Chapter 3 The Inquisitor’s Shadow
Morning came grey and cold.
Mist clung to the ruins of Auradyn’s lower quarter as Lyra, Finn, and Eira climbed from the tunnels into a half-collapsed warehouse. The air stank of ash. Somewhere above, church bells tolled slow, measured, and mournful.
“They’re tolling for the dead,” Finn murmured, peering through a hole in the wall. “Half the docks are gone.”
Lyra said nothing. The guilt gnawed at her chest. She could still hear the screams the fire that had answered her before she’d even known how to control it.
Eira crouched beside her, eyes scanning the street beyond. “We can’t stay here long. The Inquisition will sweep this sector within the hour.”
Lyra frowned. “You said you knew Kael Thorne. What kind of man hunts his own city?”
Eira’s face hardened. “The kind who believes he’s saving it.”
Kael Thorne stood on the steps of the Basilica of Firelight, the rising sun glinting off the black steel of his armor. His face was sharp, severe handsome in a way that spoke more of control than warmth.
Below him, a line of prisoners knelt in the soot-stained square. Among them, a trembling dockhand who’d seen too much.
Kael turned to his lieutenant, a pale-haired woman with eyes like frozen water. “The survivor claims the girl burned with dragonfire.”
“Yes, Inquisitor,” the lieutenant said. “He swears she spoke to something in the flames.”
Kael’s gaze drifted to the rising smoke beyond the river. “Impossible. The dragons are dead. Their souls were bound centuries ago.”
“Then how do you explain this?”
Kael descended the steps slowly, his cloak trailing embers. He stopped before the prisoner. “Describe her.”
The man’s voice shook. “Dark hair… eyes like gold. She wasn’t human, sir. The fire”
Kael raised a gloved hand, silencing him. Then, without a word, he drew his sword and drove it through the man’s chest.
The body fell.
“Find her,” Kael said softly, wiping the blade clean. “And bring her to me alive. The gods will forgive the ashes.”
Far below the streets, Lyra jerked upright. Her chest burned—not from fire this time, but from something colder, darker. A pull.
Eira noticed immediately. “What is it?”
“Someone’s looking for me,” Lyra whispered. “I can feel it.”
Eira’s brow furrowed. “The bond’s growing stronger. Dragonfire responds to intent—and to threat. If Thorne’s hunting you, your power will sense it.”
“Great,” Finn muttered. “So now her fire’s psychic.”
Lyra glared at him. “We have to move.”
Eira nodded, rolling up the maps she’d been studying. “There’s an old sky bridge that crosses into the upper district. If we reach it, we can lose them in the ruins.”
“Sky bridge?” Finn said. “The one that collapsed during the Siege? That thing’s hanging by rusted chains.”
“It’s still our best chance,” Eira said. “Unless you prefer walking into Thorne’s arms.”
Finn sighed. “I hate that you make sense.”
They set out at dawn’s edge, slipping through alleys thick with fog. The streets were eerily quiet, every window boarded shut, every step echoing against broken stone.
Lyra kept her hood low. Every patrol they passed bore the mark of the Inquisition—red sunburst sigils painted on armor, torches burning blue-white.
At one checkpoint, they froze behind a ruined cart as two soldiers argued nearby.
“Thorne says she’s touched by dragonfire,” one said. “Can you believe that?”
The other spat. “If it’s true, we’ll burn her before she burns us.”
Lyra’s fingers twitched, heat rising in her palm. Eira caught her wrist. “No,” she mouthed.
Lyra forced herself to breathe.
The fire obeyed but barely.
Hours later, they reached the bridge.
It spanned a deep chasm that had once been a riverbed, now a graveyard of broken gears and fallen towers. The bridge’s chains groaned in the wind, half its planks missing.
Finn stared at it. “You weren’t kidding about the ‘collapsed’ part.”
“It’ll hold,” Eira said, though her tone lacked conviction.
They began across, one by one. Lyra’s heart pounded with every step, the abyss yawning beneath her feet.
Halfway across, the sound of boots echoed from behind.
Eira spun, cursing. “They found us.”
From the far end of the bridge, armored figures emerged—Inquisitors in crimson cloaks. At their head walked Kael Thorne.
His eyes locked onto Lyra instantly.
“There,” he said, voice cold as steel. “The Emberborn.”
Finn raised his bow. “You’ve got a name for everything, don’t you?”
Kael didn’t respond. He simply gestured—and the Inquisitors opened fire.
Bolts of searing light streaked through the air. Lyra ducked as one shattered a plank near her feet, sending splinters flying.
Eira shouted, “Run!”
They sprinted. The bridge groaned under their weight. Lyra felt the fire surge inside her, urging her to turn, to fight.
Burn them, the voice whispered. End them.
“No,” she hissed through gritted teeth.
“Lyra!” Finn shouted as a bolt grazed his arm. He stumbled.
Without thinking, she spun and thrust her hand forward. Flame erupted in a sweeping arc, melting the air itself. The Inquisitors halted, shielding their faces.
Kael raised his sword, and the blade blazed white. He cut through the fire like it was smoke.
“Impressive,” he called across the span. “You wield power that isn’t yours, thief. Do you even know what you carry?”
Lyra’s voice trembled. “I know it was dying. I saved it.”
“You doomed us all.”
The words hit her harder than any blow.
Behind her, Eira reached the far edge and turned. “Lyra, now!”
Lyra looked back at Kael one last time. “Then you’ll have to catch me.”
She slammed her palms to the bridge. Fire roared outward, melting the chains nearest Kael’s side. The structure gave a deafening groan.
Kael leapt backward as the bridge tore free and plunged into the abyss.
Lyra fell to her knees, chest heaving. The heat faded, leaving only exhaustion.
Eira grabbed her arm. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
“He would’ve killed us.”
“He will still try.”
\---
They found shelter in a shattered bell tower overlooking the ruins. Finn bandaged his arm with a strip of cloth, grimacing. “Remind me to never cross you when you’re angry.”
Lyra barely heard him. Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. The fire inside her pulsed erratically, wild and uneven.
Eira studied her quietly. “You used too much. The dragonfire feeds on emotion fear, rage, guilt. The more you burn, the harder it is to stop.”
Lyra met her gaze. “Then teach me faster.”
Eira hesitated. “There’s no ‘faster.’ Only balance.”
Lyra looked out over the city. Smoke still rose in the distance. Somewhere below, the Inquisition’s banners moved like blood through the streets.
She could feel Kael’s presence, distant but unyielding—a dark gravity pulling her back toward the fire she’d started.
“Balance can wait,” she said quietly. “They’re killing for what they don’t understand. If I don’t stop them, no one will.”
Finn shook his head. “You can’t fight an empire with one spark.”
Lyra turned to him, her eyes glowing faintly gold. “Then I’ll become the fire.”
Far below, in the darkness of the chasm, Kael Thorne stood at the edge of the broken bridge. Around him, the air shimmered with heat from the flames that had nearly taken his life.
His lieutenant approached. “The girl escaped. Shall we continue the search?”
Kael stared into the abyss. The faint glow of molten metal reflected in his eyes.
“She’s not ready,” he said
softly. “But the fire inside her will consume her soon enough.”
He turned, cloak sweeping the ashes behind him.
“When it does,” he murmured, “I’ll be there to watch her burn.”