Alina knelt beside the boy, her hand hovering over the blood seeping from his side. Lyra stood behind her, eyes wide, clutching a small flashlight that flickered with low battery.
"What do you mean something worse?" Alina asked, voice sharp but low.
The boy winced. "They call themselves The Flameborn… they don't want peace, they want to erase everything—everyone. Villages, hunters, survivors. They burn everything they touch."
He pulled a crumpled map from his jacket, stained with soot and blood. "They're headed this way."
Back in the village, Elena woke with a jolt. She had dreamt of fire. Again.
At sunrise, Alina and Lyra returned with the boy, who had passed out from blood loss. Ethan helped carry him to the old medical room, and when Elena saw the mark on the boy's neck, her face turned pale.
"Where did you find him?" she asked.
"In the forest. He was hiding… bleeding."
Elena nodded slowly. "I've seen this before. It's a symbol of destruction."
Later that night, while the boy rested, the council gathered. Survivors, hunters, even the elders. Tensions rose.
"We have to prepare to fight," one shouted.
"We don't even know if this threat is real," said another.
Alina watched it all in silence, anger and fear mixing in her chest. She wasn't a child anymore, and something inside her stirred.
They would need her.
The war wasn't over.
It was just beginning again.