Chapter 22: The Prince and the Prophecy

The forest loomed around Ember, the trees thick and ancient, their branches whispering secrets in the wind. She kept moving, pressing forward despite the exhaustion weighing down her limbs. Samantha’s words echoed in her mind—Find the guardian. But how was she supposed to find someone in an unknown village when all she had was a map and grief coiling tightly in her chest?

The flickering flames at her fingertips had long faded, leaving her shrouded in darkness. She had considered using them to light her way, but the fear of being tracked kept her from drawing too much attention. The king had robbed her of her birthright, and now Tracy had robbed her of what little safety she had. She was on her own.

Suddenly, Ember tripped over an exposed tree root, her body crashing against the damp earth. She groaned, pushing herself up just as the sound of footsteps reached her ears. Her heart pounded. Instinct told her to hide, but before she could move, a figure stepped into view.

He was tall, his presence commanding despite the quiet way he moved. The moonlight filtered through the trees, illuminating the strong lines of his face—sharp jaw, high cheekbones, and striking emerald green eyes that studied her with intrigue. His dark hair was tousled, falling just above his brows, and his body was clad in rough traveling clothes that did little to hide his lean, muscular frame.

Ember tensed, forcing herself to stay calm. She had no idea who he was or why he was here, but she couldn’t afford to reveal anything. She had to protect herself.

“You lost?” he asked, his voice deep and steady, devoid of judgment.

Ember swallowed, shaking her head. “No,” she lied, wiping the dirt from her palms. “Just… passing through.”

His gaze lingered on her, his sharp eyes scanning her as if he were trying to unravel her secrets. Then, his brow furrowed slightly. “Your hair,” he murmured, half to himself. “I’ve only seen that color in royal bloodlines.”

Ember’s stomach clenched, but she kept her expression neutral. “I’m just an orphan,” she said, forcing a shrug. “Nothing special.”

Something flickered in his expression—curiosity, doubt—but he let it go. “You don’t belong here,” he finally said, crossing his arms. “These woods are dangerous at night.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” she muttered, dusting off her clothes. She wasn’t about to take advice from some stranger, no matter how piercing his stare was.

A ghost of a smirk touched his lips. “You’re stubborn,” he noted. “That’ll either keep you alive or get you killed.”

She met his gaze defiantly. “Guess I’ll take my chances.”

The man studied her for another moment before sighing. “I’m heading toward the village,” he said, nodding in the direction she had been traveling. “You can come with me—if you’re not stupid enough to wander these woods alone.”

Ember hesitated. She didn’t trust him, but the logical part of her knew that wandering blindly would only lead to trouble. She had no weapons, no food, no direction other than the faint markings on her map. She needed to get to the village—and here was someone who could help her do that without realizing who she was.

So she nodded. “Fine,” she said, keeping her tone indifferent. “Lead the way.”

As they walked, Ember caught herself stealing glances at him. He moved with confidence, his steps assured, and there was something about him—an energy—that felt… familiar. Almost like the warmth of her flames, but different. Protective. Grounded.

She couldn’t dwell on it. She wouldn’t. She had too much to focus on—finding Eira, learning to control her powers, and surviving whatever new dangers lay ahead. And yet, even as she told herself that, she couldn’t shake the strange feeling that fate had already intertwined their paths far more than either of them knew.

And Liam—though he didn’t voice it—found himself staring at the strange girl with fiery hair, wondering why he felt like he knew her, even though he had never met her before.

As Ember and Liam walked through the dense forest, the quiet between them stretched, filled only by the steady crunch of leaves beneath their boots. The tension that had sparked between them earlier had settled, replaced by an uncertain familiarity—like two travelers unknowingly bound by the same unseen path.

Ember kept her guard up, but she couldn’t ignore the strength in Liam’s movements, the way he carried himself with the ease of someone trained for battle. There was an undeniable presence about him—calm, unwavering—like he had seen enough of the world to know what was worth fighting for and what wasn’t. And yet, there was a flicker of curiosity in his emerald-green eyes every time he glanced at her, as if trying to solve a puzzle he didn’t quite understand.

“You move well,” Liam finally said, breaking the silence. “You’ve been trained?”

Ember hesitated, considering her answer. If she admitted the truth—that she had never been formally trained but had learned how to survive through instinct—she might raise too many questions. Instead, she opted for something vague. “I know how to fight when I need to.”

Liam smirked, but there was no mockery in it. “That’s not the same thing as knowing how to fight,” he said. “Survival isn’t skill—it’s desperation. There’s a difference.”

Ember shot him a sharp look. “And what are you, some sort of expert?”

Liam shrugged, unfazed by her tone. “You could say that.”

Ember huffed, crossing her arms. “Fine. Maybe you can show me what I’m apparently missing.”

Liam chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re quick to challenge people, aren’t you?”

“It’s worked for me so far,” Ember said, lifting her chin slightly. “You going to give me directions to the village, or do you just like hearing yourself talk?”

Liam gave her a long, measured look, something unreadable flickering behind his gaze. Then, without another word, he pushed aside the dense foliage ahead, revealing a worn dirt path winding toward the valley below.

“This way,” he said. “It’s not far now.”

Ember followed, though she kept herself slightly behind him, watching the way he moved, the way he scanned the surroundings without seeming tense. He was careful, observant—but not afraid. Whoever he was, wherever he came from, he carried himself like a warrior. And yet, for all his strength, there was something restrained in him, like he was waiting. Watching.

She knew the feeling well.

As they descended into the valley, Ember caught her first glimpse of the village—a sprawling haven hidden between towering cliffs and thick trees, its lanterns casting a warm golden glow against the encroaching dusk. It was larger than she expected, its walls fortified, its people moving about with purpose.

She had made it.

But she hadn’t realized, as she walked unknowingly beside Liam—the prince of this very village—that fate had already begun weaving its threads around them.