The sun dipped low in the sky, casting long shadows over the open plains. Ethan and Lyra trudged onward, exhaustion evident in their movements. The weight of the dark stone in Lyra's bag seemed to press heavier with each step, a constant reminder of the danger they carried.
As they reached the base of a rocky hill, Lyra held up a hand. "We'll camp here tonight. The rocks should give us some cover."
Ethan nodded, dropping his pack beside a boulder. He sat heavily, letting out a long breath. His thoughts lingered on the tension from earlier—how close they'd come to being spotted by Rhovan's scouts.
As Lyra began to gather kindling for a small fire, Ethan's mind drifted to the strange warmth he'd felt in his chest during their escape. It wasn't the usual hum of his Overgrowth System. It was something else—something fiery and untamed.
He glanced down at his hands, flexing his fingers. "Lyra," he called, his voice hesitant.
She looked up from her work. "What?"
"There's something I haven't tried since… well, since the ruins," he admitted.
Lyra frowned, crossing her arms. "What are you talking about?"
Ethan hesitated, then took a deep breath. "The Blazewing Stalker's Core. I absorbed it, but I've barely tapped into what it gave me. I think… I think I should see what it can do."
Lyra's expression darkened. "Ethan, that's risky. We're out in the open. If you lose control, you'll light up the whole area, and every scout within miles will see us."
"I know," Ethan said quickly. "But if I don't start figuring this out, what's the point of having it? What if I need it and I'm too scared to use it?"
Lyra sighed, rubbing her temples. "Fine. But keep it small. And if I even think it's getting out of hand, we stop immediately."
Ethan nodded, standing and stepping away from their makeshift camp. He took a deep breath, focusing inward. The familiar hum of the Overgrowth System stirred, but he pushed past it, reaching for something deeper, hotter.
At first, nothing happened. But then, a spark ignited in his chest, spreading through his veins like molten fire. His skin prickled with heat as a faint orange glow began to shimmer around him.
The flames materialized slowly, wrapping around his shoulders and arms like a living garment. It wasn't just fire—it was controlled, almost sentient. The Ember Cloak flared to life, casting flickering shadows across the rocks.
Lyra's eyes widened. "Ethan… you're glowing."
He laughed nervously, holding out his hands. The flames licked harmlessly at his skin, their warmth comforting rather than scalding. "It feels… strange. Like it's alive."
"Can you control it?" Lyra asked, her tone cautious.
Ethan clenched his fists, and the flames obeyed, concentrating around his hands. He released them, and the cloak expanded again. "It's… responsive. Like the vines, but faster. More intense."
Lyra stepped closer, her gaze sharp. "Good. Now turn it off."
Ethan frowned. "What? I just got it going."
"Ethan," Lyra said firmly. "You're a beacon right now. Every scout out there will see you if you keep that up."
Reluctantly, Ethan focused on the flames, willing them to retreat. The Ember Cloak flickered, then faded, leaving only the faint warmth in his chest.
"Happy?" he asked, his voice tinged with frustration.
Lyra nodded, though her expression remained serious. "You're making progress, but you're not ready to use that in a fight. Not yet."
Ethan sat back down, running a hand through his messy brown hair. "Yeah, I know. But at least I know it works."
The night passed uneventfully, though Ethan's dreams were filled with flickering flames and twisting vines. When dawn broke, the pair set out again, the hills growing steeper as they traveled eastward.
By mid-morning, they reached the crest of a hill and spotted a small caravan in the valley below. A dozen wagons were arranged in a circle, with smoke rising from a central fire.
Lyra crouched low, motioning for Ethan to follow suit. "What do you think? Traders?"
Ethan squinted, his emerald green eyes narrowing. "Maybe. Or mercenaries."
"We need supplies," Lyra said. "And information. If they're friendly, we might be able to trade."
"And if they're not?" Ethan asked.
Lyra's hand drifted to the hilt of her dagger. "Then we move fast."
Ethan sighed, tightening his grip on his staff. "Alright. Let's see what we're dealing with."
As they approached the caravan, a burly man stepped out to greet them. He was heavily armored, with a scar running across his jaw. His eyes scanned Ethan and Lyra with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.
"Travelers?" the man asked, his voice gruff.
"Just passing through," Lyra replied smoothly. "We were hoping to trade."
The man nodded slowly, glancing at Ethan. "And you? What's your deal?"
Ethan shifted uncomfortably under the man's scrutiny. He could feel the faint hum of his system reacting to the tension. "Same as her," he said. "We're just looking for supplies."
The man stared at him for a moment longer, then stepped aside. "Alright. But no trouble. We've got enough problems without strangers stirring the pot."
Ethan and Lyra exchanged a glance before stepping into the caravan's circle. The smell of roasting meat filled the air, and traders bustled about, bartering goods and sharing stories.
Ethan couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, his instincts prickling. As they moved deeper into the caravan, he noticed a woman sitting by one of the fires, her eyes fixed on him.
She was older, with sharp features and a piercing gaze. Her expression was unreadable, but there was something about her that set Ethan on edge.
"Who's that?" he murmured to Lyra.
Lyra followed his gaze and frowned. "Trouble. Let's keep moving."
But before they could, the woman stood and approached them. Her eyes locked onto Ethan, and a small, knowing smile played on her lips.
"You carry something… unusual," she said, her voice soft but commanding. "Something powerful."
Ethan tensed, his hand tightening around his staff. "I don't know what you're talking about."
The woman chuckled, her gaze flicking to Lyra. "You've brought him far, but the road ahead will be more dangerous than you can imagine."
Lyra stepped forward, her hand on her dagger. "Who are you?"
The woman's smile widened. "A friend. And a warning. The power you carry, boy—it will attract more than just Rhovan. Be careful who you trust."
With that, she turned and walked away, leaving Ethan and Lyra standing in uneasy silence.