Chapter 27 What The Flame Remember

• They rode in silence.
• Not the kind born of peace—but the strained quiet of two hearts carrying too much. Kael hadn’t looked at her since they left the ruins. His jaw was tight, knuckles white around the reins. Elira felt the weight of the fire in her veins, a lingering pulse beneath her skin. The magic was quieter now, but not gone. Never gone. Like something ancient had woken up inside her—and it was watching.
• By nightfall, they stopped at a ruined watchtower buried in moss and memory. Kael dismounted, gathered wood without a word. Elira sat nearby, arms around her knees. The fire he lit was small, but warm. They sat across from each other, the silence louder than any scream.