“Move aside, Guide Fenn.” Bran’s voice was firm. “You said it yourself. He deserves this. Whatever hold he has on Rynna dies with him. We’ll all be free once he’s gone.”
Rynna forced herself forward, her limbs shaking as she fought to rise. “Stop—!”
But they didn’t hear her. Bran and Fenn remained locked in a silent standoff, neither flinching.
“He’s done something to them.” Taren’s hand slid to the hilt of his sword. “Best we end this quickly.”
“No!” Her voice ripped free this time.
She reached Fenn’s leg, gripping it with both hands as she hauled herself upright, gasping. “He didn’t do it. Hesavedthe boy.”
Bran flinched, and Fenn turned, but Taren only narrowed his eyes.
“Lies,” he growled.
But the fire faltered.
Bran’s brow furrowed, and the glow around him dimmed.
“That’s…” Rynna swallowed hard, fighting to steady the whirl of memory unraveling inside her. “That’s where we met. The Hearth. After I left…he showed me the memory. It was under attack. Mira—your grandmother—she gave him Ben. Gave him your father. To protect.”
The silence split open between them.
“We lived there for years,” she said, pressing a fist to her chest as more and more pieces fell into place. “It was a sanctuary. Nearly everyone there wielded fire—pure, unbroken elemental fire. Warriors. Protectors.”
Her mouth quirked with the ghost of a smile. “But that boy…”
She turned toward Kaelith.
He hadn’t moved—not once since the fire had begun to crawl toward him—but now his chin dipped just slightly.
A single drop welled in his eye, tracking silently down the harsh line of his cheek.
“That boy was always getting into trouble.” Her hand lowered, brushing the wetness away with the back of her fingers. “And he’d only come to Uncle Kae for healing. Because he didn’t trust anyone else to touch his fire.”
She let her hand fall to her side.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.For thinking you could’ve hurt him. Even for a second.
It’s not like you haven’t seen me do worse.His fingers lifted, touching the space where her hand had skimmed his cheek.I am a monster, Rynna. Your love doesn’t change that.
Then, aloud, he sniffed once and straightened. “Well,” he said, his tone slipping back into something casual, almost flippant. “Kill me or not.”
He reached back, gathering his long ponytail and flipping it neatly over his shoulder, the motion practiced.
“Either way, it’s not like the world’s going to save itself.”
Chapter fifty
Thewindtoreather hair as Hika’s wings beat the sky, each stroke carrying them forward over a world blurred into patchworked shadow.
“He lost control of the fire when your mother died giving birth, Bran. That’s how you came into this world.”
Fenn’s voice was quiet, rough with memory.
“The flames consumed half the Reach before they settled in you. Entire blocks turned to ash.”
Elara’s arms slid around Bran’s shoulders, holding him from behind, as the Great Phoenix soared through the night toward the nearest Waygate.
