I've always hated the smell of burning parchment.
It clings to my sleeves like ghostly perfume, a reminder of the libraries I've seen turn to cinders, the scrolls reduced to ash, the names of kings and lovers alike erased by time's careless hand. But here, in this dim Adventurer's Hall, the scent is unavoidable. The clerk's quill scratches across the ledger like a beetle skittering over stone, ink pooling beneath the name I gave him: Lirea Veyne .
A lie, of course.
But then, all names are lies eventually.
"Human, you say?" the clerk grunted, squinting at me over the rim of his cracked spectacles. His voice was rough, worn down like the edges of his swordbelt.
I smiled, slow and deliberate. "So I claim."
He snorted, handing me the bounty slip. "Wyvern hunt. Redridge Cliffs. Captain Kael's leading the crew. Hope you're good at dodging talons."
I tucked the paper into my satchel without glancing at it. Talons didn't scare me. Neither did wyverns. Not anymore.
Outside, the sun sank behind Vaelith's broken spires, casting the streets in amber and shadow. I paused at the threshold of the Hall, letting the wind carry the scent of rain over blood and smoke. This city—once a jewel, now a wound—had seen its share of endings. But endings were never permanent. Not for me.
Not for someone like her .
Kael met us at dawn.
He stood at the cliff's edge like a statue carved from stormclouds, his scarred face unreadable beneath a hood of battered leather. The rest of the crew clustered behind him—mercenaries with calloused hands, mages muttering to their charms, a halfling archer sharpening her arrows with a sound like distant weeping.
When his eyes landed on me, they lingered.
"You don't look like much," he said, thumb hooked near his sword.
I tilted my head, the faintest smirk tugging at my lips. "I don't need to. Only to survive."
He didn't smile back.
We climbed.
The wyvern struck at midday.
It fell from the sky like a thunderbolt—a beast of scaled fury and molten breath. Arrows flew. Steel rang. One of the mercenaries screamed as talons tore through his shoulder.
Then came the fire.
Flame roared down the cliffside, melting stone to slag. Kael threw himself behind a boulder, smoke stinging his eyes. When the inferno faded, he turned to find me standing in its wake, untouched.
My cloak billowed, blackened at the edges but unburnt. My skin bore no blisters. Where the fire should have seared me, it had parted , as if afraid.
The wyvern shrieked, diving again.
Kael lunged, his blade carving a silver arc. I raised a hand, fingers splayed. A pulse of heat erupted from my palm, forcing the creature backward—its wing crumpled, bones snapping like dry twigs.
It crashed to the ground, dead before its eyes could close.
Silence fell.
"What are you?" Kael demanded, his sword still raised.
I looked at him, really looked—past the scars, past the rage simmering beneath his skin. He'd lost someone too. They always had.
"A mistake," I whispered. "Or perhaps… a memory that refused to die."
We camped in the ruins beneath the cliffs that night, sheltered by the skeletal remains of an ancient fortress. The others drank and laughed, pretending the wyvern's death hadn't carved a hollow place in their chests. I wandered alone, drawn to a collapsed archway etched with symbols that pulsed faintly in the moonlight.
My fingers traced the carvings.
These markings…
They matched the brand seared into my soul—a spiral of flame, endless and consuming. Aelira staggered back, her breath hitching. The world blurred. For a heartbeat, I saw another life: a crimson-robed figure standing atop a tower, a circle of hooded cultists chanting around a bonfire that never died…
"Are you alright?"
Kael's voice snapped me back. I turned, masking the storm in my eyes.
"Yes," I lied. "Just tired."
He studied me, his gaze sharp as a dagger. "We're alike. You've got ghosts in your past too."
I smiled faintly, the expression bittersweet. "Everyone does."
But mine never stayed buried.
That night, sleep eluded me.
In the flickering firelight, I stared at my hands—the hands that had held kingdoms and cradled dying stars. I closed my eyes, and the dream came: a mirror of flame, reflections of myself across centuries. Warriors. Lovers. Traitors.
And among them, a man with a familiar face.
My apprentice.
Now lost to shadow.
I woke to the scent of burning incense, though no censer burned. Outside, the wind carried a single word on its breath.
"Remember."
I opened my eyes.
The journey had begun.