Page 5 of Embers to Flames

“The Fire Rites?” I ask.

Alyndra scrunches her face realizing she has already said too much, but it’s too late now.

“Yes,” she whispers. “It’s an ancient ritual performed by our kind every fifty years, at the first sign of frost.”

“A ritual? A ritual for what purpose?”

“Questions like that will land us both in Malon’s cozy cells. I hope you like bread and water twice a day.”

“Come on Alyndra, you know your secrets are always safe with me.” I plead for her to continue.

She lets out a long breath with puffed cheeks, knowing I won’t let this go.

She exhales dramatically, her cheeks puffing out like a squirrel’s. “Fine, you nosy little Human. But if we end up sharing a cell, you’re taking the lumpy cot.” She leans in closer to me. Her whispering voice is barely audible, carrying an air of secrecy that tingles my curiosity.

“It is believed—by our people—that someday the chosen one will be born.”

She quickly scans our surroundings once more, making sure we are alone before she continues.

“The chosen one, being he who will once again ride on the backs of Dragons. Forever protecting us from the plight that is feared to return to these lands. A vengeful creature that can wipe out our entire existence. The ritual is performed every fifty years between the autumn and winter season.”

I raised an eyebrow, trying to stifle a giggle—and failed to do so.

Alyndra’s eyes narrowed. “Mock if you must, but Dragons are no laughing matter.”

“Right, because nothing says, ‘wise and ancient race’ like believing in overgrown lizards,” I snorted, crossing my arms. “Come on, Alyndra. If Dragons were so formidable… then why are they all dead?”

She huffed, practically shoving the new book into my hands. “Shouldn’t you be getting back to Erhorn? Before he sends a search party for his favorite Human?”

“Alright, alright,” I conceded, backing away with my hands up in surrender. “I’m going. But next time, bring me a book about unicorns. I hear they’re great for garden parties.”

Alyndra’s exasperated sigh followed me as I sauntered towards the exit. “See you in a few days!” I called over my shoulder.

I can’t help but open the front cover of the book she has given me and start reading the first chapter before I am even out the door.

As I stroll back towards Kaladis, I can hardly pay attention to where I am walking. My head is already deep into the words on the pages in front of me. A warm breeze lifts my skirt slightly and a shadow from something flying overhead catches my attention. I look up and my mouth gapes open as I take in what my eyes see. A winged man—soaring above me. Gliding towards Kaladis.

That can only be Lord Erhorn’s infamous nephew.

I’ve heard stories of Elves with wings. But never in my wildest imagination did I think I would ever see one. Seems like a creature out of legends rather than reality. The sight of him soaring effortlessly through the sky stirs up a sense of wonder within me.

My amazement quickly turns to panic as I realize I should probably stop dawdling if I am to greet this mysterious nephew at the mansion. Although at the pace he is flying, he’ll definitely arrive there before I will.

Chapter Four

I try my best to sneak in through the door at the back of the kitchen then quickly hang up my coat and knapsack. Nervously chewing on my bottom lip, I slowly make my way towards the foyer, determined not to draw any attention to myself.

However, the door between the kitchen and foyer betrays me with a loud and piercing squeak as I push it open. The sudden noise immediately catches the attention of Lord Erhorn, Lenna, and Ava, who all turn to face me with curious expressions.

My cheeks flush with embarrassment at my belated arrival and less-than-stealthy entrance. The room is filled with anawkward silence as I try to compose myself and apologize for my disruption.

Thenheturns to me.

Those eyes, a striking golden hue, shimmer with an intensity that captures the light like molten metal. Not quite amber, yet not entirely red, they are a mesmerizing blend of both—piercing and radiant, like liquid gold. They stare at me—throughme.

“Dear Uncle, you had told me her name was Rose, but not that she is as beautiful as one.”

I blush at the sound of his voice. Deep and forceful, with a hint of tenderness. I must be in a trance because I barely notice what I should have been enthralled by from the beginning.

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