The air in Lirien stank of ash and iron. Kaela knelt at the edge of the clearing, her fingers digging into the soil as she willed the fire to die. It didn’t. The flames roared, licking the sky with tongues of gold and crimson, casting jagged shadows across the village’s thatched roofs. She could feel it—the heat pressing against her skin, the acrid tang of smoke in her lungs, the way the earth trembled beneath her knees. But it wasn’t enough. Not this time.
“You’re losing control,” Mira said, her voice a low growl behind Kaela. The old woman’s hands were clasped behind her back, her posture rigid with something between warning and resignation. “This isn’t the first time.”
Kaela didn’t look up. She couldn’t. The fire had taken root in her chest, a living thing that pulsed with every heartbeat. It wasn’t just anger—this was something deeper, something she’d buried too long. The villagers had taught her to suppress it, to fold the emotions into themselves like origami cranes. But the crane was breaking, its wings fraying at the edges.
“I didn’t mean for this,” Kaela whispered. Her voice cracked. The flames surged, leaping higher, devouring the dry brush that lined the clearing. A nearby tree groaned as its bark blackened.
Mira stepped closer, her boots crunching over fallen leaves. “You never do.” She crouched beside Kaela, her weathered face tilted upward. “But you have to choose, child. Either you master it, or it will burn you alive.”
The words hung between them, heavy as the smoke that thickened the air. Kaela’s throat burned. She wanted to argue, to say she was trying, but the fire had already taken root in her bones. It was too late for words.
—
The council’s hall loomed at the center of Lirien, its stone walls etched with symbols that pulsed faintly in the dusk. Kaela stood before them, her hands clenched at her sides, her breath shallow. The seven figures seated in the semicircle regarded her with expressions as blank as polished obsidian. They had always looked like that—cold, unyielding, their faces carved from the same unfeeling stone as the walls around them.
“You’ve endangered the village,” said Eryx, the council’s eldest. His voice was a rasp, like gravel in a windstorm. “Again.”
Kaela met his gaze, her jaw tight. “I didn’t do it on purpose.”
“Intent doesn’t matter,” another councilor interjected. Her name was Liora, and she wore a silver ring that glinted like a blade. “You’ve shown no restraint. No discipline.”
“Discipline?” Kaela’s laugh was bitter, sharp as broken glass. “You expect me to suppress what I am? To smother it until it’s nothing but ash in my lungs?”
The room went still. Even the flickering torches seemed to dim.
Eryx leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. “You know the rules, Kaela. The fire is a gift, but it is also a burden. You’ve failed to honor that balance.”
“Balance?” She stepped forward, her boots thudding against the stone floor. “You call this balance? Locking us in cages of silence, forcing us to forget what we are?”
A murmur rippled through the councilors. Liora’s fingers twitched, her ring catching the firelight. “You speak of forgetting, but you are the one who refuses to listen.”
Kaela’s breath came faster now, her pulse a drumbeat in her ears. She could feel the fire rising again, coiling in her chest like a serpent. It was everywhere—inside her, outside her, pressing against the edges of her skin. She wanted to scream, to break something, to tear the walls of this place apart. But she didn’t. Not yet.
“I’m not like the others,” she said, her voice low, steady. “I don’t want to be.”
Eryx’s gaze darkened. “Then you leave us no choice.”
—
The night after the council’s judgment, Kaela slipped out of Lirien under the cover of darkness. The village was quiet, its people asleep behind shuttered windows, their faces hidden in the gloom. She didn’t look back. Not once.
The path to the Ashen Wilds was treacherous, winding through dense thickets and jagged rocks that scraped her legs as she ran. The air was colder here, tinged with the scent of damp earth and distant rain. Kaela’s breath came in ragged gasps, her muscles burning with the effort of moving forward. But she couldn’t stop. Not now.
She didn’t know how long she’d been walking when she finally collapsed, her back against the trunk of a gnarled oak. The fire inside her had dimmed, leaving only a hollow ache in her chest. She curled into herself, her fingers brushing against the rough bark of the tree. It was strange, how something so ancient could feel so alive.
