Chapter Four: Chains of Fire
Aeliana couldn't sleep. The glow of Lythrenis outside her window seemed to pulse in time with the strange energy coursing through her veins. The lingering heat of Kaelion's touch burned on her skin, a stark reminder of how precarious her situation had become. She had seen the hunger in his mismatched eyes—not just the hunger for power, but something darker, more dangerous.
Her fingers traced the faint shimmer on her palm where her magic had briefly flared. She didn't understand it yet, but she knew one thing: this was her key to survival. If she could harness it, she could find a way to escape. If she could master it, she might even stand a chance against the Demon King himself.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door creaking open. She shot to her feet, expecting Kaelion's towering figure. Instead, a different figure stepped into the room—a fae man, lean and sharp-featured, with hair as dark as midnight and eyes that gleamed like polished steel. He moved with quiet confidence, closing the door behind him without a word.
"Who are you?" Aeliana demanded, her voice sharp as she backed away toward the window.
The man inclined his head slightly, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "My name is Eryndor," he said, his voice smooth and laced with amusement. "I'm here at the king's request."
Her stomach twisted. "What does he want now?"
Eryndor's smirk widened. "Kaelion believes you need… guidance. He's assigned me to train you."
Aeliana's eyes narrowed. "Train me? For what?"
"For survival," Eryndor said simply, stepping closer. His gaze flicked to her hands. "The magic in your blood is raw, untamed. If you don't learn to control it, it will consume you—and the king won't tolerate that kind of waste."
She stiffened, crossing her arms over her chest. "And if I refuse?"
Eryndor's expression didn't waver, but something cold flickered in his eyes. "Then he'll find other ways to ensure you comply. Trust me, you don't want to test his patience."
Her pulse quickened, but she held her ground. "So, you're just another one of his pawns."
Eryndor's smirk faltered, replaced by a shadow of something darker—resentment, perhaps. "We're all pawns in Kaelion's game," he said quietly. "But some of us learn how to play the board."
His words hung in the air, their meaning sinking deep into Aeliana's chest. She didn't want to play his game, but the alternative seemed far worse.
"What do you want from me?" she asked, her voice softer this time.
Eryndor's gaze softened, though his expression remained guarded. "I want to help you survive. But I won't lie to you—it won't be easy. Your power is unique, and if the king has taken an interest in you, it means you're important. But importance comes with a cost."
She swallowed hard, the weight of his words pressing down on her. "Fine," she said finally. "Teach me."
The Training Begins
The following morning, Aeliana was led to an open courtyard deep within the palace. The space was surrounded by towering marble columns, and the floor was etched with ancient runes that pulsed faintly with magic. Eryndor stood at the center, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp as they followed her approach.
"You'll start with the basics," he said as she stopped in front of him. "Magic flows through your blood, but right now it's chaotic, untamed. You'll learn to control it—or it will control you."
Aeliana squared her shoulders. "How?"
Eryndor gestured for her to sit in the center of the runic circle. "Focus," he instructed. "Feel the magic inside you. It's like a flame—it can burn wildly, or it can be shaped into something useful. Close your eyes and find the flame."
She hesitated but complied, lowering herself to the cold stone. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, tuning out the faint hum of the runes beneath her. For a long moment, there was nothing but silence. Then, faintly, she felt it—a flicker of warmth deep in her chest, like a tiny ember struggling to ignite.
"I can feel it," she whispered.
"Good," Eryndor said, his tone surprisingly encouraging. "Now, draw it out. Let it fill you."
Aeliana furrowed her brow, focusing on the ember. Slowly, it began to grow, the warmth spreading through her limbs. She felt the faintest stirrings of power, like threads of light weaving through her veins.
But then something shifted. The warmth turned searing, a sudden surge of energy flooding her senses. Her eyes flew open as the runes beneath her flared with blinding light. She gasped, clutching her chest as the magic spiraled out of control.
"Stop!" she cried, panic lacing her voice.
Eryndor moved quickly, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Breathe," he commanded. "You're letting it overwhelm you. Focus. Control it."
She clenched her fists, fighting to regain control as the energy threatened to consume her. Slowly, she forced herself to breathe, to steady the wild currents coursing through her. The light began to dim, and the searing heat receded, leaving her trembling but intact.
Eryndor stepped back, his expression unreadable. "Not bad for a first attempt," he said, though his voice carried a note of caution. "But you've barely scratched the surface."
Aeliana looked up at him, her chest heaving. "What… what happens if I lose control again?"
His gaze darkened. "Then Kaelion will intervene. And trust me, you don't want that."
The warning sent a chill down her spine, but she nodded, determination hardening in her chest. She couldn't afford to fail—not with her life, her freedom, and her very soul on the line.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, Aeliana returned to her chambers, her body aching from the day's trials. But beneath the exhaustion, a spark of hope burned brighter than before. She wasn't powerless. She wasn't helpless. And if Kaelion thought he could bend her to his will, he was wrong.
For the first time since entering the Demon King's palace, Aeliana allowed herself a small, defiant smile. Let him try.