Page 12 of Fire’s Resonance (Hearts on Fire #1)

As we follow Blaze through the winding corridors, I lean close to her ear. My breath stirring the fiery strands of her hair. “Let me handle the council. Don’t volunteer information. Don’t make eye contact with Elder Varen.”

She shoots me a sharp look. Eyes flashing with that amber fire that first caught my attention. “I’m not going to cower in front of your dragon politicians. I want answers as much as they do.”

My fingers tighten on her waist. Possessive. Protective. “Varen is dangerous. More than the others.” I struggle to articulate the warning my instincts scream. The wrongness I’ve sensed but could never prove. “Something’s wrong with him. Has been since The Sundering.”

“The what?”

Before I can explain, we arrive at the massive obsidian doors of the Inner Sanctum.

Ancient glyphs carved into the surface glow with internal fire, responding to our presence.

To my shock, the Guardian sigil at the center blazes brightest. Recognizing the bond between Spark and me before we even understand it ourselves.

Blaze notices it too, eyes widening slightly before his expression returns to careful neutrality. “It recognizes you,” he murmurs, almost to himself. Then, louder: “Enter and be judged.”

The doors swing open soundlessly. Revealing the circular chamber beyond.

Seven elders sit in a semicircle, their seats carved from different gemstones corresponding to their lineages.

At the center, in a throne of pure crimson fire-crystal, sits Elder Varen—gaunt and hollow-eyed, but with an intensity that burns from within.

His amber eyes, so similar to Spark’s, lock onto her with disturbing focus. My arm tightens around her waist automatically. Muscles tensing for conflict. A snarl builds in my throat.

“So,” Varen’s voice rasps through the chamber. “The Ashen One brings us a human who resists our magic.” His gaze drops to my flames, now tinged with crimson since bonding with Spark. “How very... convenient.”

Ashen One. The old name grinds into me. The mocking title they gave me as a juvenile when my flames emerged gray instead of proper crimson.

When the clan decided I was defective. Lesser.

The reminder sends a surge of bitter memory through me.

Years of proving myself. Fighting harder.

Being more lethal. More disciplined. More perfect than any other warrior.

Never enough.

Memory crashes through me unbidden—standing in the training arena, a fledgling, heart pounding with excitement as I prepared to demonstrate my emerging flame before the council of elders.

“Show us your fire, young one,” Elder Morak had prompted, his ancient eyes kind despite his formal tone.

I had cupped my small hands, focusing intently as I’d been taught, calling forth the inner flame that marked a dragon’s coming of age.

Pride had swelled in my chest as fire bloomed between my palms—but not the expected crimson of my bloodline.

Instead, silver-gray flames danced between my fingers, casting unusual shadows across the stunned faces of the watching elders.

Whispers had erupted immediately. Concerned glances exchanged. Varen had stepped forward, his expression grave as he examined my flame.

“A defect in the bloodline,” he had pronounced, voice carrying authority that none dared question. “Gray flame indicates impurity, weakness. The child will need special monitoring.”

My father’s face had fallen, pride giving way to disappointment then careful neutrality. My mother had pressed her lips together, eyes bright with unshed tears.

“But the ancient texts speak of gray flame as—” Elder Nyra had begun, only to be silenced by Varen’s sharp gesture.

“Those old legends are irrelevant in modern dragonkind,” Varen had interrupted. “The child’s defect must be managed, his training modified to compensate for his... limitation.”

In that moment, everything had changed. The respect I’d been shown as a hatchling of noble bloodline had vanished, replaced by wary glances and lowered expectations. What should have been a celebration became the beginning of isolation.

I feel Spark stiffen beside me. Before I can stop her, she steps forward. Breaking from my protective hold. My fingers flex in empty air, itching to pull her back to safety. To tuck her safely against my side where nothing can harm her.

“I have a name,” she says, voice clear and strong. “It’s Spark Dekker. And I want to know what’s happening to me.”

My chest swells with pride even as my protective instincts scream warning. My fierce little flame, standing her ground before the most powerful dragons in the clan.

Varen’s lips curl into something approximating a smile. “What’s happening, Spark Dekker, is that you’re awakening to your true nature.” He rises from his seat, movements fluid despite his gaunt appearance. “The question is who placed you among humans, and why they wanted your heritage hidden.”

