The silence after the battle was heavy.
Nova could still feel the warmth of the fire on her skin, but deeper than that was a trembling tension in her chest—a feeling that something ancient had just awakened inside her.
Lucien returned to the warehouse with a satchel slung across his shoulder, his expression tight. "You did well tonight."
Nova didn't look at him. "I lost control. Again."
"No," he corrected. "You unleashed your flame and survived it. That's more than most Marked can say."
She sat on the cold floor, drawing her knees to her chest. "That creature… it called me 'child of flame.' Like it knew me. Knew something I don't."
Lucien hesitated before kneeling beside her. "It probably did. Those things serve the Shadows, and the Shadows remember. They've fought your kind before."
"My kind?" Nova looked at him, her brows furrowed. "I thought I was the first Flamebound in decades."
"You're not," he said quietly. "You're the last."
The words hit her like a wave.
He continued, "There were others. Centuries ago. Warriors chosen by the Flame to defend the balance between light and dark. But they were hunted, betrayed. Wiped out. The last Flamebound vanished after the War of Embers."
Nova's voice dropped. "What happened to her?"
"She disappeared. Some say she died. Others believe she burned the gateway between realms and sealed the darkness away… sacrificing herself to do it."
Nova's eyes flicked to the mark on her wrist. "You think I'm her?"
"I think you carry her flame," Lucien said. "And that means you carry her fate, too."
The silence stretched again.
"But I'm not her," Nova whispered. "I'm just a girl who was trying to finish school, take care of herself. I didn't ask for this."
"I know," he said softly. "But destiny doesn't care if we ask. It only cares if we answer."
Nova stood, facing the cracked mirror still humming with forgotten power. "Then I need answers. Real ones. Not just training sessions and half-truths."
Lucien nodded. "Then we start with your bloodline."
She turned to him.
"You weren't just chosen by chance, Nova. The Flame doesn't work that way. There's something in your family—something tied to the Ember Line."
Nova blinked. "My family's not magical. My parents… they were ordinary."
Lucien's jaw tensed. "Were they?"
She stared at him. "What do you mean?"
He reached into his satchel and pulled out a rolled parchment, yellowed with age and sealed in crimson wax. He handed it to her.
Nova unrolled it slowly.
It was a family tree.
Her name was at the bottom—but above it were names she'd never seen before. Symbols beside them glowed faintly. One name was circled in red ink.
Liora Avaryn.
Her heart skipped. "Who is this?"
"Your great-grandmother," Lucien said. "A known Flamebearer. She vanished during the last surge of Shadow attacks—just like you almost did."
Nova ran her fingers over the parchment. "Why didn't anyone tell me?"
"Because the Ember Line was hidden for its protection," Lucien said. "And now… you're the last spark left."
She stared at the parchment, overwhelmed by the weight of it all. A lineage of warriors, erased. Powers hidden in her blood. A future trying to repeat the past.
Lucien placed a hand on her shoulder. "You're not alone, Nova. I swore an oath to protect the Flamebound. That means I stand with you—even when it gets dark."
Nova looked at him, surprised by the softness in his voice. There was something else in his eyes, too. Not just duty.
Something deeper.
She nodded slowly. "Okay. Then what's next?"
"We go north," Lucien said. "To the Citadel of Emberfall. The last remaining sanctuary of the Flame. If anyone can help you master your gift and survive what's coming—it's them."
Nova took a deep breath, her mind spinning.
The world she knew was gone.
Ahead of her was war, power, sacrifice—and a truth buried deep in fire.
But still, her voice was steady when she answered.
"Then let's go."