The metal door hissed shut behind Lucien as he followed Seraph into a stairwell that spiraled downward into darkness. The temperature rose with each step, the walls around them damp with heat-born condensation. There were no lights, yet Seraph moved with certainty — her steps quiet but sure, each one echoing with purpose.
Lucien tried to keep calm, but everything inside him screamed for answers. Ember-blood. Kindled. Vanta Order. And now, this underground descent into a hidden world? It felt like he was being torn away from everything he knew — though he wasn't sure he minded. After all, what did he have above ground anymore?
At the bottom, Seraph finally pushed open another door. Warm orange light flooded out, revealing a vast underground hall carved from old stone and metal, veins of glowing energy pulsing in the walls — faintly red, like magma in rock.
Lucien froze.
It looked like the heart of the Earth itself.
People stood around — maybe thirty of them. Some wore long, tattered coats like Seraph. Others had armor that shimmered faintly in the glow. A few held strange weapons that hummed with heat. Every face turned toward him.
He didn't move. The silence was sharp.
Seraph stepped forward and said simply, "He's awakened."
A murmuring ripple passed through the group. One tall man near the back crossed his arms and stepped forward. He had a burn scar that ran across his jaw and up into his scalp. One eye glowed faint orange. The other was a clouded gray.
"You brought a dormant?" the man asked, voice like gravel dragged across metal.
"He's not dormant," Seraph replied. "The Ember chose him last night. It burned through three Scorchers before I intervened."
That got everyone's attention.
Lucien frowned. "What's a Scorcher?"
The man approached him slowly, sizing him up like a threat — or maybe a joke.
"They're the Vanta Order's enforcers," he growled. "They burn down anyone the Ember tries to touch. Three in one night? You either got lucky, or…"
He stepped even closer, his breath hot with something more than anger — something like fear.
"…or you're the Flameseer's echo."
Lucien blinked. "I'm the what?"
Before the man could respond, Seraph stepped between them.
"Enough, Thorne. He's here. That's what matters. Let him breathe."
Thorne gave her a long look, then turned and walked back to the group. Seraph placed a hand on Lucien's shoulder.
"You're not alone anymore," she said. "But this isn't a storybook. We don't hand you a sword and say go save the world. Here, we survive — and we fight to make sure the Ember doesn't fall into the wrong hands again."
Lucien looked around. The walls, the people, the heavy air — it all weighed on him. "Why me?"
"Because you burned and didn't die," Seraph said. "And because the Ember chose you. That doesn't mean you're ready. But it means you matter."
A new voice cut through the chamber.
"Then let's see if he matters enough."
A woman walked forward from the shadows. She had short silver hair, bronze skin, and eyes like cooled steel. She carried no weapons, but everyone made way for her.
Seraph sighed. "Of course. Tala."
Tala stopped in front of Lucien. "He doesn't know how to fight, doesn't understand the Ember, and yet you bring him here like he's one of us?"
"He will be."
"No," Tala said. "He'll earn it."
Without warning, she struck.
Lucien barely saw it coming — a blur of motion, a sweep of her leg, and he was on his back before he could react. His breath fled his lungs.
"What the hell?" he coughed.
"This is the Crucible," Tala said. "Not a safe house. You want to stay? You prove you belong. Show me the spark. Or leave."
Lucien's palms scraped against the stone as he pushed himself up, rage beginning to bubble in his chest. He'd been thrown around too many times — by life, by fate, by strangers who thought they knew better.
He stood. "I don't care who you are. You don't get to knock me down like I'm nothing."
Tala smiled. "Then don't be nothing."
She charged again.
This time, Lucien moved.
Instinct guided him more than skill. He ducked the punch, side-stepped the follow-up elbow, and thrust his hand out in desperation — only to feel a sudden burn in his chest, like lightning made of fire sparking from somewhere deep within.
A blast of heat exploded from his palm, not fire but something more primal — a ripple of molten air that sent Tala skidding back across the stone floor.
The room went silent.
Lucien stared at his hand, which glowed faint red, veins lit beneath his skin. Steam curled from his fingers.
Tala sat up slowly, then laughed — a sharp, barking sound.
"Well," she said. "Looks like there's fire in those veins after all."
Seraph approached Lucien, her eyes shining.
"You just kindled, Lucien. That was your Ember awakening — the first true one."
He blinked. "I didn't mean to do that."
"Exactly. The Ember responds to intent, not thought," Seraph said. "Your heart was burning. And it answered."
Thorne crossed his arms. "Hmph. Not bad."
Lucien looked down at his hand again. The glow was fading, but he could still feel it — that hum beneath the skin, that thrum of something old and powerful waking up.
He met Seraph's gaze.
"What now?"
She smiled.
"Now you learn how to use it. Welcome to the Kindled, Lucien Drae. The fire's just begun."
End of Chapter 3