Chapter 4 The Scarlet Market
The Scarlet Market came alive only after midnight.
By day, the southern quarter of Caelumspire was a husk of rusted shipping crates and abandoned sky tunnels. By night, it transformed into a pulsing vein of forbidden magic an underground bazaar where outcasts traded artifacts older than the city itself. Lanterns carved from bone glowed like molten embers, suspended by chains above alleyways that stank of spell smoke and scorched metal.
Rin tightened the hood around her face as she stepped into the Market, Elias at her side. It had been only two days since she’d burned the courtyard with a single breath but she still felt raw, stretched thin, as if her skin barely contained the force writhing beneath it.
Dragonfire, Elias had said.
Dormant no longer.
She hadn’t slept since.
“Stay close,” he murmured, his voice low but firm. “The Market isn’t dangerous because of its criminals. It’s dangerous because half the people here can sense what you are.”
She swallowed hard and forced her steps to steady. The ground vibrated faintly beneath her feet with the hum of magical wards woven into the stalls. Some glowed dull red. Others whispered like live snakes.
Rin hated how easily her power reacted to them. Every pulse of magic in the air tugged at her blood like a tide.
“I’m not helpless,” she muttered.
“I know.” Elias’s mouth twitched half a smile, half a warning. “Helpless isn’t the problem. Untrained is.”
He wasn’t wrong.
They passed a row of vendors: a woman selling bottled nightmares; a masked man offering blood-ink tattoos that moved across the skin; a young boy grinding phoenix ash into powder with hands that flickered like candle flames.
But tonight they weren’t here for curiosities.
They were here for answers.
Answers about the sigil burned into Rin’s back. About the monster in her veins. About the Order hunting her for something she didn’t yet understand.
Elias led her toward the inner ring of the Market. Here the air thickened, sweet with incense and something metallic like iron left under a storm.
A low chanting thrummed from the main tent.
“The Oracle?” Rin whispered.
Elias nodded once. “If anyone can identify your bloodline, it’s her.”
Rin exhaled shakily. She had heard stories of the Scarlet Oracle rumors whispered by resistors and fugitives. Some said she was blind. Others that she saw too much. Some claimed she was a relic of the old world, one of the last beings who remembered dragons not as myths, but as rulers.
None of the stories agreed on anything except this: no one left her presence unchanged.
They approached the entrance, guarded by two figures in crimson armor. Their helmets bore no eye slits, only smooth plates etched with spirals that looked eerily like scales.
One guard tilted his head. “Name and purpose.”
Elias spoke before Rin could. “We seek Blood-Seer counsel.”
The guard’s attention snapped to her. She felt it like a physical weight, pressing against her ribs.
“Remove your hood.”
Rin hesitated, but Elias gave her a subtle nod.
She lowered the hood.
The guard inhaled sharply.
“Dragonborn,” he muttered.
The other guard shifted but did not stop them. “Enter. The Oracle has been expecting you.”
Rin’s stomach lurched. Expecting? How? She’d never set foot here before.
But the flap lifted, revealing darkness lit by thousands of floating candles. A path of red petals led inward.
Elias touched her shoulder gently. “Ready?”
“No,” she admitted. “But let’s go.”
They stepped inside.
The inner chamber was circular, draped in heavy crimson cloth that rippled as though stirred by a wind no one else could feel. At its center stood the Oracle.
She was older than Rin expected silver hair braided with black feathers, skin lined with sigils that pulsed faintly with each breath she took. Her eyes were covered by a strip of scarlet silk, but Rin felt the prickling sensation of being watched all the same.
Without turning, the Oracle spoke.
“At last,” she murmured. “The fire returns to flesh.”
Rin froze. Elias stayed close, hand near the blade she now knew he kept hidden beneath his coat.
“You… knew about me?” Rin whispered.
“Knew?” The Oracle laughed softly. “Child, I felt your awakening from across the city. When dragonfire stirs, the very bones of the world shiver.”
Rin’s pulse thundered. “I never asked for it. I barely understand what happened.”
“You did not awaken it,” the Oracle said. “It awakened because of you. Fire does not choose lightly.”
The Oracle gestured for Rin to approach.
Elias leaned close. “If anything feels wrong step back. I’ll intervene.”
Rin nodded, then stepped forward.
The Oracle’s fingers brushed Rin’s wrist cool at first, then burning with a sudden jolt of heat that made Rin gasp.
Memories not hers flashed behind her eyes.
Wings spanning night skies.
A roar that split mountains.
A throne of obsidian scales.
War.
Fire.
Blood.
Rin staggered, clutching her head.
Elias caught her before she fell. “Enough. You’re hurting her.”
“Hurt?” The Oracle tilted her head. “This is not pain. This is revelation.”
Rin’s vision steadied. “What… what did I see?”
“Your lineage,” the Oracle said simply. “You are the last ember of a forgotten brood. A bloodline once sworn to guard the balance between realms.”
Rin’s breath caught. “Guardians? Me?”
“Yes,” the Oracle whispered. “But your blood is only half-formed. Something or someone sealed the rest of your power long ago.”
Rin stiffened. “Sealed? Why?”
“To keep you alive,” the Oracle said. “Full-blooded dragonborn were hunted to extinction. Their unleashed power was too immense… too feared.”
Elias’s voice hardened. “The Order.”
The Oracle nodded. “They believed dragonborn could destabilize the city. That your kind could overturn every hierarchy the Council built.”
Rin felt cold all over. “And they’re still hunting. They came for me. They won’t stop.”
“No,” the Oracle agreed. “Because what they fear most is no longer myth.”
She stepped closer, placing her hand over Rin’s heart.
“Inside you lies enough power to reshape fate. But only if you unseal it.”
Rin swallowed. “How?”
The Oracle’s smile was slow. “Through cultivation of the ancient flame. Through trials you are not yet prepared for.”
Rin’s chest tightened. “Then teach me. I don’t want to be a weapon, but I won’t be prey.”
A faint crackle of heat slipped down her arm her fire reacting to her resolve.
Elias glanced at her with quiet pride.
But the Oracle’s expression darkened.
“Teaching you is not the danger,” she said. “Unsealing you is.”
Rin frowned. “Why?”
The Oracle’s blindfold flared with crimson light.
“Because once unsealed, you will not be hidden. Every Order sensor, every mage, every creature attuned to power will feel your presence like a storm.”
Rin’s throat went dry.
“And the Order will come not to capture you…”
She paused.
“…but to erase you.”
A sudden clang echoed from outside.
Elias drew his blade. “That wasn’t part of the Market’s usual chaos.”
Another crash. Shouting. Footsteps.
The Oracle stiffened. “Oh, child. It seems your choice arrives far sooner than prophecy allowed.”
The tent’s entrance burst open.
A squad of Order Hunters stormed inside silver armor gleaming, spell-guns glowing with lethal blue sigils.
Their leader pointed directly at Rin.
“There,” he barked. “By decree of the High Council, the dragonborn must be apprehended dead or alive.”
Elias stepped in front of her, blade raised. “Over my body.”
Rin’s fire surged, wildfire-hot, begging demanding to be unleashed.
The Oracle whispered urgently, “Rin. If you fight half-sealed, you will burn yourself.”
Rin’s heart pounded.
The Hunters advanced.
Elias braced.
The tent shook.
Rin had only one choice.
“Unseal me,” she gasped. “Now.”
The Oracle’s eyes glowed beneath the blindfold. “Then brace yourself, child of fire.”
The world erupted in crimson light.