9. Chapter 9
R en dreamed of a sky on fire. Winged shadows circled overhead, too large to be birds. They shrieked in unison, not in fear, but in rage . Their wings caught the light with scales that shimmered like molten gold.
Below, a city of stone and starlight crumbled. Fae towers twisted and fell. Screams echoed. In the heart of it all, a woman stood barefoot atop a pyre, hair like embers, arms outstretched. Flames danced around her, but they did not touch her.
She commanded them.
Flames rose behind her like wings, molten and furious. Her arms lifted, as if bringing judgment upon the sky itself.
Ren stood on the edge of a cliff, with a great chasm separating them, her bare feet skimming cracked stone. The air blistered with heat. Above, the creatures circled, impossibly vast, scaled wings beating, their eyes gleaming like simmering stars.
One of the massive winged creatures swooped low, the irises of its eyes gleaming brightly like the sun.
And then, the woman turned .
The woman’s eyes, gilded with age and rimmed in smoke, snared Ren like a hook..
A voice rose in Ren’s skull .
“You are the spark that remembers.”
The woman’s mouth parted to speak. But the words weren’t spoken; each syllable burned into Ren’s bones.
“Fire chooses the worthy.”
The flames surged. Ren’s skin split with heat, the world convulsing in a roar of gold and red. Her mouth opened in a scream that caught fire in her throat. She was burning, truly burning. The ground blazed to life beneath her feet, and the woman raised her hand.
Ren reached back, half in plea, half in desperation.
The moment their fingers nearly touched, Ren woke up choking, drenched in sweat, with the musky scent of smoke on her tongue.
And somewhere deep in the darkness, a whisper echoed:
“Wake, Flamebearer.”
A snore rumbled beside Ren, and she blinked away the dark haze of sleep to find Elira muttering in her dreams. “…no, you can’t train chickens to march……if anyone touches my honey cakes, I’ll throttle them…”
They lay curled in their makeshift cots beneath the sweeping canopy of a massive willow tree.
The cool morning air clung to Ren’s skin, yet her body burned with the flush of the strange dream she couldn’t shake.
No fire crackled beside them; the threat of ogres lurking through the forest had stolen even that small comfort.
Instead, they huddled into thin, fur blankets that Sela lent them for the rest of their journey.
But a shadow stretched long across the camp. A figure stood over Ren, arms crossed, cloak rustling in the early morning wind.
Talen.
He watched her with the stillness of a hawk deciding when to strike.
“What a sight to wake up to,” Ren muttered, her voice hoarse. Her amber eyes met his with a stubborn flicker of dignity.
A corner of his mouth lifted. “I’m beginning to wonder if anyone ever taught you manners. I am, after all, a prince.”
Ren began gathering her things. “A prince for the fae. Do I look fae to you?”
He arched his brow. “No, you look like a brutish, stray vagabond someone dragged in from the woods. But I’m feeling generous today.”
Ren straightened to her full height. “And I’m feeling like continuing on my merry way and never running into another fae again, but unfortunately for both of us, I’m still chained to this delightful mess we’ve got.”
He gave a soft huff of laughter, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Careful. That attitude might get you into more trouble than you’re worth.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time. Speaking of trouble – what the hell did you do back there to Sela’s mother? I felt your magic, so don’t deny it.”
“My magic…” He paused, as if testing the words. “It lets me see into people’s minds when their shields are down. I can reach in, rearrange what’s there, erase memories – even create new ones if I choose.”
“So, you were in her head.”
Talen nodded once. “She was already slipping. I let her see her most precious memories just once more, before she crossed the Veil.” His voice softened. “A small mercy. We all knew she was fixing to die.”
“That’s… gods , that’s crazy ,” Ren managed. “I need a glass of wine. Or rum. Or both.”
Ren shook her head as if to clear it, and stalked toward the trees.
Because what else was she supposed to do with that kind of revelation?
Ren marched off into the brush, pushing away tree branches, to relieve herself.
She lingered a moment, glancing over her shoulder to see if Talen would try to peek, but he was already gathering the blankets, unbothered, as if she hadn’t just snapped at him minutes ago.
Normally, a fae – especially one with royal blood – would’ve beaten her senseless for mouthing off like that.
And now Ren knew why.
Ren exhaled slowly, a chill running down her spine as she pulled up her pants. If his magic could slip into someone’s mind, twist thoughts, rewrite memories – did he even need to lift a hand to break her? He could reach into her mind and remake her without ever laying a hand on her.
