The Council of SmokeThe council chamber smelled of burnt parchment and fear.The long table that had once gleamed with the polish of diplomacy now bore maps half-scorched, ink still bleeding into the wood. Candles trembled under unseen drafts, and the twelve councilors of Veyne argued in voices so loud the marble itself seemed to vibrate.“Close the ports!” one shouted. “Before the fire reaches the coast!”“You fool,” another snapped. “If we close them, we starve! Trade is the only thing keeping this city alive!”“The Flame Unbound has returned,” whispered a third. “The omens are clear — this isn’t rebellion. It’s punishment.”The room erupted again.Adrian stood at the head of the table, silent, his gloved hand resting against the hilt of his sword. Kael lingered behind him, watchful as ever, his eyes scanning the room for threat — but the real danger wasn’t steel. It was panic.“Enough,” Adrian said quietly.No one heard him.He raised his voice. “I said enough!”The command crac

The World RemadeThe wind outside the mountain was wrong.It no longer carried the crisp bite of frost, nor the scent of pine. It smelled like rain that hadn’t fallen yet — electric, metallic, alive.Selene stepped through the mouth of the cavern, her boots crunching over shards of crystal that hadn’t been there before. The sky above the Vale was veined with crimson light, streaks that pulsed faintly, like the heartbeat of something vast beneath the clouds.Eryk followed close behind, shielding his eyes. “By the gods…”The valley that had once been green and cold was now something else entirely. The trees below had turned black, their leaves edged with a faint golden shimmer. The river, once sluggish with ice, now glowed with faint warmth — as if lit from below by dying embers.Selene stared in silence. The world seemed to breathe with her, each exhale sending ripples of energy across the land.“It’s beautiful,” she said softly. “And wrong.”Eryk nodded grimly. “The serpent’s pulse

The Path of Ash and SilenceThe road east of Veyne was unrecognizable.Once a trade route lined with orchards and vineyards, it was now a scar across the land — trees turned to blackened silhouettes, their branches clawing at the sky like desperate hands. The air shimmered faintly with heat, though no flame burned. Every so often, the wind carried whispers — too soft to catch, too human to ignore.Adrian walked ahead of Kael, his cloak trailing over the charred earth. He hadn’t slept since the night of the uprising. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Selene’s face — sometimes serene, sometimes twisted with grief — always watching.Kael followed, hand on his sword. “You’ve been silent for hours.”Adrian didn’t slow. “There’s nothing left worth saying.”“That’s not true,” Kael said. “You’re thinking of her again.”Adrian stopped abruptly. The faint mark on his palm glowed through his glove. “She’s close.”Kael frowned. “How can you tell?”Adrian lifted his hand, and the air around

The EmberbornThe wind off the Vale was thick with ash.From the ridge, Adrian could see where the firestorms had passed — whole villages turned to black glass, rivers glimmering faintly under the pale sun. Smoke curled up from the horizon, not from burning forests but from torched garrisons.Veyne was coming apart.Kael crouched beside him, scanning the valley through a cracked spyglass. “Two hundred, maybe three, gathered around the ruins,” he muttered. “They’ve built no banners, no signal fires — nothing of the king’s mark.”Adrian’s jaw tightened. “Rebels?”Kael shook his head. “No. Something older.” He passed the spyglass over. “Look.”Adrian lifted it — and saw them.A circle of figures dressed in black and crimson stood around what looked like a pyre, their faces masked with bone. The flame that burned before them wasn’t like any ordinary fire — it was alive, breathing in rhythm with the earth.“The Emberborn,” Kael said softly. “Rumors said they were gone — burned out afte

The Fire That RemembersThe sky above Veyne was wrong.Clouds moved like torn flesh across the stars, pulsing with a crimson glow that bled into the horizon. Lightning no longer flashed white — it burned gold, too bright to look at.Adrian rode hard across the ridges, Kael at his side, the horses panting clouds of steam into the night air. The wind smelled of metal and ash — the scent of a world unraveling.They had ridden since dawn, chasing the tremors that had torn through the land when the temple fell. But as they crested the last ridge, both men reined in at once.Below them, the Vale of Veyne was no longer a valley.It was a wound.A circle of fire blazed at its heart, spiraling upward like a living vortex, drawing clouds into its center. The air itself shimmered, heavy with heat and static.Kael cursed softly. “By the old gods…”Adrian didn’t answer. His hand gripped the reins until his knuckles turned white. The mark on his chest — the serpent’s sigil — burned through his sh