The tunnels beneath Velstrae were carved generations ago—meandering veins of stone that once served as escape routes for royalty during ancient sieges. Now, they were disused, buried beneath bureaucracy and ignorance, their entrances hidden behind crumbled walls and rusted grates. Few remembered them. Fewer still could navigate them.
Brisa stumbled through the darkness, dragging Liora behind her. The girl's body was heavy, limp with unconsciousness, her breath ragged. Sweat matted her curls to her brow, and ash stained every inch of her skin. Behind them, the ground still trembled with the aftershocks of the forbidden flame's release.
"Just a little further," Brisa whispered, voice trembling. Her knees ached. Her palms bled from scrabbling over jagged rock. But she didn't stop. Not for the heat, or the echo of distant shouts that grew nearer with every passing heartbeat.
The tunnels were a maze, but Brisa had listened to Kael's instructions with a cook's memory—precise and stubborn. Third grate by the Forge Wall. Two right turns. Avoid the copper-lined shaft. Don't look back.
Liora stirred, groaning.
Brisa knelt quickly. "Liora, can you hear me?"
A weak nod. Her eyelids fluttered, but the glow had faded. No black flame. No terrifying power. Just exhaustion.
"You've got to stay awake. Just for a little longer."
Their path narrowed, the air thick with soot and magic. Arcane veins pulsed faintly in the stone—residual fire wards from decades past. They passed skeletal remains of support beams, twisted from time and heat. At last, Brisa saw it: the Forge Wall's vent, half-collapsed but intact.
She pried it open with a rusted tool Kael had slipped into her apron. On the other side was another chamber—a supply cellar of some kind. Crates and sacks of grain, untouched by the chaos above.
They emerged into cold air and silence.
Above, the palace seethed.
The queen's personal battalion, the Pyre Guard, swept the grounds in waves. The corridors were cordoned. Flames hovered in the air, magical beacons hunting for remnants of the cursed power. High-born nobles gathered in tense clusters, whispering about the servant girl with flame black as death.
Kael's name was listed among the traitors and was captured.
And Riven—absent during the initial interrogation—was now leading the manhunt himself.
Clad in soot-black armor with crimson accents, he stalked through the ruined lower halls, his presence a chill despite the heat. Soldiers stepped aside without needing orders. The air around him pulsed with coiled power, and his eyes, cold and silver-edged, swept over every scorch mark.
"She couldn't have gotten far," said Captain Renhart, a grizzled Flameborne of the Seventh Tier. "She was unconscious when the others took her."
"She burned three Interrogators alive in under a minute," Riven replied, voice like molten steel. "Don't mistake unconsciousness for vulnerability."
He paused before the melted grate Kael had used to cover their escape. The stone was blackened, the sigils fractured.
"She was carried," he murmured. "South tunnel. Third grate... toward the Forge Wall."
"How do you know?"
Riven turned slightly. "Because it's the route I would've chosen. And because Kael is predictable."
He knelt, pressing a gloved hand to the floor.
Faint echoes of black flame still pulsed. Even now, the residue refused to die.
"Send word to the outer districts," Riven commanded. "Lock down the East Gate. No one in or out without being flame-tested."
"Yes, Commander."
He rose and walked into the dark.
Meanwhile, Brisa guided Liora through the merchant corridors of the outer palace. The guards hadn't yet reached this far—their focus was on the upper tiers and noble wings.
They found shelter in a quiet storeroom behind a bakery that serviced the castle. Brisa knew the baker—an older man named Harlic, who owed her father a life-debt.
Harlic let them in with barely a word. He'd already heard the rumors.
"She's the one?" he whispered as he laid out blankets near the hearth.
Brisa nodded. "Please. Don't tell anyone."
Harlic sighed. "I don't owe the crown anything. She stays as long as you need."
Liora remained unconscious for hours. When she awoke, it was with a scream.
Brisa rushed to her side. "It's okay! You're safe."
Liora sat up, trembling. "Kael—he's still—"
"I know. He told us to run."
Guilt strangled her voice. "I left him."
"You didn't. He made sure we could escape. That's what matters."
Liora buried her face in her hands. "What am I, Brisa?"
Brisa hesitated. "Something powerful. Something rare. Maybe dangerous."
"I don't want to be any of those things."
"Too late, love."
A knock at the cellar door startled them both.
Harlic appeared. "Someone's here to see you."
A woman entered, draped in deep brown robes with gold trim. Her eyes were sharp, and her presence radiated calm.
"My name is Sera," she said. "Kael sent me years ago. He asked me to be ready in case this ever happened."
Brisa frowned. "He knew?"
"Not exactly. He said he had a feeling one of these days you will sever a noble's neck clean with that temper of yours so he prepared a scape route for you if something ever happened, but this??." She paused as if taking time to take her all in
Liora stared. "Why would Kael…?"
Sera smiled sadly. "He loves you. That much was never in doubt." A knot formed in her throat, as she tried her best to swallow it away. "You have to live. You have to." As his last word rang on and on in her head.
Liora looked down at her palms, at the faint black scorch marks that no longer faded.
Sera continued. "There's a caravan leaving at dusk. It will take you beyond the Eastern Pass. Beyond that, you're free. But the Shadow Riders are hunting. They won't stop."
Liora nodded slowly. "Then we don't stop either."
Outside, the city of Velstrae stirred with chaos. Posters bearing Liora's face had already begun to appear. Traitor. Cursed Flame. Wanted alive. By Queen's decree.
And somewhere in the distance, Riven watched the moon rise, silver eyes narrowing.
"The Ashborn has begun to run," he murmured.
"And I will be the one to bring her back."