My instincts scream warning as Varen approaches. Something dark flickers beneath his skin—corruption that no one else seems to notice or acknowledge. My flames erupt along my arms in response. Protective patterns swirling around both Spark and me.

“The Guardian Bond,” Elder Nyra announces, silver eyes bright with interest. “It manifests already, though newly formed.” She turns to the other council members. “The Protocol awakens.”

A murmur passes through the council. Varen’s expression hardens for a split second before smoothing into practiced neutrality.

“We must test the bond,” he declares. “To ensure it’s genuine and not some... aberration.”

Test the bond? The beast within me roars with fury at the suggestion. It surges forward, fighting for control. My vision blurs. Flames licking higher along my arms. My canines lengthen. Scales erupting along my jawline.

Kill threat to mate.

But before I can object, Varen gestures sharply. Four warrior-priests emerge from alcoves around the chamber. They carry ceremonial blades and burning censers, the ancient tools used for bond verification.

“The bond-fire will reveal the truth,” Varen announces. “If their flames combine as one, the Guardian is awakened. If not...” His amber eyes gleam with something that raises my hackles. “Well, we shall see.”

Spark moves closer to my side. Her fingers interlacing with mine. Through our touch, I feel her—not just physically, but deeper. An awareness of her emotions flooding through me. Her uncertainty and fear—but beneath it, a steely determination that matches my own.

The sensation staggers me. This connection. This awareness of another being. Is this what the legends meant? Two becoming one through the Guardian Bond?

I look down at our joined hands. Her small fingers interlaced with my larger ones. The contrast in our skin tones. The way we fit together perfectly. Like pieces of a puzzle meant to be united.

Made for each other. Always meant to be.

“What do we have to do?” she asks, voice steady despite the tremor I feel through our joined hands.

“Simply allow your flames to meet,” Elder Nyra explains, gentler than Varen. “If the bond is true, they will combine into something greater than either alone.”

Spark’s fingers tighten around mine. “Small problem with that,” she whispers. “I don’t exactly have flames shooting out my ass yet.”

The realization hits me with sudden clarity. She doesn’t know how to access her dragon abilities. She’s lived her entire life as a human, unaware of the power sleeping within her.

Varen’s smile widens, revealing teeth too sharp for his human form. “Then perhaps the bond is premature. Or false.”

Fuck that. My dragon surges forward. Protective rage burning through my veins. I turn to face Spark fully. Taking both her hands in mine. The contact sends electric currents up my arms. Across my chest. Straight to my groin.

Our faces are inches apart. “You do have flames,” I tell her, my voice dropping to a rumble only she can hear. “You’ve been using them your entire life in your glass. You just need to find them.”

Her eyes widen. Uncertainty warring with hope. “How?”

Instead of answering with words, I let my silver-gray flames engulf our joined hands. The fire doesn’t burn her—it can’t harm my mate—but swirls around her skin. Seeking entry. Seeking its match.

My blood heats. Heart pounding against my ribcage. The intimate act of sharing flame is something dragons only do with mates or offspring. The sensation of my fire caressing her skin sends waves of pleasure through me.

Soon. Soon I’ll share much more than flame with you, little mate.

“Feel it,” I murmur, forehead pressed to hers. Breathing her air. Taking her scent deep into my lungs. “It’s already inside you. Has been your entire life. That heat in your hands when you work your glass. The fire that never burns you. That’s your flame, Spark. Your dragon calling to mine.”

Her breathing accelerates. Pulse racing beneath my fingers. For one terrifying moment, nothing happens. Then—

A spark. Copper-red and brilliant, flickering between her fingers. Her gasp of shock echoes through the chamber as the tiny flame grows. Dancing along her skin before twining with my silver-gray fire.

Where they meet, something miraculous happens. Our combined flames turn pure white-hot. Brighter than any dragonfire I’ve ever seen. The bond-fire expands, surrounding us in a protective sphere that illuminates the entire chamber with blinding intensity.

Through our connected flames, I feel her—not just physically, but mentally. Emotionally. Her shock. Her wonder. Her fear and defiance and courage. And beneath it all, a sense of homecoming so powerful it steals my breath.

At last.

The bond-fire reveals something else—a pattern of flame signatures dating back generations. Connecting Spark’s newly awakened fire to ancient bloodlines long thought lost. Her heritage, visible for all to see.