Chapter 20: Ashes and Echoes

The veil was sealed.

The skies had cleared.

But peace never came.

I stood at the edge of the Heartgrove, my wings folded tight, my flame dim. The sigils pulsed quietly in my satchel, but I barely felt them. My heart was heavy. My thoughts burned.

Seraphine was gone.

Not lost. Not vanished.

Dead.

Telling the Queen Lysara herself, was hard, made harder because she was her daughter, I spok with sorrow and finality. Seraphine had asked to return to Aeloria years ago, after she had Milo. But they said no as she couldn’t bring non fairies through, Seraphine wanted to close the veil and make it safe here, she had faced the ancient force before anyone else—and she had fallen. So, the King and Queen decided that this was not for the best.

I hadn’t cried.

She had burned.

The trees around her bore scorch marks. The air shimmered with residual heat. Even the Fairie Royals kept their distance. A squirrel had tried to approach her earlier and spontaneously combusted. It was tragic. And slightly impressive.

I was the Emberleaf.

But I was also a daughter.

And I was furious, upset and distraught.

Milo approached quietly, his steps careful, his presence steady. He didn’t speak. He didn’t try to comfort me. He just sat beside me, letting my rage fill the silence.

“I didn’t get to say goodbye,” I whispered.

“I know,” Milo said.

“She died alone.”

“She died protecting you.”

I clenched my fists. “And now they want me to do the same.”

Milo looked at me. “You don’t have to.”

I turned to him, eyes blazing. “I’m being hunted, Milo. The Eerie want me because I sealed the veil. The Fairie want me because I am the veil. I’m not safe anywhere.”

Milo’s jaw tightened. “Then we make somewhere safe.”

I laughed bitterly. “You think we can outrun them?”

“No,” he said. “But we can stand. Together.”

I looked at him—really looked. His face was tired, his eyes shadowed, but his resolve was unshaken.

“You’re still here,” I said.

“Always.”

I exhaled. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Then we figure it out,” he said. “One step at a time.”

A silence settled between us, not heavy, but thoughtful. The kind of silence that only comes after fire and fury have passed.

Then Milo added, “Also, I brought snacks.”

“What?” I blinked.

He pulled a slightly squashed pastry from his satchel. “It’s a honeyberry tart. Might be a little warm. Or a little melted. Or both.”

I stared at it. “You brought a tart to a magical existential crisis?”

“I bring tarts to everything,” he said. “It’s kind of my thing.”

Despite myself, I let out a small laugh. It was short, sharp, and surprised myself more than him.

“There she is,” Milo said with a grin.

“Don’t get use to it,” I muttered, but the corner of my mouth twitched.

They sat in silence again, this time with the faint sound of chewing. I didn’t take a tart, but I appreciated the gesture. And the smell. It reminded me of simpler times—before veils and prophecies and death.

“I miss her,” I said finally.

“I know.”

“She was the only one who understood what it meant to carry fire.”

“You still carry it.”

“Yeah,” I said. “But now it burns alone.”

Milo looked at me, serious now. “You’re not alone. You’ve got me. And I’m flame-retardant.”

I snorted. “That’s not a thing.”

“It is if you believe hard enough.”

I shook my head, but the weight in my chest felt a little lighter.

Then the wind shifted.

The trees rustled—not with breeze, but with warning. The sigils in my satchel pulsed harder, faster. I stood instantly, wings flaring, flame flickering to life.

Milo was already on his feet, hand on the hilt of his blade. “They’re close.”

“How close?”

“Too close.”

A shadow slithered across the clearing, long and thin, like smoke with teeth. My flame surged, casting golden light across the grove.

The Eerie had not forgotten.

And the Fairie had begun to fear my power.

I was no longer just a prophecy.

I was a threat.

And Milo—my protector, my anchor—was the only thing keeping me from burning everything down.

“Do we run?” he asked.

“No,” I said, eyes narrowing. “We stand.”

“Right. Just checking. Because running is still on the table, right?”

“Milo.”

“Okay, okay. Standing. Very heroic. Very flammable.”

The shadow lunged.

I moved faster.

Flame met darkness in a clash of heat and shrieking cold. The Eerie creature hissed, recoiling, but not retreating. It circled them, testing, waiting.

“Why do they always hiss?” Milo muttered. “Can’t they just say hello like normal people?”

“They’re not people.”

“Still. A little courtesy wouldn’t kill them. I mean, a simple ‘Hi, we are here to kill you. Not the hissing mean that could mean anything”

My fire flared again, brighter this time. The creature shrieked and vanished into the trees.

“Is it gone?” Milo asked.

“No,” I said. “It’s waiting.”

“For what?”

“For me to break.”

Milo stepped closer. “Then don’t.”

I looked at him. “It’s not that simple.”

“I know. But you’re not alone. You’ve got me. And this half-melted tart.”

He held it up like a sacred relic. I rolled her eyes.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re terrifying. We make a great team.”

I smiled—just a little. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Where to?”

“Somewhere they can’t find us.”

“Like a cave?”

“No.”

“A mountain?”

“No.”

“A bakery?”

I paused. “Maybe.”

They walked together, the forest slowly returning to calm behind them. The sigils pulsed gently in my satchel, no longer frantic. The fire within me still burned—but now, it had direction.

I wasn’t just the Emberleaf.

I was the daughter of Seraphine.

And I would not fall.

Not today at least but with every battle comes doubt and doubt was my worst enemy at the moment.