The first thing Ash heard was the crack.

  It echoed through a golden void— the sound of something bizarre and ancient breaking open. Before him hovered an egg, radiant as the sun, suspended in nothingness. Veins of molten gold streaked across its shell, pulsing like a heartbeat. Then the egg cracked again. A sliver broke away, and a roar— ancient, soul-deep, world-splitting— erupted from within.

  Wings of flame burst outward.

  Ash staggered back, though he had no body here— only consciousness, floating in a realm made of a memory that was not his. The newborn dragon uncurled from the egg’s remains, its scales gleaming like hammered light, its eyes burning with intelligent sorrow. It opened its mouth again—

  And spoke.

  "Asharion Veytrix… the last flame is yours to carry."

  Ash tried to speak, but fire consumed his lungs. The dream melted into white light.

  Then, a moment later...

  He awoke with a gasp, drenched in sweat despite the bitter cold. Smoke and ash filled his nose, causing him to cough repeatedly. His ears rang with silence.

  Then the crackling of fire. He could hear distant screams, barely audible. And the bitter stench of scorched wood.

  His eyes widened as they beheld the sight before him.

  Emberfall was gone.

  His home was gone.

  His face was forlorn and lost, the last thing he remembered were the masked men who attacked the village. Then the pain eating away at him then, he blanked out.

  He tried to sit up and found that he couldn’t. Something tugged at his wrists— ropes, tight and rough. He was bound, his back resting against a half-collapsed stable wall. Flames licked at the far edges of the village. Ash still drifted like snow.

  A figure approached through the smoke— tall, cloaked, and silent.

  Moonlight struck her face, revealing silver eyes that glowed like steel under frost. Her armor was black leather inlaid with violet, her hood now pulled back. Two curved daggers were strapped to her thighs. Her movements were fluid, almost inhuman.

  He had never seen a person so white, it looked like staring into the very moon itself. She looked incredibly beautiful but what captivated him was not that but the pair of pointed ears she had.

  He had heard tales of them but never expected to meet one in his life.

  "You're an, elf?" He barely let the words slip out of his mouth.

  She crouched in front of him, her silver eyes staring at him with cold indifference.

  “Name,” she said flatly.

  Ash blinked. “What?”

  “Name,” she repeated, even slower.

  “…Ash.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Ash what?”

  He hesitated. “…Just Ash.”

  She studied him in silence for a moment longer making him feel slight discomfort. Then she spoke afterwards, “Wrong.”

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  She climbed up to her feet and turned her back to him, eyes scanning the shadows beyond the wreckage as if they could come to life at any moment. Something about her posture— poised, calm, and seemingly already to kill— made him fear for his life.

  In everything that has unfolded before his eyes, his brain still tried to find a hold on his sanity but he could feel him doubting himself.

  One thing he could tell...

  She had come for him.

  He struggled with the ropes used to confine him, he felt like livestock rather than a person. “Why did you save me? Who are you?”

  “Keep yer voice down,” she hissed. “The Sentinels will return.”

  “Sentinels?”

  “The ones who burned yer village to the ground.” Her voice cut through the air like a blade.

  Ash's throat tightened. “My friends—Tomas—”

  “Most likely dead,” she said bluntly, a cold indifferent seeping through her voice. “Or worse.”

  He stared at her, unsure of whether to believe or question her. “You don’t even care.”

  “No,” her reply was cold as her nature presumed. “I don’t care about yer friends. I care about you. Because you’re not who you think you are, Asharion… Veytrix.”

  The name struck him like lightning. “What?”

  It was the very same name he had been called in his dream. How did she come to know of it?

  She crouched again, eye level now. “You think it’s coincidence, what happened today? That you survived a blast of flame capable of turning men to cinders? That the raiders flinched when they saw you ignite?”

  He shook his head slowly, forcing his mind to recall the event. “I don’t know what happened. I just… I felt pain. Heat. And then—”

  “You awakened,” she said. “Partially. Not enough.”

  He stared blankly at her. “What am I?”

  She stood again and cut his ropes with a flick of her blade, like they were paper. “We don’t have time for answers. If they find us here, they’ll burn the rest of this valley to ash.”

  “Wait—where are we going?” He cried out.

  The concept of literally everything still took a toll on him. Why would he trust her? Who was she? What did she mean by awaken? What happened to the village? What was happening to him? There was nothing concrete for him to wrap his head around, and barely enough sanity left to contain it.

  She turned away from him to resume her watch. “To the ruins of Solspire. There’s someone who can explain all this.”

  Ash rose shakily, rubbing his wrists.

  She tossed some clothes at him and looked away again, "I picked these up, pretty sure one of em will fit ya."

