The rumble faded, but the tension it left behind clung to the air like smoke after a fire. I flexed my fingers, half-expecting the warmth in my palm to flare again. It didn't—but I could feel it waiting, coiled and alert, as if listening for something beyond my hearing.
Kaelis moved first. "We shouldn't linger."
"Because of the… hunters?" I asked.
"Because of attention," he replied. "In the Vale, attention shapes events."
That was not reassuring.
He led me toward the towering doors at the far end of the Ember Hall. As we approached, the sigils carved into them brightened, lines threading together like veins filling with light. I braced myself for resistance—some invisible force pushing me back—but instead the doors parted smoothly, recognizing us.
Or recognizing me.
Beyond them lay an open expanse that stole the breath from my lungs.
The Crimson Vale stretched out beneath a sky streaked with ember-colored clouds, vast and alive. Rivers of molten light ran through distant valleys, not burning the land but nourishing it, feeding towering trees with bark like dark glass and leaves glowing faintly at the edges. Floating stone platforms drifted lazily in the air, tethered by strands of light.
"This place…" I whispered. "It's beautiful."
"And merciless," Kaelis added. "Do not forget that."
We descended a broad stairway carved into the side of the hall, the steps forming themselves as we walked. The warmth under my feet remained steady, grounding me. With each step, my senses sharpened. I could hear things I shouldn't—distant wingbeats, the crackle of energy beneath the ground, the low hum of the Vale breathing.
"Is this because of the Ember?" I asked.
"Yes," Kaelis said. "Your senses are attuning. You'll need to learn which signals to heed and which to ignore."
"Ignore wingbeats?" I said. "That feels like bad survival advice."
He gave me a sidelong look. "You'll learn."
At the base of the stairs, we entered a path bordered by tall, flame-veined stones. As we passed between them, I felt a subtle pressure, like crossing a threshold. The mark on my palm warmed again.
Kaelis noticed. "This is a warded route. It conceals us from casual observation."
"Casual?" I echoed.
"Those who are searching with intent will still sense you," he said. "But it blurs the details. For now."
I followed, trying to keep my breathing steady. "You keep saying 'for now.'"
"Because time is a resource you no longer have in abundance," he replied. "Your awakening was loud."
We emerged into a courtyard where a low, circular structure stood at the center—open to the sky, its walls etched with layered symbols. Several figures were already there. They turned as we approached.
My stomach dropped.
They weren't monsters. They weren't glowing or terrifying. They were people—different ages, different builds, all wearing variations of the crimson and gold I had on. Some bore marks like mine, though none matched the dragon exactly. One had a phoenix wing across her forearm. Another bore a ring of runes around his wrist.
All eyes settled on me.
"This is Clara," Kaelis said evenly. "She has awakened."
Murmurs rippled through the group.
I resisted the urge to hide behind him. "Hi," I said, weakly. "I'm… new."
A woman stepped forward, tall and composed, her silver-streaked hair pulled back tightly. Her eyes were sharp, assessing. "She stabilized on her first forging?" she asked Kaelis.
"Yes," he replied.
The murmurs grew louder.
"That's not possible," someone muttered.
"It is," Kaelis said. "And it happened."
The woman studied me for a long moment, then inclined her head slightly. "I am Serah. Warden of the Inner Vale."
I nodded back, unsure what the proper response was. "Clara," I said again, feeling ridiculous repeating my name like that might anchor me.
Serah's gaze flicked to my palm. "Dragon-sigil," she observed. "Rare."
"Is that bad?" I asked.
Her lips twitched. "It is… complicated."
"Everything here seems to be," I said.
A ripple of amusement passed through the group. The tension eased—just a little.
Serah turned back to Kaelis. "If the Vale has announced her, then the outer factions will stir."
"They already have," Kaelis said. "I felt a pulse from the Ashbound."
My chest tightened. "Who are the Ashbound?"
Serah answered this time. "Those who believe the Ember should be chained. They hunt awakened bearers to strip the flame and bind it."
"That sounds extremely unpleasant," I said.
"It is fatal," Serah replied calmly.
I swallowed. "Good to know."
Kaelis placed a hand over his heart—a gesture that felt ceremonial. "Clara will train under my guidance," he said. "Closely."
Serah's eyebrow rose. "You're claiming her path?"
"I am," he said without hesitation.
A hush fell over the courtyard.
I glanced between them. "Is… that allowed?"
"It is unusual," Serah said. "But not forbidden. Especially given your sigil."
She looked at me again, this time with something like curiosity rather than scrutiny. "You will be tested sooner than most. Are you prepared for that?"
Prepared wasn't the word I would've chosen. But I thought of the fire in my chest, the promise I'd felt when it stirred—not demanding, just waiting.
"I don't know," I said honestly. "But I'm not running."
Serah nodded once. "Good. Then we begin with grounding."
She gestured to the circular structure behind her. "Enter."
I stepped inside, the others forming a loose ring around the edge. The air within felt different—denser, quieter. The world beyond the circle dimmed slightly, like someone had turned down the volume.
"Sit," Serah instructed.
I lowered myself to the smooth floor, crossing my legs. The warmth beneath me was comforting, steady.
"Close your eyes," she said. "Feel the Ember—but do not touch it."
I frowned. "How do I do that?"
Kaelis's voice came from my right. "Like listening to a river without stepping into it."
I closed my eyes and focused inward.
There it was—the warmth, the steady glow, deeper than before. It pulsed in time with my heartbeat. I resisted the urge to reach for it, to shape it the way I had in the hall.
Just listen.
At first, my thoughts were loud—fear, questions, flashes of memory from a life that felt far away. But gradually, they softened. The warmth didn't grow. It settled.
"Good," Serah said softly. "That is grounding. It keeps the Ember from overwhelming you when emotion spikes."
Emotion spikes. I huffed quietly. "So… all the time, then."
A few quiet chuckles answered me.
"Enough," Serah said, though her tone wasn't unkind. "For today."
I opened my eyes, surprised at how clear my head felt. Lighter. Stronger.
Serah stepped back. "You will rest. Training resumes at dawn."
"Dawn?" I repeated.
Kaelis smiled faintly. "The Vale chooses its own sun."
As the group began to disperse, Serah paused beside me. "Clara."
"Yes?"
"Do not mistake control for dominance," she said. "The Ember is not conquered. It is partnered."
I nodded slowly. "I'll remember that."
She left us then, and Kaelis gestured for me to follow. We walked along a quieter path, the glow of the Vale softening into twilight hues.
"You did well," he said after a moment.
"I didn't do much," I replied.
"You didn't force the fire," he said. "That restraint will save you."
I glanced at my palm. The dragon mark rested quietly now, warm but calm.
"Kaelis?" I asked.
"Yes?"
"What happens if I fail?"
He didn't answer right away.
"Then we adapt," he said finally. "Failure is not the end here. Surrender is."
I nodded, letting that settle.
As we reached a smaller dwelling—simple, warm-lit, and welcoming—I felt the ancient flame stir again, not urgently, not fiercely.
Just present.
Watching.
Waiting.
And for the first time since waking in that strange room, I felt something unexpected bloom beneath the fear.
Resolve.