The wind blew harder the moment Caelen touched the ember again. It sat in his palm like a sleeping heart warm but not burning. The red pulsing core throbbed slowly matching his own heartbeat and that was when he heard the voice.
Do you seek fire or does fire seek you?
Caelen blinked. The voice wasn't in the room. It was inside his head. Like a whisper from behind his own thoughts.
He dropped the ember.
It hit the ground with a soft crack and everything stopped. The wind outside died. The candle flames in the ruin flickered once and then stood still as if they too were listening.
Caelen took a slow step back.
"I should leave," he whispered to nobody and bent to scoop up his satchel. That's when the ember rolled toward him.
It moved. On its own.
"Nope," he said out loud. "I've read enough of Old Ma Durren's scary scrolls to know this is how people end up possessed or dead or worse—employed."
Still the ember bumped gently against his boot.
He sighed bent down and picked it up again.
Nothing happened.
No voice. No heartbeat. Just warmth.
He stuffed it into his satchel muttering something about needing better hobbies and began walking back toward the village. His boots crunched on dry grass and forgotten bones. His head buzzed. The ember felt like a secret too loud to ignore.
By the time he reached the outer farmlands the sun had dipped low. Farmers waved but most ignored him. The orphan boy who scrounged old ruins was no one worth remembering. That suited Caelen fine.
He reached the edge of the hay fields where his friend Ellin waited cross-legged on a crooked fence. She was chewing a stick like it owed her money.
"You look like you saw a ghost," she said before he could speak.
"Worse," Caelen replied. "I saw a rock that talks."
Ellin snorted. "What kind of herb were you nibbling out there?"
"I'm serious. The ember moved. Talked. Did a thing. It's in my bag."
She raised a brow then jumped down. "Let me see it then."
Caelen hesitated. The ember pulsed faintly in his bag like it knew it was being discussed. He unclasped the flap and opened the satchel just enough for Ellin to peek.
She leaned close squinted and frowned. "That's just a glowing rock."
"Exactly. Since when do rocks glow on their own?"
She paused then nodded. "Good point."
Caelen closed the satchel and straightened. "I think I accidentally woke something up."
"Like your brain?" she offered.
"I mean ancient magic. Lost elemental stuff."
"Oh. That's worse."
Caelen glanced back toward the ruins. The sky above them was cloudless yet the wind had picked up again tugging at their cloaks. Somewhere far off thunder rumbled. Except no storm was brewing.
Ellin noticed it too. "Okay that's creepy."
"Right?"
"Let's find Sarn."
Caelen groaned. "He's going to say it's haunted again."
"Because it probably is."
They hurried through the outer market past the statue of Earth Mother Yelva which now had a very unholy bird's nest on her head. At the apothecary shop Sarn the village healer stood hunched over a boiling pot that smelled like wet goat and regret.
He looked up saw Caelen and immediately sighed. "What did you touch this time?"
Caelen took the ember out and set it gently on the counter.
Sarn didn't move.
Then he blinked.
Then he picked up the ember with a trembling hand and turned pale. "This should not exist."
"Cool," Caelen said. "Glad to hear I found an extinct object."
"You don't understand," Sarn muttered. "The Flameborne were erased. Not just killed but wiped from memory. Their magic was too wild. Too dangerous. Even the Earth Queen's historians never wrote of them."
"So why do I have a piece of their magic?"
Sarn looked at him differently now like Caelen had grown horns or worse noble blood. "Because you must be one."
Ellin burst into laughter then stopped when she saw Sarn wasn't joking.
Caelen stepped back. "No. That's impossible. I'm just Caelen."
Sarn's gaze turned hard. "There are no justs in magic."
At that moment the ember flashed.
A single pulse.
And every flame in the apothecary went out.
The village slept uneasily that night. Caelen did not. He stared at the ember lying on his makeshift table. It didn't speak again but it did hum softly like a tune half-remembered. He wondered if the voice in his head had been real.
He didn't notice the figure watching from the ridge outside the village.
Clad in gray robes with silver-thread runes the figure watched the boy through a spyglass etched with fire glyphs. Then the figure turned and vanished into the woods leaving no footprints.
The next morning Caelen woke to shouting.
He ran outside barefoot still half-asleep and found half the village gathered near the northern path. A cart had arrived pulled by twin metal constructs—golems shaped like lions and glowing with steam.
Atop the cart sat a man in blue robes his chest pinned with the crest of the Aetheron Academy.
Caelen's heart dropped into his toes.
"Which one of you is Caelen Dusk?" the man called.
Sarn stepped forward warily. "Why?"
The man smiled. "He's just been invited to the most prestigious magic academy in the elemental nations."
The crowd gasped.
Caelen's brain stopped.
"I didn't apply," he blurted.
"You didn't have to. The ember did."
"What does that mean?"
The man smiled wider. "It means the last fire has returned and with it everything our world buried."
The ember in Caelen's satchel flared again this time hot enough to sting through the leather.
Ellin nudged him. "Well. Guess you're going to school."
"I haven't even finished regular school."
"You're about to start the burning curriculum."
Caelen groaned. "That was terrible."
"Dark times call for bad puns."
As the crowd whispered Caelen stared at the man on the cart. The Aetheron Academy was where nobles trained. Where magic was taught like warfare. Where enemies wore smiles and carried knives made of law.
He would not belong there.
He would be hunted there.
And for the first time in his life he would be seen.
The ember pulsed once more.
Then it whispered again.
Do not fear the flame. Fear the silence it leaves behind.
Caelen looked up.
"I'll go."
Sarn's expression darkened but he said nothing.
The man on the cart nodded and motioned him aboard.
As Caelen climbed onto the cart the golems hissed and the village faded behind him.
Somewhere in the clouds above the thunder rolled again.
But there was still no storm.