THE HIDDEN FLAME OF LUTHERCHRIS

CHAPTER 8: The Road to Veylar

The path to Veylar was no ordinary road — it wound through a forest older than any kingdom, where even the air seemed to whisper secrets of forgotten wars. The trees were tall and twisted, their roots curling like ancient hands gripping the soil. The mist hung heavy, turning every sound into a ghost’s echo.

Collins walked ahead, silent and watchful. The Ember Key rested beneath his shirt, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat.

Each time it throbbed, he felt something stir in his chest — as if the Flame were breathing with him.

Behind him, Kael and Seris followed in quiet tension. They hadn’t spoken much since the attack by the Remnants. The silence between them was thick — not from peace, but from fear.

> “The boy’s too unstable,” Seris finally muttered under her breath. “If he loses control again, Veylar might burn before we reach it.”

Kael’s voice was calm, but his eyes stayed fixed on Collins. “He’s not his father. We’ll reach Veylar. We have to.”

Collins pretended not to hear, but their words echoed in his head.

---

They reached the edge of the forest at dusk.

Ahead, the mountains loomed — vast and shrouded in storm clouds. Lightning flickered behind them like the heartbeat of a sleeping beast.

At the base of the mountains lay a small settlement, half-ruined, half-alive — Aldrath’s Hollow.

As they descended the hill, Collins noticed something strange.

The villagers all stared at him.

Not with curiosity.

With fear.

A woman carrying a basket crossed herself as he passed. A child tugged on her mother’s dress, whispering, “Mama, his eyes… they glow.”

Collins flinched and turned away quickly. Kael placed a hand on his shoulder. “Keep your hood up,” he murmured. “The mark of the Ember isn’t something they understand.”

They entered the only tavern in sight — The Broken Lantern. The walls were cracked, and the fire inside burned low, casting long, flickering shadows. A few patrons looked up as they entered, but most turned away just as quickly.

They sat in a corner, quiet. The innkeeper brought them bread and broth, though his eyes never left Collins.

---

Night deepened. Rain began to fall outside, tapping softly against the windows. Collins sat by himself near the fire, lost in thought.

That’s when a voice broke the silence.

“You shouldn’t have come to Aldrath.”

Collins turned.

A figure sat at the next table — cloaked, face hidden by the dim firelight. But the tone was calm, almost knowing.

“Excuse me?” Collins asked.

The stranger tilted his head slightly. “The road to Veylar isn’t safe. Especially for one who carries the Ember.”

Collins froze. His hand went instinctively to his chest. “How do you know about that?”

The man leaned forward just enough for Collins to see a glint of silver — a chain around his neck, bearing the same crest Collins had found in the ashes.

“Because I once carried it too.”

Collins’s heart skipped. “Who are you?”

“Someone who should have died years ago,” the man said softly. “Someone your father saved — and betrayed.”

Kael was on his feet in an instant, hand on his sword. “Step away from him.”

The stranger didn’t move. His voice stayed calm. “Still protecting the Lutherchris bloodline, Kael? I thought you’d given up that oath.”

Seris’s eyes widened. “You know him?”

Kael’s jaw tightened. “I know what he used to be.”

Collins looked between them, confused. “What’s going on?”

The stranger stood slowly, the firelight revealing half his face — scarred, worn, but familiar somehow.

“My name is Rylan Thorne,” he said. “I was your father’s brother.”

---

The tavern went silent.

Collins stared, speechless. “My… uncle?”

Rylan nodded once. “He never told you about me, did he? Of course not. He wouldn’t. Not after what he did.”

Kael stepped forward, sword drawn. “Enough, Rylan. Whatever grudge you carry, this isn’t the time—”

Rylan raised a hand. “I’m not here to fight, Kael. If I wanted him dead, he’d be ashes already.”

The tension in the room thickened. Even the fire seemed to dim, as if listening.

Collins swallowed hard. “What do you mean, what my father did?”

Rylan’s gaze softened, though his voice carried pain. “Your father and I both bore the Ember’s mark. But only one of us was chosen to wield it. He sealed my power — my soul — inside this,” he said, pulling out a dark crystal that glowed faintly with red light. “So he could be the ‘savior’ of Veylar.”

Collins’s pulse quickened. “That’s not true—”

“Isn’t it?” Rylan cut in, eyes burning. “Ask your mentor here. Ask Kael what happened in the War of Ashes.”

Kael said nothing. His silence spoke louder than any denial.

Rylan stepped closer, lowering his voice. “You’re walking into the same lie he did. The Council doesn’t want to save you, Collins. They want to use you. Just like they used him.”

Collins felt his chest tighten. “Why should I believe you?”

“Because,” Rylan said quietly, “the thing inside you — the Flame — is calling to me. And it only calls to its own blood.”

The room trembled slightly. The candles flickered, and for a heartbeat, the scar on Rylan’s neck glowed the same gold as the Ember Key.

Collins felt his hand heat up in response. The shard beneath his shirt blazed with sudden light, as if answering.

Kael grabbed his arm. “Collins! Don’t listen to him!”

But Rylan’s voice turned hauntingly calm. “You feel it, don’t you? That pull? You and I are bound by the same fire. And if you go to Veylar… you’ll find out what they did to our family.”

He turned toward the door, his cloak brushing the floor.

“When you’re ready to hear the truth, follow the river north. The Tower of Veylar isn’t what it seems.”

Then he was gone — swallowed by the storm outside.

---

Collins sat frozen, the glow in his chest still burning.

Kael sheathed his sword with a sigh that sounded like regret. “You weren’t supposed to know this way.”

Collins looked up, trembling. “Is it true?”

Kael’s face was pale. “Some of it.”

“Which part?”

Kael hesitated. “The part about your father… and his brother.”

Collins’s breath caught. “He really… sealed him?”

Kael didn’t answer. His silence was enough.

The rain hammered harder against the windows.

Outside, a distant thunder rumbled — but beneath it, Collins swore he heard something else.

A whisper.

> “Come find me, little flame…”

The Ember Key pulsed once, and the candle nearest to him went out.