Chapter 7: Secret of the Flames

Ember sat on her bed, her thoughts heavy and tangled. The name Eira surfaced in her mind like a distant echo, stirring something deep within her—something she didn’t fully understand. A strange warmth spread through her palms, so faint at first that she thought she was imagining it. But when she looked down, her breath caught in her throat.

Tiny spirals of fire flickered across her hands, delicate yet alive. The flames twisted and danced in mesmerizing patterns, their soft glow illuminating the dim room. They didn’t burn her. Instead, they felt warm, like a gentle summer breeze brushing against her skin. She held her hands up, staring in wide-eyed disbelief.

“What is this?” she whispered, her voice shaky. She turned her hands over, watching as the flames curled around her fingers, as if they were alive—playful, curious, and completely beyond her control.

Panic surged, and the warmth in her palms intensified. The flames grew brighter, licking up toward her wrists, and Ember scrambled off the bed. She stumbled into the bathroom, her shoulder colliding with the doorframe with a loud thud, but she barely noticed the pain. “No, no, no,” she muttered, her voice trembling.

She turned the faucet on full blast, plunging her hands under the icy stream. For a moment, she thought the water might smother the fire. But instead, the flames hissed and roared, flaring brighter and wilder. Steam billowed up around her, clouding the small bathroom. Ember’s heart pounded as she stumbled back from the sink, staring at her reflection in the mirror.

Her face was pale, her cheeks streaked with tears, and her hair clung to her damp skin. But her eyes… They were glowing. Faint embers flickered in their depths, casting an eerie light that made her feel like a stranger in her own skin. Her chest tightened as fear and confusion clawed at her. What’s happening to me?

The bathroom door creaked open, and Tracy appeared, her expression sharp and expectant. For a moment, Ember thought her mother had come to comfort her. But as Tracy’s gaze fell on the flames curling around Ember’s hands, her eyes widened in horror. Without a word, Tracy turned and fled, slamming the door to her own room.

Ember froze, the memory of Tracy’s fear etched into her mind. The flames in her hands flickered uncertainly, dimming as her panic turned to despair. She collapsed to the bathroom floor, sobbing. “Why is this happening to me?” she whispered. Tears streamed down her face, mingling with the steam that still hung in the air. “I’m seventeen. My birthday is in a couple of hours, and now… this?”

As the minutes passed, the fire slowly faded, leaving only faint warmth behind. Ember dragged herself back to her room, exhaustion weighing down her limbs. She lay face-down on the bed, her thoughts a chaotic swirl of fear, confusion, and anger. Turning her head toward the clock, she saw the glowing numbers: 12:10 AM. “Well, happy birthday to me,” she muttered bitterly.

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Meanwhile, Tracy paced her room, her thoughts racing. The image of Ember’s hands engulfed in flames refused to leave her mind. It’s impossible! she thought, trembling with anger and fear. What did I just see? Fire that didn’t burn her. Fire that moved like it was alive. She clenched her fists, her mind spiraling. Why would Michael bring a monster into this house?

Her anger boiled over, and she stormed into Michael’s study, determined to find answers. She yanked open drawers, pulled books from shelves, and rifled through every hidden corner. Hours passed, her frustration mounting with every moment. Finally, she collapsed to the floor, her head in her hands.

She sat there, shaking with fury, the weight of Michael’s betrayal pressing down on her. He put me in this situation. He brought her here. But as her gaze swept the room, something caught her eye. Beneath the desk, a wooden chest lay half-hidden in the shadows. Tracy furrowed her brow—she had never seen it before.

She pulled the chest out, examining the intricate lock. This must have something about Ember in it, she thought. Her heartbeat quickened as she tried to force it open, but the lock held firm. Frustration surged. She paced the room, clutching the chest, until she remembered the locksmith who lived near the village.

Grabbing her coat, Tracy set out on foot, her determination outweighing the late hour. When she arrived at the locksmith’s house, she knocked fiercely, uncaring of the time. A large man with a thick beard and beady eyes opened the door, his expression annoyed.

“What do you want?” he growled. “Do you know what time it is?”

Tracy thrust the chest into his hands. “Can you open this, kind sir? My daughter’s medicine is locked inside, and I’ve misplaced the key. She’s having an attack—please help me,” she lied, her voice trembling with false urgency.

The locksmith eyed her suspiciously, then examined the lock. “This looks like an advisor’s box,” he muttered, recognizing his own design. He grunted and told Tracy to wait, but she followed him into his workshop, her anxiety palpable.

“You didn’t steal this chest, did you?” the locksmith asked, glancing at her. “You know the penalties for stealing from an advisor.”

Tracy froze, stunned by his insight. “It’s my husband’s chest,” she said quickly. “He lets me use it to store our daughter’s medicine. Now please hurry—she’s very sick.”

The locksmith picked up the tool he needed and carefully unlocked the chest. Tracy’s eyes glistened as she grabbed it, ensuring its contents remained hidden. Tossing coins onto the counter, she fled without another word. What she didn’t know was that the locksmith had noticed Michael’s symbol on the chest and contacted the advisor in haste.

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Back home, Tracy panted heavily as she placed the chest on the kitchen table. Her hands trembled as she opened it, rifling through its contents. Her breath caught as she read the documents inside: Ember was born of the king and queen, a twin to a girl named Eira who possessed ice powers. Tracy’s hands shook as the realization hit her—she had been abusing the king and queen’s daughter all this time.

Fear gripped her. If Ember finds out she’s royalty, I’ll be beheaded on the spot. Her face turned pale as she plotted her next move. She scratched out the king and queen’s names from the birth certificate and erased any mention of Ember’s birthplace, ensuring she couldn’t trace her origins. Once finished, she placed the documents in an envelope and returned the chest to Michael’s study.

Now, all Tracy could do was wait for the right moment to rid herself of Ember for good.