(Malveth POV)
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Deep beneath the Hollow Mountains, firelight flickered through ancient stone halls. Not from torches—but from living flames.
They danced through the air like spirits, weaving between children as they trained with wooden blades, lifted weights, and recited spells in trembling voices.
Each child bore a mark—a glowing ember over their hearts. The Flameborn Seal.
And at the center of them all stood Malveth, arms crossed, watching in silence.
> "Again," she said, voice firm.
The children bowed, then resumed their drills. Fast. Sharp. Synchronized.
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A little girl tripped.
Her knees scraped. She winced—but got up without a sound.
Malveth's lips quirked upward.
> "Good," she murmured. "Pain teaches. But rising from it… that is strength."
A boy rushed to help the girl. He had no right arm—burned away years ago before Malveth saved him. Now he trained harder than any of them.
She knelt beside them both.
> "When the world cast you aside, who reached out?"
> "You did, Lady Flame," they said in unison.
> "And when it turns on you again?"
> "We will burn it for you!"
Malveth smiled—gently. Almost sadly.
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Later that night, Malveth sat at the great brazier, her love interest standing nearby.
> "They'll fight for you soon," he said. "Kill for you."
> "They shouldn't have to," she replied. "But the world doesn't change without blood."
He hesitated. "You still think he's different? This... Serian?"
She looked into the flames.
> "He saved a village under my flame."
> "He might destroy everything you've built."
> "Or he might become its protector."
Her voice softened.
> "Even in another life... he never hated me."
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Far away, Serian sat in his tent, staring at his hands.
They trembled—not with fear, but confusion.
And longing.
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