The night had grown colder, the wind howling through the trees with an unnatural urgency, as though the earth itself was warning them. Kael stood tall, his cloak whipping behind him in the gusts, his hand still tight on the hilt of his sword. The priest from the Flame Order was not backing down—nor did Kael expect him to. The Flame Order had long since abandoned any notion of mercy or understanding.
"What's your name, priest?" Kael's voice was low, barely more than a growl, but it carried the weight of someone who had seen too much violence to be intimidated by empty threats.
The priest didn't respond immediately. Instead, his cold eyes flickered to the side, and a sharp, white-hot flame crackled to life in his outstretched hand. It danced and crackled with a familiar, terrifying intensity—the power of the Flame Order. The priest was no ordinary member of the Order. He was high-ranking, possibly even one of their most devout agents.
"I am Lysaria of the Glass Flame," she said, her voice like the sharp edge of a blade, slicing through the thick tension in the air. Her eyes were a pale, almost translucent blue—striking against the darkness of the night. "And you, Kael Valen, are an abomination. You have no place in this world."
Kael's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing, simply watching her. She was as beautiful as she was dangerous—he could feel it in his bones. There was no room for weakness in the Flame Order, and their zealotry was as terrifying as the flames they wielded.
"You seek to rid the world of evil," Kael said slowly, his voice almost a whisper. "But I wonder if you even know what evil looks like anymore."
Lysaria's lips curved into a smile, though there was no warmth in it. She stepped forward, the fire swirling around her like an ethereal halo, casting a glow that made her seem almost otherworldly. "I know what evil is," she said, her voice cold, unwavering. "I know it because I see it every time I look at you."
Kael's hand twitched toward his sword, but he held back. He wasn't afraid of her, not exactly—but he could feel the power crackling in the air between them, the weight of the past and the present pressing down on him.
Silas, ever the joker, appeared at Kael's side, a wry grin on his lips. "Well, this is interesting. Are you going to invite us to tea, Lysaria, or do you want to skip straight to the fireworks?"
Kael shot Silas a sharp look. He wasn't in the mood for jokes, but Silas was the only thing keeping the situation from spiraling completely out of control. And it didn't help that Lysaria's presence seemed to strip the very air of warmth.
Lysaria's gaze flicked to Silas, her expression darkening for a fraction of a second. "This doesn't concern you, Crow. You should leave while you still can."
Silas raised an eyebrow. "Leave? You really think I'm just going to let you and Kael have your little lovers' spat without me?"
Kael could hear the underlying tension in Silas's words, though he would never admit it out loud. There was history there, a shared history between Silas and Lysaria that Kael didn't fully understand.
Kael wasn't interested in the past. He was interested in surviving this moment.
"Enough," Kael said, stepping forward, his body a wall between the two. "This isn't going anywhere. I'm not your enemy, Lysaria."
Lysaria's eyes flashed, a cold, dangerous smile crossing her lips. "You never were. But your very existence is a threat to everything I've worked for." She raised her hands, the fire around her intensifying until it was nearly blinding. "The Flame Order does not tolerate abominations. You will come with me, or I will burn this village to the ground."
Kael felt the heat radiating off her, and for the first time in a long while, he felt the familiar weight of the curse stirring within him. His hands twitched at his sides, itching to ignite, but he held back. He couldn't let it get out of control—not here, not now.
"Then burn it," Kael said, his voice steady, almost defiant. "You'll find no allies here, Lysaria. This village is already dying. You'll only destroy what's left of it."
Lysaria's lips tightened, the flames around her flickering dangerously. "You think you understand what's at stake? You're a fool, Kael Valen. You always have been."
Kael's curse flared for a moment, a pulse of heat running through his veins as the fire around Lysaria intensified. He could feel it—the temptation to unleash his power, to let it run wild, to destroy everything in his path.
But he couldn't. Not here. Not yet.
Silas moved closer to Kael, his voice low but cutting through the tension. "It's not worth it, Kael. You can't fight her—not like this."
Kael's gaze flickered to his friend, then back to Lysaria. "I'm not going to fight her. Not yet."
Lysaria's eyes narrowed, her hand snapping forward. The flame in her palm grew, turning from orange to white-hot. "Then I will bring you to heel by force."
