The footsteps grew louder, more distinct, as if the very earth feared each one. The trees stopped swaying. Birds vanished. The forest held its breath. A low fog crept into the clearing, clinging to Aeren's boots and swirling with unnatural chill.
Kaelen stepped in front of Aeren instinctively, eyes narrowed, her dagger held in a reverse grip. Beside her, Bryn rolled her shoulders. Stones cracked and floated around her like a silent storm, her golden eyes locked on the treeline.
Then he appeared.
A cloaked figure emerged from the mist, tall and skeletal, draped in dark robes etched with shifting symbols that pulsed with dull red light. His face was hidden beneath a silver mask shaped like a screaming mouth, and in his hand he carried a crooked staff topped with an eye-shaped crystal.
Aeren felt his mark sear with pain.
Kaelen whispered, "The Herald."
The figure stopped several paces away and tilted his head. When he spoke, his voice sounded distant and echoing, like a whisper through a cave. "Two awakened. Fire and Stone. The Echoes were right."
Bryn clenched her fists. "You followed me."
"I followed the stench of potential," the Herald replied. "Your power belongs to the one who sleeps. Return it, and your end will be painless."
Kaelen snarled. "You're not taking anyone."
The Herald raised his staff.
The ground exploded beneath Bryn as she launched forward, fists coated in stone. She collided with a shield of red light that sparked like shattered glass, rebounding off it with a growl. Kaelen moved next, flinging a volley of curved runes that danced through the air before striking the Herald's barrier. A low hum vibrated through the clearing as energy swelled.
Aeren stood frozen.
Until the Herald looked directly at him.
"And you," the voice rasped, deeper now. "The Flame's heir. Still green. Still raw. Still...breakable."
Aeren's legs moved before his mind caught up. He flung his hand forward, willing something—anything to happen. A wave of heat erupted from his palm, raw and chaotic, colliding with the Herald's barrier.
The mist ignited into steam.
The Herald staggered back a step. Just one. But it was enough to ignite hope.
Kaelen used the moment to leap behind the Herald, striking low. Her blade sparked off the protective ward, but her other hand planted a sigil against his back. It pulsed once—then detonated.
The Herald let out a low growl. Not pain. Annoyance.
Bryn was already moving again, smashing a boulder into the Herald's side. It cracked against his magic and sent tremors through the earth. The Herald turned, raised his hand, and the staff's eye flared.
Chains of crimson energy shot out, wrapping around Bryn, lifting her into the air. She screamed, fighting against the grip, the ground beneath her feet turning molten from the sheer friction of her struggle.
Aeren ran forward without thinking.
"Let her go!"
His hand touched the burning chains. The mark on his palm flared—brighter than ever before. The chains hissed, cracked, then shattered, releasing Bryn in a burst of light and force.
The Herald reeled back.
Kaelen appeared beside Aeren. "We can't win this fight. Not yet."
"But—"
"He's testing us, not killing us. That should terrify you."
Bryn landed beside them, bruised but grinning. "Then let's give him nothing."
Kaelen slammed a crystal into the ground. It exploded in a blinding flash.
They ran.
Through the fog, the woods, through narrow winding paths only Kaelen knew. Behind them, the forest twisted unnaturally, bark warping, trees screaming in magic-touched agony. The Herald didn't follow fast. He didn't need to. He had seen enough.
After what felt like hours, they collapsed near an ancient ruin deep in the woods—an old waystation from a war centuries past. Vines had overtaken its stone walls, and moss grew thick across broken statues of forgotten heroes.
Kaelen checked her wounds, grimacing. "We got lucky."
Bryn sat cross-legged, her stone magic settling. "We pissed him off. That's more than most ever do."
Aeren sat last, cradling his burned hand. The mark still glowed, but now... it felt different. Sharper. Hungrier.
"What does he want with us?" he asked quietly.
Kaelen looked at him, for once with something close to real fear. "He wants to unlock the Gate of the Forgotten Flame. To bring back Kael'tharan. And he needs the marked to do it. We're not weapons to him, Aeren. We're keys."
Bryn spat to the side. "Then we break the lock."
Aeren looked down at the mark.
For the first time, he didn't feel cursed.
He felt chosen.
And for the first time, he was ready to fight back.