She stood directly before the rune-inscribed stone and placedher hand against its surface. A flash happened. Flames burst around her in a pillar of light, and the crowd gasped. Fire spiraled upward, not to devour but to shield. Within the blaze, her silhouette stood proud. When the flames cleared, fire danced along her forearms.
Professor Caelira’s gaze lit with interest. “Chosen. Her fire runs hot. Control it or lose yourself to it.”
Feyra exhaled, her skin shimmering with heat, and walked back, flames still flickering around her shoulders.
“Rhyslan Archer.” Quieter than Feyra, Rhys moved more cautiously, his pale hair falling into his eyes. As he approached the monolith, the fire around him whispered, not roaring. It curled toward him, sensing something deeper, coiled, and patient. He placed his hands on the rock, but nothing happened. Then the runes flared. Flames surged beneath his feet and spiraled upward, like a forge heating steel. The fire surrounded him, then focused entirely on his hands. When the light died down, his fists glowed red-hot, veins pulsing with ember light.
Professor Caelira’s lips curved in a rare smile. “Control through silence. A rare type of flame.”
Rhys nodded, awe in his eyes, then returned to his squad.
Other cadets followed. Vaeryn, who stepped to the stone with steady feet, and whose fire rose in a slow halo but ultimately flickered out. Orion, whose temper had always roared like a storm, found the flame reacting violently, singeing his sleeves before dying abruptly, leaving behind only smoke. Kelia, from another squad, barely made it to the monolith before collapsing to her knees, her tears turning to steam against the burning stone. Some were chosen, most were not. The arena began to smell of sweat and singed pride.
“Thaelyn Marren.”
A low murmur rippled through the cadets above before it was quickly hushed. Brynnek leaned forward from where he sat near Thorne, his brow lifted. “This’ll be interesting,” he muttered under his breath.
Darian elbowed him lightly, eyes narrowed on the arena. “Still. Wouldn’t bet against her.”
Thorne said nothing. He hadn’t said a word since Rhys’ success.As Thaelyn stepped into the light, his arms slowly uncrossed, his gaze following her every movement with a dark, unreadable intensity.
Thaelyn’s lungs felt too small. The air scorched her throat, every breath edged with smoke and heat. As she moved down the ramp, the world narrowed to that single pulsing monolith. Her heart thrummed against her ribs, not from fear, but anticipation, a feral need to be seen, to be chosen, to be claimed by something greater.Let this be it,she thought.Let this be the element that finally calls me.
Thaelyn stepped into the ring. The air was thick. Searing. Her boots stuck slightly to the scorched floor with every step. The Emberbrand flared faintly beneath her, pulsing once, then dimmed.
Thaelyn closed her eyes. Nothing. No warmth. No answering burn. She stretched her senses, searching for the flicker of something awakening.If you’re there, show me. I’m not afraid.
The silence stretched on. Still, nothing. She opened her eyes slowly and stepped forward, hand extended, fingers trembling just slightly. The fire didn’t lash out. Didn’t stir. It simply remained. Silent. Cold.
Why?she wondered.Why not me? After everything.She clenched her fists. Focused harder.I won’t beg. But I will not leave unseen.
Professor Caelira’s voice broke through the heat-haze. “Flame has not chosen.”
The words dropped like a blade. Not cruel. Not sharp. Just final.
Thaelyn’s hands trembled at her sides. She turned, then walked out. Each step felt heavier than the last, like her legs carried the weight of a thousand unseen eyes. She didn’t look at anyone. Only when she returned to the shadows of the ranks did she glance upward.
Thorne was leaning against a pillar in the upper gallery, arms crossed. His black uniform caught the firelight, eyes unreadable. Not pity. Not mockery. Just a long, steady look.
Darian leaned forward, scowling. “He’s staring again.”
Garric arched a brow. “So are you.”
“She’s my girlfriend,” Darian shot back, tone clipped.
Thorne didn’t flinch at the words. But his jaw set tighter. Their gazes locked for a second before Thaelyn turned away.
The trial continued. By the end, only three were chosen by fire: Rhys, Feyra, and Kellen from another squad. The rest, including Thaelyn, remained unclaimed.
When it ended, Professor Caelira stood once more at the edge of the platform, her voice quieter now, more reflective. “Flame is not for all,” she said, “but it sees truth more clearly than most. If it does not rise for you, it does not mean you are weak. Only that your truth lies elsewhere. Flame only answers those who already burn.”
As the cadets filed out of the arena, Thaelyn walked behind her squadmates, silent but burning with a new ache, not for the fire she failed to claim, but for the answer still waiting to be found.
Chapter
Thirteen
The Air Parapet path was narrow, no wider than a dozen paces, flanked by jagged stone meant to keep the wind from claiming the unwary. The wind pressed against the path, never ceasing. It was constantly testing. Thaelyn kept her eyes on her boots. Mist threaded her cloak and stung her cheeks. Somewhere below the cloudline, a dragon’s shadow slid across the fog.
