Chapter 10

Flame-Bound

The descent into the Hollow Flame sanctum felt different this time.

Not colder, not darker, but sharper. Like the air was thinner, more aware. The flames in the sconces lining the spiraling stairwell rose taller as I passed, silver tongues bending gently in my direction, bowing like they recognized me.

Was it the same for the others? Or was it just me?

My boots echoed softly on the stone. I pulled my cloak tighter around my shoulders, trying to ignore the way my hands trembled. I wasn’t sure what I expected from this first training session, fire circles? sparring? Maybe a surprise duel with a ghost made of ash. But this... anticipation, it curled low in my stomach, tight and hot.

At the bottom of the stairwell, the blackstone door opened without a touch. I stepped through.

The circular chamber was empty but for one figure. Gone were the seven robed masters from the initiation. Now, a single woman waited in the center, back straight, hands folded before her.

She turned.

She was tall and striking, dressed in robes of crimson and obsidian that shimmered like burning coals. Her auburn hair was braided in a crown around her head. Her eyes were gold, not metallic, not symbolic. They glowed faintly, like molten sunlight.

“Initiate Bennett,” she said, voice smooth but edged with steel. “I am High Flamecaller Maris. Tonight, your training begins.”

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. “What exactly does that mean?”

Maris smiled, faint and unreadable. “It means you will learn what the Hollow Flame truly is. And whether you can survive it.”

Fantastic.

She motioned for me to step into a wide ring of low-burning silver fire etched into the stone floor. As I stepped across the edge, the heat licked at my boots but didn’t burn. Instead, the flames hummed, a deep, low sound, like distant drums.

“The Hollow Flame is not a gift,” Maris said, circling me slowly. “It is a legacy. A memory older than the realms. A curse, some call it. But it is power, power shaped by will.”

“I didn’t ask for this,” I muttered.

Maris stopped in front of me. Her gaze pinned me like a sword through cloth.

“Few do,” she said. “But fire does not wait for permission. The question is not whether you wanted it. It is whether you are strong enough to carry it.”

She lifted her hand. Fire surged upward, a silver column that encased us both in a dome of flame. My breath hitched.

The fire didn’t burn. It pulsed, alive, aware. I felt it racing through the dome, swirling around my body, coiling into the hollows of my lungs. My skin tingled like it remembered something I didn’t.

“Breathe,” Maris said. “Focus on the second rhythm. Not your heart. The one beneath it.”

I closed my eyes.

At first, all I heard was the roar of magic, like ocean waves breaking against the inside of my skull. But beneath that, softer... a pulse. Not mine. Not entirely.

The fire was singing.

I reached for it.

It responded.

Threads of silver light erupted from my palms, spiraling into the air like ribbons. My breath caught. I felt the heat but not the pain. I felt the flame settle inside me, like a puzzle piece finally snapping into place.

I opened my eyes. The light faded slowly, sinking beneath my skin. My veins glowed faintly, the same silver lines I’d seen after the initiation.

Maris watched, her expression unreadable. Then she nodded.

“That is your beginning,” she said. “But you will not walk this path alone.”

The dome collapsed. Flames receded.

Three figures stood near the edge of the circle, where the shadows had kept them hidden until now.

The first was a tall boy with angular features, silver tattoos curling up the side of his neck like thorns. Fae. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes shimmered with curiosity.

Beside him stood a girl with deep brown skin and tightly braided hair. Her violet eyes glinted sharply, arms crossed, stance guarded. She looked like someone who didn’t trust easily.

The third was quiet. A boy, pale as frost, dressed in black from collar to boots. Vampire. His eyes were dark and unreadable, like he’d already seen everything and filed it away for later.

Maris gestured to them. “These are your peers. Your cohort. You will train together, bleed together, and, if the Flame wills it, survive together.”

The girl with the braids spoke first.

“She’s the new relic, then?” Her voice was cool but not cruel.

“Name’s Riley,” I said. “Not relic.”

The fae boy gave a faint smile. “Better than some of the names they give us.”

The vampire just stared.

“You will come to know one another well,” Maris said. “The trials ahead will not be kind.”

My stomach twisted.

Trials. Plural.

Maris turned and began to walk toward a set of double doors that had appeared in the far wall, hidden behind the fire until now. As she moved, her voice rang out.

“Come. The Hollow Flame does not wait. And neither should you.”

I followed.

And behind me, the others fell into step.