Chapter 8 The Ash Grove Whispers

The deeper Amelia ventured into the forest, the quieter the world became. Even the wind dared not rustle the trees near the Ash Grove. Her footsteps crunched softly against leaves charred long ago, remnants of the great fire that had once swallowed this land.

She followed the pull in her palm, the heat under her skin leading her like a compass. The trees thinned, giving way to a clearing veiled in mist. In the center, a circle of blackened stones surrounded a scorched tree stump. The air shimmered with residual magic, thick and ancient.

Amelia paused, her breath catching. The mark on her hand glowed like embers. As she stepped into the circle, a surge of energy swept through her, bringing her to her knees.

Visions struck her.

Flashes of the Fire Queen, a woman with burning eyes and hair like flame, standing in that very grove. She watched helplessly as betrayal unfolded: her mate siding with hunters, her pack turning against her, her rage exploding into wildfire.

Amelia gasped, clutching her chest as the vision faded.

"I'm not her," she whispered, though a part of her felt the queen's pain as if it were her own.

Suddenly, a twig snapped behind her.

She spun, fire flaring to her fingertips instinctively.

From the shadows emerged a tall, cloaked, and hooded figure.

"You shouldn't have come here alone," the voice said, low and unfamiliar. "But I suppose fate always brings the flame back to where it started."

"Who are you?" she demanded, fire swirling in her palm.

The figure lowered their hood, revealing silver hair and piercing violet eyes.

"I am the last Guardian of the Flame," they said. "And you, Amelia, are walking straight into a war that's already begun."

Amelia's blood ran cold.

"War?"

The Guardian nodded slowly. "There are those who want your power and those who want you dead before you repeat the past. You're not just marked by fire... You are its rebirth."