The sun hung low over the crumbled spires of Aetheris, casting long shadows through the skeletal remains of a city that had once pulsed with magic. Kael stood at the edge of the marketplace, his fingers brushing against the cracked cobblestones, feeling the faint tremors of desperation in the air. The scent of burnt incense lingered, mingling with the metallic tang of blood. He had not meant to return, but the pull was stronger than reason.
A child’s laughter echoed from the alleyway, sharp and brittle. Kael turned, his cloak billowing like a storm cloud. A figure darted past him—a boy no older than ten, clutching a bundle wrapped in tattered silk. The boy’s eyes were wide, pupils dilated, as if he’d seen something that should not exist. Kael moved before thought could intervene, grabbing the boy’s wrist. The contact sent a jolt through him, a cascade of emotions flooding his senses: fear, desperation, and something colder—something old.
“Let go of me!” the boy hissed, struggling. His voice was too deep for his age, layered with a timbre that made Kael’s teeth ache. The bundle slipped from the boy’s grasp, landing in the dirt. Kael knelt, fingers brushing the fabric. It was warm. Too warm.
“The Ember,” the boy whispered, his breath ragged. “It’s awake.”
Kael’s pulse thrummed. He had heard the stories—fragments of a fire that once burned at the heart of Aetheris, consumed by a war that left the city hollow. But the Ember was a myth, a tale told to scare children from the ruins. And yet, the boy’s words felt like a blade against his ribs.
A scream tore through the air. Kael turned just in time to see a woman collapse, her hands clawing at the earth as if trying to dig herself into it. Her skin was blistering, veins pulsing with a sickly green light. The boy yanked free, darting into the shadows. Kael hesitated, then ran after him, his boots slapping against the stones.
The alleyway twisted, narrowing into a tunnel of crumbling stone. Faint cracks in the walls glowed with an eerie blue light, like the remnants of a long-dead spell. Kael’s breath came fast, each inhale filling his lungs with dust and something acrid, like ozone. The boy stopped abruptly, turning to face him. His face was pale, but his eyes burned with an unnatural intensity.
“You shouldn’t have followed me,” the boy said. His voice was still that same deep, distorted timbre. “It’s already too late.”
Kael stepped forward, hand outstretched. “What’s happening?”
The boy’s lips curled into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “The world is ending. And you’re part of it.”
Before Kael could respond, the tunnel shuddered. A low rumble echoed from the depths, vibrating through the ground. The boy’s expression shifted—fear, but also something else, like recognition. Kael felt it too: a presence, vast and ancient, pressing against the edges of his mind. It was not a creature, not exactly. More like a wound in reality itself.
The tunnel collapsed behind them, sealing the boy and whatever he had been carrying. Kael stumbled forward, his hand grazing the wall as dust rained down. The air was thick now, charged with a static that made his skin crawl. He had to find the Ember. He had to understand what the boy meant. But as he turned, the shadows around him seemed to thicken, coalescing into shapes that did not belong in this world.
Kael ran.