  Ash screamed as he realised that he had been naked, he scrambled for the pile of clothes. He felt confused as well as embarrassed, he wondered how would have prompted her tie him up while he was exposed.

  Just as he had been told elves were savages.

  “You can’t just expect me to follow you after telling me nothing—”

  He wasn't allowed to finish when a howl cut through the air.

  It wasn’t anything his human ears had picked up before. And it sends the same chill running down his spine as the raiders from before.

  The assassin spun and faced him, her silver eyes sharp and strong. “Sentinels. Three of them.”

  This left Ash even more confused than he already was. "Sentinels? What's a sentinel—"

  Being from the quiet village he had very little idea of the things that existed in their world. The concept of ever meeting any race besides human in his lifetime was non existent to him.

  Shapes emerged from the smoke— armored wraiths, tall and faceless, wearing bone-white masks etched with flame runes. Each held curved glaives that burned black with corrupted fire. They didn’t speak. They didn’t pause.

  They attacked.

  The speed at which they covered the distance between them was superhuman.

  The first one lunged at Ash.

  He screamed, his eyes went wide with fear but before the blade could touch him, the elf girl leapt like a shadow. Her twin daggers flashed through the air, deflecting the glaive in a burst of sparks. She spun low, sliced under the Sentinel’s ribs, and flipped backward with inhuman grace.

  Ash stood there startled at the sight as it unraveled before his very eyes, he had never seen anyone move so fluid and fast.

  “Run!” she shouted at him, breaking him from his reverie. “Move will ya!”

  The second Sentinel advanced from the side while they were distracted. Its movements were just as fluid as the elf's but more violent.

  Ash backed away trying to put as much distance as he could between them and him but he stopped just as he was about taking the first step. His eyes caught a glimpse of the remains of his village in ash and smoke, bodies charred beyond recognition. Then another spike of heat surged in his chest— it came as a shock to him, the dream came back to him. He could picture the golden egg in his chest, he could feel it's pulsing like something alive inside him, asking to be set free.

  He lost his balance and fell to one knee, clutching his ribs as it burned. His mind went into a state of panic struggling to understand why his body reacting so violently.

  The flames came again.

  The elf took one quick glance at him and cursed under her breath, "By the goddess grace..."

  This time, there was no explosion— only a pulse, like a shockwave. The Sentinel nearest to him stumbled, its glaive extinguishing as if snuffed out by the wind. But there was no wind. Its mask cracked. It shrieked in a sound that wasn’t of this world.

  Ash stood, panting.

  The elf took advantage of the brief distraction to slice through the third Sentinel in a blur of movement, then kicked the stunned one toward the burning pyre. It caught flame instantly— howling as it dissolved into smoke.

  She turned to Ash, eyes wide for the first time. “…You’re stronger than I thought.”

  He didn’t feel strong. At least not in the way she meant. He felt broken. He felt like his body, his actions were no longer his. He could still feel the heat in his chest pulsing faintly, he staggered fearing he would lose consciousness again but he did not.

  A part of him wanted to just fall and wake up from this nightmare, while another part of him felt trapped in a world of fire. But which was he truly?

  “Why are they after me?” he whispered. "I want to know why everyone had to die. Why I can do things no human should."

  The elf paused, her gaze on him, her eyes were clear, her face empty and devoid. If she was afraid of him she have no hint of it, if she was truly a friend he had no way of knowing. All he knew was that she knew something he did not know about himself.

  “Because you’re the last of the Veytrix line— and the only one left who can awaken the Flameborn Throne.” She said without batting an eye. "Apparently speaking."

  “The... what?” His confusion wrote itself across his face so clearly that it was hard to miss.

  “No time to explain.” She threw him a cloak and yanked up her hood. “Cover yer face. We’ll cut across the river gorge before sunrise.”

  Ash stomped his foot on the ground. "There's plenty time to explain or I won't move."

  Her eyes worked her way to him and stared at him hard and long before saying. "Humans. Always a pain in the arse." She walked up to him and smacked him on the head with the flat of her dagger.

  He yelped, clutching at his forehead. "Ow! What was that for?!"

  "If you don't move yer arse I'll beat ya up and drag ya myself." She gestured to the sharp side of her dagger this time.

  Minutes later Ash was staggering beside her as they fled the remnants of Emberfall. The village he’d known — the sketches he had drawn, the laughter he had enjoyed, Tomas’s voice— they all lay behind them as glowing embers in the snow.

  And as they disappeared into the forest, Asharion heard the dragon’s voice from the dream once more— quiet now, but certain.

  “You are not alone, Asharion Veytrix. The fire remembers.”