“You’re far from home,” a voice said. It was soft, almost a whisper, but it cut through the silence like a blade.
Kaela jolted upright, her hand flying to the dagger at her belt. “Who’s there?”
A figure stepped from the shadows, their face obscured by a hood. The moonlight caught the edge of their cloak, revealing a patchwork of deep blues and blacks. “You’re Kaela of Lirien,” they said, not as a question but as a statement.
“And you are?”
The figure tilted their head. “Call me Mira. I’ve been waiting for you.”
Kaela’s grip on the dagger tightened. “Why?”
Mira didn’t answer immediately. Instead, they crouched beside her, their movements slow and deliberate. “Because you’re like me,” they said at last. “And because the fire inside you is too strong to be ignored.”
Kaela’s breath caught. She wanted to ask more, to demand answers, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, she watched as Mira reached into their cloak and pulled out a small vial filled with a glowing amber liquid. “This will help,” they said, holding it out. “But only if you’re ready to face what’s coming.”
Kaela hesitated. The fire inside her was still there, burning low but persistent, like the embers of a dying hearth. She didn’t know if she was ready. But she knew one thing—she couldn’t go back.
—
The journey with Mira was long and unrelenting. They traveled through forests where the trees whispered secrets in languages Kaela couldn’t understand, across rivers that shimmered with an unnatural silver light, and into mountains that clawed at the sky like the bones of some long-dead titan. Each step brought new challenges—storms that raged without warning, creatures that lurked in the shadows, and the ever-present weight of Kaela’s own emotions.
“You can’t run from it,” Mira said one evening as they sat by a fire that crackled with an eerie blue flame. The sky above them was a tapestry of stars, their light dimmed by the thick clouds rolling in from the west. “The fire is part of you. You have to learn to listen to it.”
Kaela stared into the flames, her fingers tracing the edge of the vial she still carried. “I don’t know how.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
Mira’s eyes were dark, like the void between stars. “Then we’ll find out together.”
It wasn’t easy. There were nights when Kaela felt like she was breaking apart, the fire inside her threatening to consume her entirely. She fought against it, against the emotions that surged through her—anger, fear, grief, longing. But Mira was there, guiding her, teaching her how to channel the fire instead of letting it control her.
“It’s not about stopping the fire,” Mira said one morning as they stood on a cliff overlooking a valley bathed in golden light. “It’s about understanding it. About knowing when to let it burn and when to let it fade.”
Kaela looked out at the valley, the sun rising over the distant hills, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. For the first time in a long while, she felt something close to peace. Not because the fire was gone, but because it was finally under her control.
—
The return to Lirien was not a triumphant one. The village had changed in Kaela’s absence, its people more guarded, its streets quieter. The air still carried the scent of ash, but there was something else now—a tension that crackled like static in the wind.
She found the council waiting for her, their faces as impassive as ever. But this time, there was a difference. A flicker of uncertainty in Eryx’s eyes. A hesitation in Liora’s steps.
“You’ve returned,” Eryx said, his voice steady but lacking its usual authority.
Kaela stepped forward, her hands open, her posture relaxed. “I’m not here to fight. I’m here to talk.”
The councilors exchanged glances. “Talk?” Liora’s voice was sharp, but there was a note of curiosity beneath it.
Kaela nodded. “I’ve learned things. About the fire, about myself. And I think… I think you’ve been afraid of it for too long.”
Eryx’s expression didn’t change, but something in his posture shifted. “And what do you propose?”
Kaela took a deep breath, feeling the fire inside her stir but not burn. “That we stop hiding from it. That we stop fearing what we are. The fire isn’t a curse. It’s a part of us, and it always has been.”
The silence that followed was heavy, but it wasn’t the same as before. This time, there was a chance—however small—that they might listen.
And for the first time in a long while, Kaela felt something she hadn’t in years. Hope.