Chapter 37: Echoes of the Frostborn

Ember narrowed her eyes, stepping forward, her stance firm. "What do you mean, blood must be spilled?"

The cloaked figure remained still, their face obscured beneath the heavy hood. "The Bloodshade Blossom does not grow without sacrifice. It thrives where pain has touched the land, and it demands the same in return."

Callen’s grip on his dagger tightened. "That’s ridiculous."

The figure chuckled, the sound low and unsettling. "Is it? You hold a blade, prince. Are you ready to pay the price?"

Ember glanced at the glowing crimson flowers beyond the figure’s reach. She wasn’t sure what disturbed her more—the warning itself or the way the forest seemed to hum with quiet acknowledgment.

Callen squared his shoulders. "There has to be another way to take them."

The figure shifted, tilting their head slightly. "Perhaps. But the forest does not lie. Take them without offering something in return, and they will wilt before your eyes."

Ember’s jaw tightened.

She had come here for Melanie. For the herbs that would cleanse the poison King Alex had inflicted upon her mother.

She would not leave empty-handed.

But what was the price?

Before she could speak, Callen took a step forward, raising his hand.

"Then take mine," he said firmly. "If blood must be spilled, let it be mine."

Ember whipped her head toward him, alarm flashing in her eyes.

The cloaked figure stilled. "A noble choice. Are you willing to bear its consequences?"

Callen met their gaze without hesitation.

"I am."

And then—the figure moved closer, pulling out a blade of their own.

Ember tensed, heart hammering.

The cost would be paid.

One way or another.

--

Ember exhaled slowly, her heart still racing as she clutched the bundle of Bloodshade Blossoms in her hands. Their warmth pulsed against her palms—alive, as if they had accepted her offering without hesitation.

Callen was still staring at her, his expression unreadable.

“I thought there was no other way,” he murmured, voice laced with disbelief.

Ember glanced at the cloaked figure, who now stood at ease, watching her with something close to amusement.

“There is always another way,” she said simply.

The figure chuckled. “You are… interesting, Fireborn.”

Ember’s eyes narrowed. “You knew the forest would accept my fire instead of blood, didn’t you?”

The figure did not confirm nor deny it. “The forest listens to those who understand its language. And you… are learning.”

Callen let out a sharp breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “I almost gave my blood for nothing.”

The figure turned their hood slightly, glancing at him. “Nothing is ever given for nothing, Prince. The fireborn may have spared your blood today… but the forest never forgets a debt.”

Ember stiffened. A debt.

She met the figure’s gaze. “What do you mean?”

The figure smiled—a knowing, quiet smile—before stepping back into the shadows, their form fading into the depths of the forest.

Their final words hung in the air like smoke.

“You will know when the time comes.”

The silence stretched between Ember and Callen as the stranger vanished, leaving only the pulsing flowers in Ember’s grasp and the lingering tension in the air.

She clenched her fists.

The forest had spared them—but not without consequences.

And whatever price remained, she knew one thing for certain.

She would face it.

The fire crackled softly, casting flickering shadows against the dense trees surrounding their small camp. The tension of the night still lingered, though neither Callen nor Ember had spoken about what had happened with the stranger.

Ember sat close to the flames, watching them carefully. Something felt… wrong.

Callen adjusted his position, leaning back against a moss-covered log. He exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair. “That was unlike anything I’ve ever seen.”

Ember’s gaze remained locked on the fire. “I thought my flames were untouchable.”

Callen turned his head toward her, studying her expression. “What do you mean?”

She raised her hand, willing her fire to rise. It flickered—a weak, hesitant glow.

She frowned.

It wasn’t the same.

“My flames,” she murmured, staring at her palm. “They feel… different. Diminished.”

Callen sat forward, now fully alert. “Is it because of what happened with the forest?”

Ember hesitated before nodding. “I gave part of it away. I can feel the difference—like something has shifted inside me.”

Callen’s brow furrowed. “Can it come back?”

“I don’t know.” Ember’s voice was quiet, uncertain, and she hated how fragile it made her feel.

For the first time, her fire—the thing that had always defined her—felt distant. Like a candle struggling to stay lit in the wind.

Callen was silent for a moment before speaking again. “We’ll fix it.”

Ember looked at him, her expression unreadable. “How?”

He leaned back once more, watching the stars through the breaks in the canopy. “We keep going. We find the Frostbark Root next. And if your fire is truly connected to the forest’s magic, then maybe—just maybe—we’ll find a way to restore it.”

Ember sighed, dragging her knees to her chest. She hoped he was right.

Because if she lost her fire completely… she didn’t know who she would be.

--

The fire crackled, casting soft amber light across their camp as Ember sat in silence, her thoughts tangled in uncertainty. Her flames were weak. The moment she had left the forest, she could feel the shift—a subtle drain on her magic, as though something had taken part of it and refused to return it.

Callen, sitting across from her, watched the worry flicker across her face before speaking. “You remind me of her.”

Ember looked up. “Who?”

Callen exhaled. “Eira.”

The name sent a jolt through her. Her sister. The Frostborn. The other half of their mother’s legacy.

Callen leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “She has never belonged here.”

Ember stayed quiet, letting him speak.

“She was always different,” Callen continued. “Father tried to control her, but Eira has always had a quiet strength. When she was younger, she had nightmares—visions, she called them. She saw things before they happened. She would wake up crying, claiming something was coming.”

Ember frowned, listening carefully.

“I always tried to protect her,” Callen admitted, his voice softer now. “But I wasn’t strong enough. I always followed orders, always did what Father expected. Even when she started to change—even when her power surfaced.”

Ember’s stomach tightened.

“What was she like?” she asked, barely above a whisper.

Callen hesitated, as if searching for the right words. “She is cold, but not cruel. Strong, but not hardened. She never wanted power—she only ever wanted to be free.”**** His gaze darkened. “And now, she is gone.”

Ember clenched her jaw. “Not forever.”

Callen watched her, something flickering in his eyes.

She saw the moment it hit him—the realization that Ember wasn’t just trying to escape. She was trying to bring their mother and sister back together. To fix what had been broken.

For the first time, Callen truly understood her.

And for the first time, Ember understood Eira.