Page 52 of A Storm of Fire and Ash

The dream shifted, distant and weightless.

Shadows bled into the light, and the world around me shimmered like a half-forgotten memory.

Voices whispered in a language I almost understood, echoing from nowhere and everywhere at once.

Colors swirled—gold, silver, and deep crimson—blurring the edges of reality.

I reached for something, someone, but the air slipped through my fingers, dissolving into mist. The ground beneath me didn’t feel real, the sky above too vast, too strange.

The air hummed with an unearthly vibration, pulling me forward even as it receded like a tide.

Every step was like walking through a thought I couldn’t quite hold onto, a memory that belonged to someone else.

And then I saw it. My eyes. Exactly the same mismatched colors, but they didn’t feel like they were mine. They just looked right back at me.

Boiling heat crashed over me.

I gasped awake, the scream catching in my throat as scalding water poured down my shoulders, chest, and arms. The smell of my own skin cooking hit me before I could even register the pain. My flesh reddened, bubbled, split—raw and weeping.

I wasn’t healing as fast as I should be. Not with this silver around my neck. Not with the walls themselves pressing in, poisoning the air I breathed. The magic in my blood couldn’t knit my flesh back together—not here.

The burns throbbed in deep, jagged pulses. Each movement scraped blistered skin against the barbed wire, tearing it open again so fresh blood mingled with the scalds. The pain was a living thing, biting and clawing at me from the inside out, making my vision shudder at the edges.

Faylinn was there again, her shadow stretched long across the floor as steam curled from my scalded skin in thin, ghostly ribbons. She tilted her head, eyes glinting with cruel delight, and the corners of her mouth curled into a smile that made my stomach churn.

“You know,” she purred, her voice dripping with mock sympathy, “it was laughably easy. Killing your pathetic human lover and then Yara. They begged for their lives.” Her smirk widened.

“But your father—” she let the pause drag, savoring it.

“he didn’t beg. He fought. Oh, and what a fight it was… before he broke.”

“You fucking—” The curse ripped from my throat, but I didn’t finish.

Her hand moved faster than I could flinch. The hammer came down with a sickening crunch on my fingers.

I screamed.

I couldn’t do this. Couldn’t go through any more pain.

The mangled bones in my hand began knitting themselves back together slowly, each throb of healing drew the Queen’s gaze.

Her lips curled into a smile as she watched.

“Oh… this is going to be delightful!” she squealed.

“I’ll peel the skin from your body, strip you raw and watch you bleed out…

just so I can see you mend. Then I’ll do it again.

And again.” Her voice dropped to a venomous whisper; her eyes whispered with hunger.

“All the while, I’ll drink down every drop of your magic until there’s nothing left of you but screams.”

“W-why!? T-they were innocent!” I screamed as if I could bring them back.

“They simply knew too much. You’re lucky I don’t kill the blonde one too. But the King wants her for his own amusement.”

Kalista.

She lifted the hammer again and smashed the same hand—once, twice, three times.

Pain detonated in my hand, white-hot and blinding, shooting up my arm and into my skull.

I screamed until my voice shredded; my body buckled against my restraints.

Bones splintered under my skin, jagged edges grinding together with every twitch.

The world swam, black creeping in at the edges of my vision, and for one blissful second, I almost welcomed unconsciousness.

Rage filled in her blood-lust eyes. “Who sent you!? What were you supposed to do? Are there more Elementara?”

I shook my head, breath coming in ragged gasps. “No… one…sent…”

Her hand flashed, but it wasn’t my face she went for—her boot slammed sideways into my knee with a sickening crunch, the joint twisted at an angle no human—or Fae—should bend.

Fire tore through my leg, shards of bone grinded against each other as I screamed, the sound strangled by the tang of blood that flooded my mouth.

Faylinn crouched, her fingers curled around my shattered knee, and with deliberate slowness, she pushed.

The bone shifted, scraping through the muscle, the tearing wet and obscene.

I sobbed, vision swimming—then she leaned in and bit down hard into the exposed flesh, ripping away a strip of skin like she was savoring a meal.

My stomach lurched violently. The pain, the heat, the sight of her lips smeared red—my body couldn’t hold on any longer. My body sagged against the restraints. And then, mercifully, everything went black.

The darkness was deep this time—no light, no sound, only the faint thrum of magic somewhere far away.

