Chapter Six: Beneath the Embers
There is a cost to every bond, and the fire remembers every debt.
The cell was colder than it had ever been.
Riven sat curled in the far corner, back pressed against the stone, trying to calm the violent tremors coursing through his body. The magic within him had been quiet for days—but now, it roared.
Like it had been awakened.
Ever since Kael kissed him.
Ever since Riven allowed himself to believe—even for a second—that someone could love something like him.
The flames had noticed. And they were not kind.
His palms had blistered with heat. His breath steamed even in the warm chamber. He hadn't slept—not truly—since the vision.
No. Not a vision.
A memory. Not his own.
He had seen a city swallowed in black fire. A throne of molten gold. A woman with eyes of burning coal, crowned in cinders, whispering his name across centuries.
"Return to me, My Flameborn."
Far above the dungeons, Kael poured over a book he was never supposed to find.
It had taken bribery, subtle threats, and pulling old favors to get it—Codex Ignis. A forbidden tome sealed away in the King's private archives. One that spoke of ancient lineages, of magic passed through blood and ritual.
And of the Heartflame.
"A power born of gods and kept only by those touched by death. It cannot be destroyed, only contained. And when two souls are bound by it—when desire and destruction become one—the fire awakens."
Kael slammed the book shut, heart racing.
It wasn't just magic.
It was a curse.
A bond.
And the more he and Riven gave into it, the stronger it would become—until it either saved them…
Or burned them both alive.
Later that night, Kael returned to the dungeon. He found Riven on his knees, breath shallow, sweat pooling beneath him in a growing puddle of steam.
Kael rushed to him.
"Riven!"
"Don't—" Riven growled. "Don't touch me. I can't control it."
"Then let me."
Kael didn't hesitate. He knelt, pulled Riven into his arms, even as the heat scorched through his armor. Riven shook violently, eyes glowing like twin suns.
"I saw her," Riven whispered, voice hoarse. "The Flame Queen. She called me Flameborn. I think… I think she's trying to come back."
Kael's blood chilled. "Through you?"
Riven nodded weakly. "And maybe through you too. You touched me. You let me in."
Suddenly, the walls of the cell groaned. The torches flickered out.
And a voice—her voice—filled the room, ancient and seductive.
"One heart to anchor, one soul to unlock. The fire remembers. The fire chooses."
A circle of ash spiraled around them, and the ground began to glow.
Kael drew his dagger and sliced his palm without hesitation, pressing the bleeding hand to Riven's chest.
"If you're going to burn," he whispered fiercely, "then we'll burn together."
Riven cried out as the magic surged through him, white-hot and consuming.
For a moment, Kael felt everything—Riven's guilt, fear, power, and longing—as if it were his own. And through it all, a second heartbeat echoed in his chest.
The flames flared.
Then died.
Silence fell.
The torches reignited.
Riven collapsed, unconscious—but breathing.
Kael held him tighter, throat thick with emotion.
And far above the Citadel, unseen by any man, the ancient sigil of the Phoenix burned crimson in the sky—its wings spreading wider than they had in centuries.
Some magic sleeps. Some waits. And some... chooses when to awaken.