further," he muttered, trying to sound braver than he felt. His breath fogged in the cold night air.
After what felt like hours, he reached a crevice near the cliff's base, half-covered with roots and vines. He slipped inside and ducked into the darkness. The cave was small, just enough for a boy to lie down and disappear. Cael crawled in and let the silence wrap around him.
He curled against the cold stone wall and tried to steady his breathing. From here, he could still hear the faint cries of the dying. He tried to shut them out, tried not to picture the other villagers being separated—those with awakened bloodlines dragged away, others slaughtered. His grandmother's spell had cloaked them long enough to hide, but that eagle had ruined it. One shriek, and the soldiers had descended like shadows.
Cael clenched his fists. Flames flickered in his palms before he forced them away.
He didn't know what he was anymore. But he remembered what his grandmother said: he carried a cause, a destiny.
Through shivering breaths, his thoughts wandered to his father—a warrior general, a legend in their village who vanished years ago on a campaign beyond the demon border. No one ever found his body. His mother, strange and quiet, had left in search of him and never returned. They said she was different, with blood not wholly of humans. But Cael had never known for sure. All he knew was that the power stirring in him now felt ancient—like something buried deep and waiting.
"Why now?" he whispered, curling tighter. "Why me?"
A flicker of warmth danced behind his eyes again. His body hummed with a power he didn't ask for. The night grew colder, but around him, the air was warm.
Suddenly, a noise—a crack of leaves outside. Cael froze.
He pressed himself deeper into the shadows. Soft footsteps approached. He held his breath, trying to calm the pounding of his heart. The fire threatened to rise again. He bit his lip, tasting blood, forcing himself to stay silent.
The footsteps passed. Silence returned.
He slumped against the wall, tears threatening to fall, but his eyes were dry. There was no room for tears now. Only survival. Only escape.
The pendant around his neck glowed faintly. As he stared at it, something stirred inside him—not fire, but memory. His grandmother's voice, younger this time, whispering an old lullaby about fire-born warriors who guarded the realms in ages past.
"Blood of fire, guard the flame, Burn the dark, forget the name. From the ash, a star shall rise, With molten truth behind his eyes."
He didn't know what it meant. But he felt it pull at something buried in his soul.
Outside, the wind howled. Inside, Cael's breath slowed.
They would come looking again. The fire would come again. But he would not run forever.
Not anymore.
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