Chapter 35: The Flameborn Watch

Milo, Zeke, Yuel, Narrin, Talon, and I travelled across Aeloria, seeking those touched by convergence—beings who straddled magic and mortality, prophecy and choice. It was a noble mission, if you ignored the mud, the questionable tavern food,  the storm brewing on the horizon, and the occasional talking squirrel that insisted I owed it five copper coins.

The first recruit was Ellira—a fire-thrower from the Ashen Vale. She had seen me in her dreams, which might’ve been sweet if she hadn’t also dreamt I was a giant flaming turnip. That part she shared with zero hesitation and a completely straight face.

“I thought you’d be taller,” she said when we met, arms crossed, eyes scanning me like she was still trying to reconcile reality with vegetable-based prophecy.

I raised an eyebrow. “Why were you working in a bakery?”

Ellira shrugged, her expression unreadable. “A job is a job. And it was one of the few places I could use my fire without too many questions. People don’t ask much when the bread’s warm and the ovens stay lit.”

Milo, ever curious, leaned in. “How did you figure out you could throw fire... and make bread scream when it’s sliced?”

Ellira looked away, her voice quieter now. “My gifts have always been strange. Unpredictable. Sometimes beautiful. Sometimes terrifying. The bread thing was... unfortunate.”

There was a pause. Even Yuel looked up from his book.

“I tried to hide it,” she continued. “But fire doesn’t like being hidden. It finds ways to speak.”

I nodded. “And now it’s time to let it speak louder.”

Ellira met my gaze. “Only if it’s saying something worth hearing.”

A hawk arrived with a scroll tied to its leg. I unrolled it with a sigh.

Dear Mo,

We are pleased to hear of your progress. Please remember that dreams are not a reliable recruitment method. Perhaps consider a formal interview process.

Warm regards,  The Queen & King of Aeloria

I stared at the scroll. “Do they think I’m running a job fair?”

“I mean,” Zeke said, “you did hire a woman who makes bread scream while being cut.”

The second recruit was Kael, a wind-dancer from the Skyward Cliffs, who could bend air with song. He had also seen me in his dreams—which, okay, one person dreaming about me was flattering. Two? That was starting to feel like I needed a restraining order.

As we trekked through the foothills, Kael studied me with a tilted head and a squint, like I was a puzzle missing a few pieces.

“I thought you’d be more... fairy-looking,” he said finally.

“Well, I’m just a hybrid,” I replied, brushing a leaf out of my hair. “Part human, part fairy. Sorry to disappoint your glittery expectations.”

Kael gestured to his outfit—layers of flowing fabric and what looked suspiciously like bird feathers. “And I didn’t expect you to be so... grounded.”

“I didn’t expect you to be wearing feathers,” I shot back.

“They help with aerodynamics,” he said, completely serious.

I blinked. “Really?”

Milo leaned in from behind me, grinning. “He’s serious. He tested it with a leaf blower.”

Kael nodded solemnly. “It was a spiritual experience. I achieved lift for three whole seconds.”

“Great,” I muttered. “We’ve recruited a sentient kite.”

Kael raised a hand, as if to clarify. “I don’t just sing to the wind. I sing with it.”

“Totally different,” Yuel added, deadpan, without looking up from his book.

Next came Thess, a stone-shaper from the Deep Earth, who had once sealed the Dead Forest with her bare hands. We found her meditating in a cave surrounded by floating boulders and one very confused goat that kept trying to eat her aura.

I approached cautiously. “Thess?”

She opened one eye, slowly, like she was deciding whether I was worth the effort. “You’re late.”

“I didn’t know we had an appointment,” I said.

“You didn’t,” she replied. “The rocks did.”

Milo leaned in, whispering, “I think she’s joking.”

Thess stood, cracking her knuckles with the sound of tectonic plates shifting. “I never joke.”

Narrin, watching from a safe distance, muttered, “She’s going to be a riot at parties.”

The goat bleated, possibly in agreement—or existential dread.

Another hawk. Another scroll.

Dear Mo,

We commend your dedication. Please note that cave-dwelling individuals or wind talkers may require reintegration training. Additionally, goats are not officially designated mascots. Please remember that in the future. We are creating a Watch not lost and found.

Cleanliness is next to Royal acceptance. Do remember this.

Warm regards, The Queen & King of Aeloria

I groaned. “Do they think I’m collecting woodland creatures?”

“I mean,” Talon said, “we do have a goat now.”

The goat bleated in agreement.

Then came Lira, a water-weaver from the Sapphire Coast. She had lost her family to the old prophecy and vowed to rewrite fate—preferably with fewer tragic drownings and more dramatic wave entrances.

We found her standing in the ocean, arms raised, waves swirling around her like dancers at a very moody masquerade. It was majestic. It was mysterious. It was also soaking Milo’s boots.

I waded in, trying not to trip over a crab. “Lira?”

She turned slowly, eyes glowing like moonlight on deep water. “You’re the one who changed everything.”

“I’m the one who tried,” I said, brushing seaweed off my shoulder.

Lira stepped forward, water parting around her like she was auditioning for a divine role. “Then I’ll try with you.”

Behind us, Milo slipped on a jellyfish and let out a scream that echoed across the bay.

“Very majestic,” Zeke said dryly. “Really sells the moment.”

Just then, the goat wandered onto the beach, bleated loudly, and stared at Lira like she owed it money.

Lira didn’t flinch. “Ignore the goat. He’s judgmental.”

The goat bleated again, louder this time.

“I think he’s judging me now,” Milo said, still trying to wring out his sock.

“Good,” Yuel muttered. “Someone has to.”