Ember Born

Smoke on the Wind

Kael stood in the empty village square, staring at the bounty sketch nailed to the wooden post.

The face of the girl in the drawing looked exactly like Rook. The same sharp cheekbones, the same short dark hair, and the exact same scar running across her left eyebrow. The Regency soldiers were hunting her, offering five hundred gold pieces for her head.

Kael looked down at his own right hand. His palm was still throbbing with that deep, burning ache. The word Ember blood rang inside his ears like a heavy iron bell.

He knew he couldn't stand in the open square for long. If the guards saw him staring at the notice board, they might get suspicious. He pulled his hood low over his eyes, turned around, and hurried back to the stables before Master Grim could notice he was missing.

The morning went by fast. Kael spent hours loading wooden crates, feeding the horses, and sweeping the dusty barn floors. He kept his head down, working continuously to keep his mind off the strange events of the morning.

Around noon, Master Grim stomped into the barn holding a heavy leather sack filled with metal tools.

"Boy!" Grim barked, tossing the heavy leather sack onto Kael’s chest.

Kael caught the bag with a heavy grunt. It was filled with iron hoes, hammers, and sickles that had been repaired in the blacksmith shop earlier that week.

"Take these tools out to the outlying farms near the eastern border," Grim ordered, wiping sweat from his thick neck with a dirty rag. "The farmers paid for the repairs two days ago. Deliver them to Old Man Corvin’s homestead first. And don't waste time looking at the scenery! If you aren't back before sunset, I'll lock you out of the barn for the night!"

"Yes, Master Grim," Kael said quietly.

He hoisted the heavy leather sack over his shoulder and set off toward the eastern edge of Millhaven.

The path to the outlying homesteads was narrow and surrounded by tall grass. These farms were located far from the safety of the town’s wooden walls, sitting right at the edge of the dark, dense forest.

The sky above was gray and heavy with dark rain clouds. A cold wind blew through the tall grass, carrying a faint, strange smell.

Kael stopped in his tracks and sniffed the air.

It smelled like burnt wood and wet ash. It was the same burnt smell he had noticed at the sheep pasture a few days ago.

Kael’s chest tightened, but he forced his legs to keep moving. He needed to finish his delivery and get back to the safety of the town before dark.

After twenty minutes of walking, Kael reached Old Man Corvin’s homestead.

The farm was usually a lively place. Old Man Corvin had three sons and a busy family that raised cattle and farmed wheat. But as Kael walked up the dirt path toward the wooden farmhouse, he noticed something was terribly wrong.

The farm was completely silent.

No cows were mooing in the wooden barn. No smoke rose from the stone chimney. No children were playing in the dirt yard. The front door of the wooden house was standing wide open, swinging gently in the cold wind with a low, creaking sound.

"Hello?" Kael called out, his voice sounding small and fragile in the quiet field. "Master Corvin? I brought your repaired tools."

Nobody answered.

Kael took a slow step forward. He set the heavy leather sack down on a flat rock near the wooden fence and walked carefully toward the open front door of the house.

He peeked inside.

The main room of the house was completely abandoned mid meal.

On the center wooden table sat four bowls of potato soup. Steam was no longer rising from the bowls, but the soup was still fresh, only half eaten. Wooden spoons were dropped on the tabletop, and a spilled clay pitcher of water was still slowly dripping onto the floorboards. Drip. Drip. Drip.

Four wooden chairs were knocked over backward onto the floor, as if the family had jumped up in absolute terror and fled for their lives in a matter of seconds.

"Master Corvin?" Kael called out again, stepping into the doorway.

The house was empty. There were no signs of a struggle inside. No blood, no broken furniture, no scattered belongings. It was as if the family had vanished into thin air right in the middle of their lunch.

Kael backed out of the house, his heart hammering wildly against his ribs. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead.

He stepped back onto the dirt porch, turning around to look at the yard. That was when his eyes landed on the wooden doorframe of the house.

Kael froze.

Deep, horrific gouges were torn into the thick oak wood right next to the entrance.

Three massive claw marks were carved deep into the hard wood, slicing straight through the thick timber as if it were soft wax. The edges of the wooden wood were splintered, jagged, and blackened with thick soot.

Kael reached out a trembling hand and touched the edge of one claw mark.

It was huge. A single claw mark was wider than three of Kael’s fingers combined. The marks were far too big for any wolf, bear, or mountain lion. No wild animal could tear through solid oak like that, and no wild animal left behind scorched, blackened wood.

Whatever monster had attacked the shepherd's flock at night had come to this farm during the day.

Panic flared in Kael’s chest like a wild flame. He turned around, ready to grab his sack of tools and sprint back to Millhaven as fast as his legs could carry him.

WOOF! WOOF!

A sharp, panicked bark shattered the silence of the farm.

Kael jumped, turning toward the sound.

Bound to a wooden post near the corner of the barn was a large brown farm dog. It was Old Man Corvin’s hunting dog. The poor animal was barking frantically, pulling against its rope with all its strength, its eyes wide with absolute terror.

"Hey, boy," Kael whispered, walking quickly over to the dog. "Easy... easy."

The dog whimpered loudly, licking Kael’s hands as Kael quickly untied the thick rope knot from the wooden post. The moment the rope fell loose, the dog didn't run toward the house or the main road.

Instead, the dog bolted toward the outer fence of the farm, barking frantically.

It stopped near a broken section of the wooden fence line, turned its head toward Kael, and let out another loud, panicked bark, as if trying to show him something on the ground.

Kael walked over to the dog, his eyes scanning the dirt near the broken fence line.

The tall yellow grass near the fence was flattened and burnt down to black ash. And right there in the soft, muddy dirt were footprints.

Kael dropped to his knees, his breath catching sharply in his throat.

They were not human footprints. They were not animal tracks either.

Deep in the mud were giant, three toed claw prints, shaped exactly like the marks he had seen at the sheep pasture. Each print was larger than a heavy shield, pressing deep into the earth. The edges of the mud inside the footprints were dry, cracked, and baked hard, as if the creature’s feet were radiating immense heat with every single step it took.

The scary footprints led away from the ruined fence, heading straight out into the dark, misty woods bordering the farm.

Kael stared at the giant, burnt tracks leading into the trees. His body trembled with pure fear. The creature was real. It was massive, it was hot as fire, and it had taken the farmer’s family into the forest.

The farm dog let out one last terrified whimper, turned around, and fled down the dirt path toward the town at top speed, abandoning the farm completely.

Kael didn't follow the tracks into the woods. He wasn't crazy. He had no weapon, no armor, and no magic to fight a monster that could tear through solid oak and breathe fire.

Kael turned around, grabbed his leather sack of tools from the rock, and began sprinting back toward Millhaven as fast as his feet could move.

His boots slammed hard against the dirt path. His lungs burned for air, and cold wind whipped against his face, but he didn't slow down for a single second.

He had to get back to town. He had to warn the guards. He had to raise the alarm before the monster came back for the rest of Millhaven.