That night, Aric couldn't sleep.
He sat outside the cave, wrapped in a thick cloak, the Emberblade lying beside him. The stars above Ember Hollow blinked coldly, like distant eyes. Every sound in the dark made him flinch.
His thoughts ran in circles. Why him? What did the sword awaken? And who or what had found him at the shrine?
Behind him, Maelis emerged from the cave, quiet as ever.
"You won't sleep tonight," he said. "The flame stirs too much."
"I didn't ask for this," Aric muttered. "I just wanted to live in peace."
"No Emberblade ever had that choice," Maelis replied. "We don't carry the sword because we want to. We carry it because no one else can."
Aric didn't answer. The fire inside him hadn't stopped burning since he touched the blade. It pulsed now, faint but steady, like a second heartbeat.
Suddenly, a shrill whistle cut through the silence.
Maelis turned, hand at his side. "Scouts."
Three figures came from the trees tall, thin, moving with unnatural grace. Their eyes glowed faintly, silver in the dark.
"Wraithborn," Maelis whispered. "Servants of the Veil."
One of them raised a curved dagger and pointed at Aric.
"Give us the blade," it hissed. "Or be consumed."
Maelis stepped in front of Aric, drawing a short sword from beneath his cloak. "You'll take nothing tonight."
The Wraithborn lunged.
Everything blurred. Sparks flew as blades met. Maelis fought like a man half his age, every strike clean and fast. But there were three of them.
Aric watched, frozen. The flame inside him roared.
Draw it, something inside whispered.
"No," he muttered.
Maelis cried out cut across the shoulder, falling to one knee.
Draw it now.
Aric grabbed the Emberblade. As soon as his fingers closed around the hilt, the flame surged through him again hotter, louder, like it was alive.
He pulled the sword free.
A wave of fire burst from the blade, lighting the clearing in gold and red. The Wraithborn shrieked, stumbling back from the light. One of them vanished into smoke.
The other two turned and ran.
Aric stood there, breathing hard, the sword glowing in his hand. Maelis looked up at him with wide eyes.
"You called the flame," he said. "And it answered."
Aric stared at the sword. It didn't feel like a weapon anymore.
It felt like part of him.
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