Before she could unleash the full brunt of her power, Silas stepped forward, raising his hands, his fingers tracing complex runes in the air. A surge of dark energy bloomed from him, filling the space between them like a barrier.
"Enough," Silas said, his voice commanding. "I'm not letting you start a war here. You can't just walk in and destroy everything because your precious Order tells you to."
The tension was thick, almost suffocating, but Kael could feel the flicker of an opening. This wasn't the moment to fight; this was the moment to escape.
"Kael," Silas said sharply, his voice urgent. "Now."
Kael didn't hesitate. He lunged forward, his body moving with the speed of a predator. His curse flared, but he kept it contained, focused on the one thing that mattered—getting away from Lysaria before everything burned to the ground.
The flames surged behind them, but Kael and Silas were already gone, vanishing into the shadows.
As the last of the flames flickered behind them, Kael's pulse thudded in his ears. The air was thick with the acrid smell of smoke and the heat of burning wood. He could feel the sting of Lysaria's fiery gaze even though he had long since left her sight. There was no doubt in his mind: she would not forget this encounter, nor would she forgive him for refusing to submit to the Flame Order's iron will.
The forest around them was eerily silent now, the only sound being the crunch of their footsteps on the dry leaves beneath their boots. It felt like the world was holding its breath, waiting for something—anything—to break the tension that had settled in the air like a storm about to explode.
Kael's hand clenched into a fist at his side, his fingers trembling with the weight of the curse that still burned within him, restless and volatile. His hands itched, the familiar pull of the fire and destruction threatening to consume him if he allowed it to run rampant. But he had learned long ago to control it—to keep it buried deep within, where it couldn't harm anyone.
"I don't trust her, Kael," Silas's voice cut through the silence, low and grim. "She's dangerous. And you're playing a dangerous game by standing against the Flame Order."
Kael didn't answer immediately. His mind was elsewhere, lost in the shadows of the village they had left behind. He could still feel the oppressive weight of Lysaria's gaze, like a brand searing into his skin. She had always been like that—impossibly beautiful, cold, and unyielding. Her fire magic was a weapon, a thing of destruction, and she had always wielded it with the kind of authority that Kael had once admired.
But admiration had turned to something darker over the years—resentment, perhaps, or a quiet rage that he could never quite suppress. She was a reminder of a past he'd tried to leave behind, of a life he'd abandoned for a reason he couldn't even remember anymore.
"I know," Kael said, his voice rough, like sandpaper scraping over stone. He paused, trying to force the storm inside him to calm. "But I won't go back to her. Not now. Not ever."
"Good," Silas muttered, the edge of his usual sarcasm gone. "Because if you do, you'll be walking straight into a trap. And you're not the only one with a target on their back."
Kael's brow furrowed, and he glanced sideways at his friend. "What do you mean?"
Silas's lips twisted into a wry grin, though there was no humor in it. "Lysaria is part of something bigger. The Flame Order is no longer just a group of fanatics. They've got their hands in everything—politics, war, power plays that even you can't avoid. You think you're just a casualty of their zealotry? No, Kael. You're part of a much larger game. And so is she."
Kael's thoughts spun, trying to make sense of what Silas was saying. There were too many unanswered questions, too many mysteries swirling around Aurenya, the strange girl, and Lysaria's return. The more he tried to understand, the more everything seemed to slip through his fingers like smoke.
"I don't care about their game," Kael said, though he wasn't sure if he believed himself. "I just need to keep moving. I can't stop now."
They walked in silence for a while, the shadows of the trees closing in around them. The weight of Kael's curse still pressed down on him, and the memory of the fire—Lysaria's fire—lingered in the back of his mind like a whispering threat.
Kael's mind turned once again to Aurenya. She was the one thing that stood apart from all of this. The strange, immortal woman with the silver eyes. She was the only one who hadn't recoiled from him, the only one who had touched him without consequence. The only one who hadn't tried to destroy him.
"She's different," Kael murmured, mostly to himself.
"What?" Silas glanced at him, his tone sharp.
"Aurenya," Kael said, his voice distant. "She's not like them. I don't know how, but... she's not like anyone else."
Silas's eyes narrowed. "You're not thinking of going back to her, are you
"You will return."
Kael froze, his heart skipping a beat.
Aurenya. Her voice, distant but unmistakable, echoed in his mind.