Chapter 5 Marked Before Birth

Kiera stood in the ruins of the Hollow Flame, wind tugging at her cloak like ghost fingers.

The air here didn't feel dead.

It felt watchful.

She stared down at her hands, flexing them. No flame. No power. The Oathmark on her chest had faded completely - and yet, she felt something still burning inside her.

Caelen crouched by an old altar stone, brushing away the ash. "Do you remember your mother?"

The question hit her like a thrown blade. "What?"

"You said the oaths choose you," he said. "That's not random. Blood matters. Lineage. Some are born into the fire before they ever speak the vow."

Kiera's pulse quickened. "My mother died in childbirth."

"So they told you."

She froze.

Caelen stood, brushing dirt from his hands. "There are bloodlines tied to the First Flame. Most were wiped out. But not all."

"You think I'm one of them?"

"I don't think," he said. "I know."

He reached into his coat and pulled out a shard - black stone veined with red, humming softly. It looked like obsidian, but pulsed like it was alive.

He held it out. "Touch it."

Kiera hesitated. "What is it?"

"The heart of a broken oath," he said. "It reveals what fire cannot lie about."

With slow fingers, she reached out. The moment her skin brushed it, the shard lit up - not red, not blue.

Gold.

The light flared, hot and pure, pouring from her fingertips like a sunrise after ruin.

Caelen didn't move. He just nodded. "You weren't just marked. You were born into it. Before the oaths, before the Order - there were the Flameborn."

The light dimmed. Kiera pulled back, heart pounding.

"This changes nothing," she whispered.

"It changes everything," Caelen said. "They didn't try to execute you for a broken oath. They tried to erase a threat. You."

Her mind reeled. "What do they think I'll do?"

He met her eyes, voice cold. "Lead a rebellion. Break the last seal. Unmake the fire."

She laughed once - hollow. "I'm not a leader."

Caelen's stare sharpened. "You will be."

Far below, in the heart of the ruin, the altar stone split - a low groan of magic awakening.

And beneath it, something glowed gold.

Waiting.