She was going to have to be very careful around him.
Once Ren made her way back, a groggy grumble came from Elira’s blankets. Elira stirred, rubbing her eyes and swiping her messy bangs from her brow.
Ren asked Elira, “Are you going to Pyraelia?”
“That’s where I was headed, until I met a band of fae guards with more ego than brains.” Elira heaved a sigh and got to her feet. “I was supposed to start blacksmith training this morning. My master from home sent a recommendation. This was one hell of a delay.”
Prince Talen gestured toward the horizon. “Then you’re not too late. We’ll reach Pyraelia's gates within the hour.”
Ren’s thoughts flashed to the broken look in Sela’s eyes when they left the farmhouse, and her heart squeezed. Even with so little, the younger girl offered them the best she had for their journey, and Ren ran her fingers over the thin fur blankets.
No one moved quickly, their limbs stiff from cold and sleep. Ren folded the furs and caught Talen hesitating, seeming in deep thought.
He spoke with casual calm, but his words cut the morning quiet like a blade, “Your crimes are pardoned.”
Ren eyed him warily. “Just like that?”
He shrugged. “You saved my life. That earns you something.”
Elira asked, “Do you even have that kind of authority?”
“Does it matter?” Then, as if it were an afterthought, Talen added, “Something’s come undone in the outer territories, creatures not seen in centuries or only told in books.” He glanced back at Ren. “The realm needs someone who’s not afraid of monsters.”
Ren should’ve walked the other way, into the trees, into the silence, and vanished. She could disappear again. She’d done it before – ran, survived, hid from the world that took more than it ever gave.
But something twisted in her chest. A pull, like thread tugging on the edge of an unraveling tapestry.
Talen went on. “These creatures aren’t prowling the borders for sport. They’re hunting people. Families.” His jaw tightened. “ Children .”
He let the word hang there. “They don’t just go for soldiers or seasoned fighters; they go after the weak. They dig out the places people feel safest.”
Ren crossed her arms. “Why not ask one of your trained fae soldiers? Surely the crown has no shortage of blades eager to please you.”
“Because the fae have trained their whole lives to follow orders,” Talen answered. “I can tell you have survived by breaking them.”
Her brow furrowed. Although she couldn’t deny her suspicion, she was caught off guard by the sincerity lacing his words. Something else lurked in her mind, too – alarm bells. Was this another game or another manipulation from a royal fae who thought himself clever ?
But his gaze didn’t waver. “I don’t need another soldier who doesn’t know how to fight when the rules are gone.
I’m looking for someone who can do the right thing when hell breaks loose, like it did during the ogre attack.
My soldiers scattered. If not for you…” He exhaled sharply through his nose. “More would’ve died.”
Ren scoffed. “You don’t know a thing about me,” she snapped. “Don’t pretend like you do just because you’ve watched me fight.”
“If it’s coin you want, it’s coin you’ll have.
Enough to vanish to the edge of the realm, to buy your own castle if that’s what suits you.
House Vaerlan is salvaging whatever we have to stop these creatures, and if hiring a half-feral mortal with fire in her veins is what it takes, then I’ll pay the price. ”
Elira let off a whistle from where she was leaning against a tree. “Tempting,” she drawled, voice lilting with mischief, then shook her head. “It’s a shame I forge weapons, I don’t swing them.”
Ren’s gaze narrowed at Talen. “Oh, that’s generous. A castle, coin, and all the gratitude of a court that’s spent years hunting down my kind. Truly, what mortal girl could resist playing hero for the same bastards who’d burn her at the stake any chance they could?”
Talen’s expression sobered. Whatever amusement had lingered on his lips was gone.
“You’re right.”
“Damn right I am,” Ren retorted.
Talen went on, “The court has blood on its hands. People like you have paid the price for generations of cruelty and corruption. I’m not asking you to save the fae – I’m asking you to help fight something worse.
If that means tearing apart the old ways to do it, then so be it. You don’t owe us your loyalty, Ren.”
Ren held his stare a beat longer, searching for the lie, the catch, the trick she was sure would be there.
But Talen didn’t flinch.
“You’ll have it. Everything I promised. That’s not a bribe. It’s a vow.” Talen lifted his hand, palm open, as if swearing before a court. His voice carried conviction. “House Vaelaran always keeps its promises.”
The words landed like steel in the silence between them.
For a flicker of a moment, Ren let herself imagine it .