The Thirteenth Ember - Chapter 17: Chapter 17
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The sanctuary had no clocks, no windows — just a steady rhythm of warmth, and the sound of water dripping from stone.
Time didn’t pass there. It deepened.
By the second day, Aeryn was already changed.
The silver flame that had first sparked in her hands now responded to her breathing. She could coax it from her palm, shape it into thin ribbons of heat, even send it dancing along the seams of her cloak without burning the fabric.
She practiced alone, in the hollow beyond the lake.
Kael watched from a distance, seated beside Oryn, a line of sweat on his brow. He was fighting his own war — against a fire that had never obeyed.
Oryn had placed a thin flame between his palms — a test of will. Keep the ember alive, but keep it small.
But Kael couldn’t.
Every time he focused, the flame surged. Bright. Angry. Hungry.
“Again,” Oryn said calmly.
Kael exhaled through his teeth. “I don’t know how to feel less.”
“It’s not about feeling less. It’s about focusing more.” Oryn stood and pointed toward Aeryn. “Watch her.”
Kael did.
She was crouched low, her fingers tracing the air in deliberate curves. The flame responded not like a tool — but like a partner.
She wasn’t controlling it.She was listening.
Oryn spoke softly. “That’s the part the Order feared. Not raw power. But harmony.”
Kael clenched his fists. “She makes it look easy.”
“She’s not forcing it.”
Kael turned back to the tiny flame between his hands. He took a breath, then another. This time, he didn’t try to crush it into obedience. He let it breathe with him.
The flame trembled… then stilled.
Balanced.
For a heartbeat, it held.
Then burst in a sharp flash, singeing his gloves.
Kael cursed, shaking his fingers. “Better?”
Oryn smiled faintly. “You didn’t explode the roof. That’s progress.”
Later, Aeryn approached him as he cooled off near the underground lake. Her sleeves were dusted with ember soot, her hair damp with sweat.
“You looked calm today,” she said, settling beside him.
He groaned. “I almost roasted my hands.”
“But you didn’t.” She smiled, tilting her head toward the surface of the lake, where flame-reflections shimmered like stars. “It’s strange… When I was younger, I thought being Flameborn meant controlling something wild inside you.”
“And now?”
“Now I think… maybe the flame’s never been wild.” She turned to him. “Maybe we are.”
Kael’s throat tightened.
The silence between them was full — not awkward, not forced. Just charged. Like
something old and inevitable was curling toward them, one spark at a time.
“I should thank you,” she said after a while.
“For what?”
“For reminding me I’m not just someone who heals.”
Kael leaned in a little. Not enough to touch. But close enough to feel her warmth — the kind that didn’t burn.
“You’re not just someone who saves people, Aeryn.”
She looked up at him. “Then what am I?”
He held her gaze, voice low. “You’re the reason I haven’t burned down the world.”
Time didn’t pass there. It deepened.
By the second day, Aeryn was already changed.
The silver flame that had first sparked in her hands now responded to her breathing. She could coax it from her palm, shape it into thin ribbons of heat, even send it dancing along the seams of her cloak without burning the fabric.
She practiced alone, in the hollow beyond the lake.
Kael watched from a distance, seated beside Oryn, a line of sweat on his brow. He was fighting his own war — against a fire that had never obeyed.
Oryn had placed a thin flame between his palms — a test of will. Keep the ember alive, but keep it small.
But Kael couldn’t.
Every time he focused, the flame surged. Bright. Angry. Hungry.
“Again,” Oryn said calmly.
Kael exhaled through his teeth. “I don’t know how to feel less.”
“It’s not about feeling less. It’s about focusing more.” Oryn stood and pointed toward Aeryn. “Watch her.”
Kael did.
She was crouched low, her fingers tracing the air in deliberate curves. The flame responded not like a tool — but like a partner.
She wasn’t controlling it.She was listening.
Oryn spoke softly. “That’s the part the Order feared. Not raw power. But harmony.”
Kael clenched his fists. “She makes it look easy.”
“She’s not forcing it.”
Kael turned back to the tiny flame between his hands. He took a breath, then another. This time, he didn’t try to crush it into obedience. He let it breathe with him.
The flame trembled… then stilled.
Balanced.
For a heartbeat, it held.
Then burst in a sharp flash, singeing his gloves.
Kael cursed, shaking his fingers. “Better?”
Oryn smiled faintly. “You didn’t explode the roof. That’s progress.”
Later, Aeryn approached him as he cooled off near the underground lake. Her sleeves were dusted with ember soot, her hair damp with sweat.
“You looked calm today,” she said, settling beside him.
He groaned. “I almost roasted my hands.”
“But you didn’t.” She smiled, tilting her head toward the surface of the lake, where flame-reflections shimmered like stars. “It’s strange… When I was younger, I thought being Flameborn meant controlling something wild inside you.”
“And now?”
“Now I think… maybe the flame’s never been wild.” She turned to him. “Maybe we are.”
Kael’s throat tightened.
The silence between them was full — not awkward, not forced. Just charged. Like
something old and inevitable was curling toward them, one spark at a time.
“I should thank you,” she said after a while.
“For what?”
“For reminding me I’m not just someone who heals.”
Kael leaned in a little. Not enough to touch. But close enough to feel her warmth — the kind that didn’t burn.
“You’re not just someone who saves people, Aeryn.”
She looked up at him. “Then what am I?”
He held her gaze, voice low. “You’re the reason I haven’t burned down the world.”
End of The Thirteenth Ember Chapter 17. Continue reading Chapter 18 or return to The Thirteenth Ember book page.