Chapter 1 The Fire Beneath the Skin

Rain clawed at the tin rooftops of Erevale, washing neon light into dirty rivers that ran through the slums. The city’s upper towers glimmered above the storm polished glass and chrome while down here, in the underbelly called the Ash Wards, everything smelled of rust, oil, and old smoke.

Lyra Veyne worked alone in the narrow space behind her apothecary’s counter, grinding luminous petals into a paste that shimmered faintly gold. The air smelled of crushed herbs and spirit residue. She adjusted her goggles, wiped her hands, and tried not to think about how empty the shop felt without her mother’s humming in the background.

Her mentor had been gone for three years dead in an Ascendant raid. Lyra still caught herself glancing toward the back door, expecting her to walk in.

Instead, the doorbell jangled.

A man stepped inside, tall and rain-soaked, his coat trailing grime. The streetlight behind him threw his face into shadow, but Lyra noticed his eyes first gray, too pale, like smoke that forgot how to fade.

“Closed,” she muttered without looking up. “Try one of the legal apothecaries uptown.”

“I need something they don’t sell uptown,” he said. His voice was low, a rasp of steel on gravel. “Spirit menders. You brew them.”

Lyra froze. No one called them that unless they knew. She glanced up sharply. The stranger was already peeling off his glove. A network of black sigils crawled up his wrist, pulsing faintly with spectral light. It wasn’t a tattoo. It was a curse mark one carved by the Ascendant Order.

“Not here,” she hissed, bolting the door. “You’re either suicidal or stupid bringing that out in public.”

“Both, maybe.” His smirk didn’t reach his eyes. “You can fix it?”

Lyra gestured for him to sit. “Depends how deep the binding goes. Try not to scream.”

He sat on the stool opposite her workbench. Up close, she saw how pale he was, how his left hand trembled slightly when he unwrapped the bandages around it. The curse mark wasn’t fresh it had fused into his veins, dark tendrils threading into bone. She’d seen it before: the Ascendant sigil of servitude.

Her stomach twisted. “You worked for them.”

“I killed for them,” he corrected. “Now they want me dead.”

Lyra said nothing. She just picked up her scalpel and began cutting the sigil’s outer layer, careful to avoid his tendons. Every slice oozed black vapor that hissed like steam. She applied the salve she’d made earlier, a mix of burnt lotus and phoenix marrow. The vapor thinned, turning gray.

“What’s your name?” she asked without looking up.

“Kael,” he said. “You?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“It will,” he murmured.

Lyra ignored that. She focused on the pulse under his skin. The curse fought back, claws of energy digging into her wrist as she worked. Sweat prickled her neck. Her veins flared faintly gold, reacting to the curse energy like it recognized it. She pulled her hand back quickly.

Kael’s eyes narrowed. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” she snapped, wiping her palms on her apron. “You’re free. Now get out before someone sees you.”

He flexed his fingers, watching the mark fade. “That wasn’t a normal purification.”

“I said, leave.”

He rose slowly, gaze sliding toward the glowing vials lining her shelves. “You deal in spirit fire, don’t you? Real flame, not synthetic.”

Lyra’s heart stuttered. “You should go,” she repeated. “The Order monitors for that kind of talk.”

Kael smiled faintly. “Then I’ll make this quick. They’re coming here, witch.”

The word struck her like a slap. “What did you”

Before she could finish, the shop windows shattered inward. Drones burst through the glass in a storm of steel wings, their lenses burning white. Lyra ducked behind the counter as the first spirit bolt exploded, shredding shelves. Vials shattered, spilling glowing fluid across the floor.

Kael grabbed her wrist. “Move!”

They crashed through the back door into the rain-slick alley. The drones followed, firing beams that melted metal and brick. Lyra’s heart pounded. Her hand burned where he’d touched her, veins glowing like molten wire.

“What did you do?” she shouted.

“I led them here,” Kael said flatly. “They wanted proof of the Ashen witch. Guess they found it.”

Rage and fear collided inside her chest. “You bastard”

A drone swooped low, blade wings unfolding. Lyra flung her arm up instinctively. Light exploded from her palm a torrent of golden flame that ripped through the rain, slicing the drone in half. The blast roared down the alley, incinerating everything in its path.

For a heartbeat, the world was silent. Then the flames curved back toward her, alive, circling like serpents before sinking into her skin.

Lyra gasped. The rain turned to steam around her. Her body trembled with energy she couldn’t name. Every cell burned. Every thought blurred.

Kael stared in awe. “You your blood”

She dropped to her knees, clutching her chest. The glow pulsed through her veins like molten gold. A voice echoed faintly inside her mind ancient, resonant, and calm.

“Finally, you hear me.”

Her breath caught. “Who”

“I am Aetherion. The flame you carry. The fire your mother tried to bury.”

The voice faded into the storm. Lyra’s heartbeat slowed, but her body still glowed faintly beneath her skin.

Kael crouched beside her, eyes wide. “You’re not human.”

She laughed weakly, a hollow sound. “I didn’t know I was anything else.”

The sound of boots echoed down the alley. Ascendant soldiers in silver armor surrounded them, plasma rifles humming. Their captain raised his hand. “Lyra Veyne. By decree of the Ascendant Order, you are under arrest for possession of divine energy.”

Kael stepped forward. “She’s not”

The captain’s gauntlet ignited, hurling a bolt of energy at him. Kael deflected it with a flick of his blade, the cursed steel shrieking as it met light. He turned back to her. “Run.”

“I can’t control”

“Then burn everything.”

He slashed through the nearest soldier. Lyra’s pulse quickened, fire crawling up her arms. The air thickened with the scent of ozone and ash. The soldiers opened fire.

And Lyra let go.

Golden fire erupted from her body in a tidal wave. The alley vanished in light. Metal screamed. Stone melted. When the flames died, nothing remained of the Ascendant squad only drifting embers.

Lyra stood amid the wreckage, trembling. The rain hissed on her skin. Kael, somehow still standing, stared at her as though seeing a ghost.

“That,” he whispered, “was dragonfire.”

Lyra backed away. “Stay away from me.”

“You don’t understand what you are.”

“I don’t care.” Her voice broke. “You brought them here. You killed everyone.”

“They were already dead,” he said softly. “You just haven’t realized which side you’re on yet.”

Before she could answer, sirens wailed in the distance. More soldiers. More drones. She looked at the burning alley, then at him.

“Don’t follow me,” she said.

Then she ran.

Through smoke and ash and neon rain, she ran until her lungs burned and her legs gave out. She collapsed beneath an overpass, the city roaring above her. Her hands still glowed faintly, heat radiating through her veins.

When she looked at her reflection in a puddle, her eyes shimmered gold like a creature looking back through her skin.

Somewhere deep inside, the voice spoke again gentle this time.

“They will come for you, child of flame. But you were not born to kneel. You were born to burn the heavens.”

Lyra closed her eyes, her breath ragged. The words lodged in her chest like a promise she didn’t understand.

For the first time in her life, the rain felt cold.

And the fire within refused to die.