They reached the ruined chapel just before the rain returned.
Lenara stumbled over a fallen beam, steadying herself against the stone wall as Kael slammed the heavy wooden door shut behind them. The rotted hinges groaned but held. Outside, wind howled through broken spires, sweeping ash across the forest floor. Inside, the cold clung to the walls, thick with the scent of wet soot and forgotten prayers.
Kael lit a torch with a flick of his blade. Flame bloomed and danced over the chamber's remains. Cracked altar. Shattered stained glass. A throne of stone, worn smooth by time.
"This place…" Lenara murmured, her voice hushed.
"It used to be sacred," Kael said. "Before the war, before your mother's name was outlawed."
He dropped his satchel, pulled free a blanket and two flasks, and tossed one toward her. She caught it without a word, the warm liquid inside pressing against her chilled fingers.
She sipped. Bitter. Strong. It lit her throat like fire.
Kael sat beside the dying hearth and began stacking fallen wood into a pile. "They'll come by nightfall. We have a few hours."
Lenara remained by the door, watching the window, heart pounding. "How do they track me?"
He didn't look up. "The seal your mother placed on your power it's broken now. They can feel it. Like smoke on the wind."
She turned toward him, jaw clenched. "Then tell me what you know. Everything. No more riddles."
Kael met her gaze and slowly nodded.
"I was seventeen when they gave the order. House Raethwyn was to be purged. Not exiled. Not tried. Erased. The council feared prophecy. A daughter born of flame who would rise from ruin and claim the kingdom in fire. Your mother resisted. Fought until the very last."
"And you were sent to kill her."
"I was part of the team. A commander of the Ash Guard. I believed the lies. Until I saw her—cornered, bleeding, but still standing. She didn't beg. She didn't scream. She gave me a ring. And a name. Yours."
Lenara's fingers brushed the pendant at her neck, now softly pulsing. "Why didn't you kill her?"
Kael's jaw tightened. "Because she looked at me like I was human. No one in the Guard ever did that."
The fire crackled between them, casting flickering shadows across his face. For a moment, she didn't see the soldier—the killer.
She saw a man who had lost his place in the world.
"I was too late to save her," he said. "But I could save you."
"And now what?" Lenara whispered. "You follow me like a ghost, dragging your guilt behind you?"
"I follow you because the council still fears what you are. And because I believe they should."
A chill danced across her spine.
"What am I?"
Kael stood and walked toward her, slowly. He stopped just a pace away. "You are fire reborn. The last daughter of a bloodline made of flame and fury. Your body remembers even if your mind does not. And what's coming next…" His voice dropped. "You'll need that fire."
A low howl echoed outside.
Lenara turned to the door instinctively.
Kael drew his blade. "Too soon. I thought we had more time."
Another growl. Closer this time. Something scraped across the stone walls.
Lenara's hands ignited, flame curling around her fingers like living ribbon. "Then we make them regret finding us."
The wooden door exploded inward, splinters flying.
A cloaked figure stepped through—taller than a man, shoulders too broad, eyes glowing white through a twisted iron mask. Another stepped behind it. Then a third.
Ash Hunters.
"Lenara Flameborn," one rasped. "Your name is death."
"No," she said, voice cold and steady, fire licking up her arms. "My name is the beginning."
Kael moved to her side, blades drawn.
And in the ruins of the chapel, surrounded by death and prophecy, they stood together—back to back, flame and steel—ready to make the world burn again.