Kaelis turned away from me without another word, his robes whispering softly as he moved. For half a second, panic flared—an irrational fear that if he left, everything holding me together would unravel.
"Wait," I said quickly.
He paused, glancing back over his shoulder.
"I don't even know how to stand in this place yet," I added. "If you're going to teach me… don't disappear."
Something unreadable passed through his eyes. Then he nodded once. "Come. Your strength has returned enough for the first step."
I hesitated, then slid off the strange bed. My feet touched the floor, and I expected cold stone. Instead, warmth spread through my soles, steady and grounding, as if the floor itself acknowledged me. I wobbled, catching myself before I fell.
Kaelis was there instantly—not touching me, but close enough that I knew he could if I needed it.
"Slowly," he said. "Your body is adjusting to the Ember's presence. It will feel like learning gravity all over again."
"That's… comforting," I muttered.
Despite the fear knotting my stomach, I straightened. The red fabric of my clothes moved easily with me, light yet protective, like it was designed for motion rather than decoration.
"Follow me," Kaelis said.
The wall ahead of us rippled, then parted soundlessly, revealing a long corridor bathed in the same red-gold glow. Symbols slid across its surface like living script, rearranging themselves as we passed.
"Does everything here move?" I asked.
"Yes," he replied. "The Vale is alive. It responds to power, intention, and sometimes emotion."
I grimaced. "That sounds dangerous."
"It is," he said calmly.
We walked in silence for a while. My thoughts raced, trying to catch up with my reality. Dragon marks. Living realms. A power inside my chest that hummed when I focused too hard on it.
Finally, I broke. "Why me?"
Kaelis slowed. "That question has broken stronger minds than yours."
"I'm serious," I said. "I didn't ask for this. I didn't summon anything. I was just… living my life."
He stopped completely now and turned to face me. "The Ember does not answer calls," he said. "It answers resonance."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning something in you already matched it," he said. "Courage. Defiance. The refusal to yield when pressed."
I stared at him. "You don't even know me."
"The mark does," he said again. "And I have seen enough awakenings to recognize patterns."
That didn't exactly comfort me, but I let it go.
The corridor opened into a vast circular chamber. The ceiling arched so high I couldn't see its end, and the floor was etched with a massive symbol—interlocking rings, lines, and sigils that formed a shape almost like wings spread wide.
"This is the Ember Hall," Kaelis said. "No weapons may be drawn here. No blood spilled. Only control is tested."
"Tested how?" I asked.
He gestured toward the center of the symbol. "Stand there."
Every instinct in me screamed don't, but I forced my feet forward. The moment I stepped into the center, the mark on my palm flared warmly.
The lines beneath my feet lit up.
I gasped as energy surged upward—not violently, but insistently—wrapping around me like invisible currents.
"Kaelis—"
"Breathe," he said firmly. "Do not fight it. Do not invite it. Just acknowledge it."
"Easier said than done," I snapped, though my voice shook.
I closed my eyes.
The warmth in my chest intensified, spreading outward. Images flickered behind my eyelids—embers drifting in darkness, vast wings folded around a sleeping flame, a heartbeat far older than my own.
You are not alone, something seemed to whisper—not in words, but in feeling.
I inhaled slowly.
Then exhaled.
The energy steadied.
When I opened my eyes, the chamber was brighter, the glow responding to me instead of overwhelming me.
Kaelis watched intently. "Good," he said. "You're listening."
"I didn't do anything," I said.
"You did," he corrected. "You didn't panic."
"That's a first."
He allowed himself a faint smile. "Now, hold out your marked hand."
I swallowed and obeyed.
"Focus on warmth," he instructed. "Not fire. Fire is destruction. Warmth is life."
The mark pulsed.
At first, nothing happened. Then a faint glow gathered above my palm, coalescing into a small flicker—no bigger than a candle flame, hovering just above my skin.
I stared, breath caught in my throat.
"I'm doing that," I whispered.
"Yes."
The flame wavered as my concentration slipped, then vanished with a soft hiss of heat.
I let out a shaky laugh. "That was… kind of amazing."
"And dangerous," Kaelis said. "That was the weakest expression of the Ember. Lose control, and it will grow."
My smile faded. "And if it grows too much?"
"Then it will burn you," he said plainly. "Or everything around you."
Silence settled heavily.
"I won't let that happen," I said after a moment.
Kaelis studied me carefully. "That certainty will serve you well—or destroy you. Time will tell."
I frowned. "You really know how to motivate someone."
He turned toward the far side of the hall, where a set of towering doors stood sealed with glowing sigils. "Your training will be constant," he said. "And it will not be gentle. Others will sense your awakening soon."
My heart skipped. "Others like… enemies?"
"Allies," he said. "Rivals. Hunters."
I swallowed hard. "Great."
Kaelis faced me once more. "You have one advantage, Clara."
"What's that?"
"You awakened without fear of the fire," he said. "You feared yourself instead."
I wasn't sure how he knew that, but he was right.
"That fear," he continued, "means you still have a choice."
A distant rumble echoed through the hall, low and unsettling. The lights flickered.
Kaelis's head snapped up. "They felt it."
"Felt what?" I asked.
"Your first spark," he said. "The Vale has announced you."
My chest tightened. "So what now?"
He met my gaze, expression hardening into something resolute and fierce. "Now," he said, "you learn faster than anyone ever has."
The mark on my palm burned warmly, steady and alive.
And deep within me, the ancient flame stirred again—watchful, patient, waiting to see what I would become.