Am I dead?

“You’re still here, Flameborn,” Misun’s voice came low, steady, rumbling like distant thunder.

My throat felt too tight to answer right away. “Why… why isn’t the silver burning my neck anymore?”

“Because I’m trying to use as much magic as possible to heal you,” he said, each word threaded with strain. “I’ve never felt you closer than I do now. I think… you’re near me.”

I wanted to reach for him, but I didn’t know how in this place that wasn’t quite real.

His deep voice softened, but there was an edge of warning. “You must make a choice to take a chance, or your life will never change.”

My brow furrowed. “And if I can’t?”

“The moment you stop chasing… the right things start arriving.”

I understood everything he was saying, but the only thing I wanted at this moment was Mother.

Suddenly his words from before came flooding back. I remembered Misun’s voice echoing in my mind: “Why can I summon Mage Hand?” I asked.

“Because, Flameborn. Dragon blood runs in your veins—the same blood first awakened by the arcane flame. Only those of that pure lineage can command such power.”

Misun’s tone deepened. “The Arcane Flame isn’t some tale.

It was the first fire—born from dragon breath when the world was nothing but dark and dust. All magic rose from that spark, but only our blood stayed bound to it.

That’s why you can summon Mage Hand. Because whether you like it or not, you’ve got dragon fire in your veins. ”

Dragon fire in my veins. Gods, no wonder everything inside me always felt like it was burning to get out.

“You once said you were a guardian of a gate. Where spirits pass…”

“That is correct.” He stated.

Misun was a guardian of the spirit realm.

I’d read about it once in Legends of the Flame—the Gate of Eternity, a portal said to lie between the living and the dead.

Dragons were its wardens, their wings the barricade, their fire the seal.

No soul passed unbidden—neither escaping death nor invading life.

It was supposed to be a myth, a tale to frighten children.

But here Misun stood, his voice rumbling in my mind like thunder, and I knew the truth.

The gate was real. The dragons were real. And one of them was bound to me.

“For ages beyond counting,” Misun’s voice rolled through my mind like the slow grind of mountains, “I have stood where the veil thins. I have watched kings and beggars alike take their final steps. I have burned the shadows that would steal the dead from their rest, and I have shattered the claws of the living who dared to tear them back. The gate does not open for the unworthy… and it does not close for the willing. And you…”

His words carried the weight of every soul he had ever judged, every flame he had ever unleashed.

“…You are worthy.”

My chest ached. Not just from Misun’s approval, but for the first time, I knew I was worthy. I didn’t need a god to tell me. “I want to see her again. Can you help me?”

A pause, heavy as a held breath in a tomb. Then, Misun rumbled, “Only for a minute.”

The black faded, replaced by sunlight so warm it hurt my eyes. The wildflower field stretched in every direction, petals swaying in a gentle breeze. And she was there.

Her hair lifted in the wind, her eyes soft as she reached for my face. “Mother!” My voice broke as I stumbled toward her, tears burning.

“Shhh,” she whispered, cupping my cheeks. “It’s alright, my sweet girl. We don’t have much time.”

I nodded, afraid to blink.

“You need to forgive yourself,” she said, her voice as warm as the sun. “What happened to me was not your fault. It was no one’s. It was fate. I didn’t feel a thing—nothing but your love when I left.”

She smiled, and I saw true peace on her face. “And you know what? It’s beautiful here. I’m with your father again.” A sob ripped through me. “He and Landen both say they’re proud of who you’ve become.”

She pulled me into her arms and hugged me tightly. I never wanted this moment to end. “Some people… need to chase the darkness to find their light,” she whispered.

She pulled away from our embrace, her thumb brushing away my tears.

“Don’t let the darkness fool you, sweet girl.

All lights turned off can be turned back on.

” She leaned in, her forehead touching mine.

“The magic cannot leave you when it is you. Take what is your birthright, Elara. Take what you were born to do.”

My voice shook. “Y-you left me too soon. You haven’t even seen the real me.”

Our foreheads stayed pressed together, her voice breaking into something almost like a whisper carried on a final breath.

“I never left you, Elara,” she murmured.

“I’ve been watching all along. I am so proud of you,” she kissed my tear-stained cheek.

“But you cannot stay here with me—you have to go back. Let your magic soar, Elara. Light it up. You have a team cheering for you here.”

I sobbed.