They fled through the back door of the healing house as black-cloaked figures entered the front. Kaelan caught only glimpses: tall silhouettes, faces obscured by dark cloth, curved blades glinting in the morning light.

  "This way," Morvith hissed, pulling him between buildings. The elder moved with surprising speed, guiding them toward the edge of the settlement.

  "We can't just run," Kaelan protested. His father was still in that building. The other injured miners too. "Those people, whoever they are..."

  "Will kill everyone in their path to get to you." Morvith's voice was flat. "Unless we draw them away."

  The reality of those words hit Kaelan like a physical blow. People might die because of him. Because of something in his blood he hadn't known about until today.

  They paused at the corner of the granary. The settlement was in chaos. Settlers ran in all directions, some carrying possessions, others just fleeing. Smoke rose from the direction of the communal hall.

  "They're burning buildings," Kaelan said, horrified.

  "Searching for you. Creating confusion." Morvith scanned the area. "The Obsidian Order operates through fear as much as force."

  A scream cut through the air. A woman's voice, abruptly silenced.

  Kaelan's hands burned. He looked down to see that same orange glow beginning to trace along his veins. The medallion his father had given him grew warm against his chest where he'd hung it.

  "I have to help them."

  "You'll die," Morvith countered. "And they'll die anyway. You have no control, no training."

  A memory flashed through Kaelan's mind. The mine. The fire responding to his will, backing away from his touch. That hadn't been an accident or a hallucination.

  "I can control fire," he said. "I did it before."

  "Controlling and creating are different skills. The Order members are trained killers who've spent decades honing their Ashflame abilities."

  Black smoke billowed higher. Another building had caught fire. This was his home. These were his people.

  "Show me something," Kaelan demanded. "Anything I can use."

  Morvith hesitated only briefly. "Very well. The medallion your mother left you. Focus on it. Feel the connection to your inner heat, then extend that awareness outward. Sense the fires they've started."

  Kaelan closed his eyes, fingers closing around the metal disk. It pulsed with subtle warmth, like a tiny heartbeat. He followed that sensation inward, finding the core of heat that had awakened in the mine. It was still there, a glowing ember in his chest.

  "Good," Morvith whispered. "Now reach for the closest flame. Don't try to control it yet. Just feel it."

  Kaelan extended his awareness as instructed. Suddenly, he could sense the fires burning throughout the settlement. Each one a bright point in his mind's eye, connected to him by invisible threads. The largest blazed from the communal hall, hungry and growing.

  "I can feel them," he murmured, amazed.

  "Now pull on that connection. Gently. Imagine drawing the heat into yourself, storing it."

  His hand trembled as he reached toward the nearest fire, a small blaze someone had started in a rubbish pile to create more confusion. The connection strengthened. The flame wavered.

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  "Focus," Morvith urged.

  Kaelan inhaled deeply, imagining the heat flowing into him. To his shock, the small fire dimmed, then extinguished entirely. The heat didn't burn him but settled into that inner core, making it glow brighter.

  He opened his eyes, gasping. "I did it. It's gone."

  "A small victory," Morvith said. "But we need more than fire control to escape. We need..."

  The elder's words cut off abruptly. His golden eyes widened. He looked down in surprise at the blade tip protruding from his chest.

  "No!" Kaelan stumbled back as Morvith collapsed forward. Behind him stood a tall figure in black, face half-covered by dark cloth. Only the eyes were visible, obsidian-dark with red pinpoints where pupils should be.

  "Young Cinderfell." The voice was surprisingly melodic, almost pleasant. "Your first lesson in Ashflame: never turn your back on an Obsidian tracker."

  The attacker flicked blood from the curved blade with a casual motion. Kaelan backed away, frantically searching for a weapon, an escape route, anything.

  "You needn't fear," the tracker continued, advancing slowly. "We don't intend to kill you. Your bloodline is too valuable. We simply require your... cooperation."

  Morvith lay motionless on the ground, blood pooling beneath him. His golden eyes stared sightlessly at the sky. The man who had known Kaelan's mother, who might have answered so many questions, was gone.

  Rage surged through Kaelan, hot and sudden. The inner fire responded, flaring so violently he gasped. The medallion against his chest burned like a coal.

  "There it is," the tracker murmured. "The famous Cinderfell temper. Fire in the blood indeed."

  Two more black-clad figures appeared, flanking the first. One held what looked like manacles, dark metal etched with strange patterns.

  "Come quietly," the first tracker said. "Your settlement has suffered enough. Cooperation will spare further bloodshed."

  The fire inside Kaelan roared in response to his fury. He reached for it instinctively, no longer caring about control or consequences. Power flooded his system, hotter than in the mine, more focused. The trackers tensed, sensing the change.

  "He's awakening further," one warned. "The restraints, quickly!"

  Kaelan thrust his hands forward, not knowing what would happen but trusting the instinct now screaming through his blood. Fire erupted from his palms, not drawn from elsewhere but created, manifested from his own inner heat.

  The lead tracker batted the flames aside with a practiced motion, but looked surprised. "Creation already? Interesting."

  The second attack came more easily, a whip of flame that Kaelan snapped toward the tracker with the restraints. It caught the black fabric of her cloak, setting it ablaze. She dropped the manacles with a curse, beating at the fire.

  Kaelan felt a surge of savage satisfaction, followed immediately by horror at his own reaction. What was happening to him? This wasn't who he was.

  A sharp pain suddenly lanced through his shoulder. He looked down to see a thin black dart protruding from his flesh. The third tracker lowered a blowpipe, eyes narrowed above the face covering.

  "Sleep now, young flame," the lead tracker said. "When you wake, your real education begins."

  Cold spread from the dart site, a strange counterpoint to the fire in his veins. Kaelan tried to summon more flame, but his concentration wavered. The world tilted sideways.

  He fell to his knees beside Morvith's body. His hand closed around something hard in the dirt. The volcanic glass the elder had shown him earlier. It glowed brightly in response to his touch, pulsing with his fading heartbeat.

  "Take the body too," the lead tracker instructed. "The elder may have had the family relic."

  Darkness crept in from the edges of Kaelan's vision. As consciousness slipped away, a final desperate thought formed. He would not be taken. Would not be used.

  With his last moment of clarity, he pressed the volcanic glass against the wound in his shoulder and poured every fragment of remaining fire into it.

  Pain exploded through his body. The black glass shattered with a sound like distant thunder. The last thing Kaelan saw was the surprised faces of the trackers as a wave of pure heat rippled outward from his fallen form.

  Then darkness claimed him completely.

  Consciousness returned in pieces. Pain first, then sound, finally sight.

  Kaelan blinked up at unfamiliar trees. Pine needles swayed against blue sky. He was lying on his back in a forest clearing. The settlement was nowhere in sight.

  He tried to sit up and almost screamed as agony tore through his shoulder. The skin around the dart wound was blackened, traced with lines of red like cooling lava. The volcanic glass had burned a pattern into his flesh, a spiral marking that pulsed with dull heat.

  "You're lucky to be alive."

  Kaelan twisted toward the voice. A young man leaned against a nearby tree, tall and broad-shouldered, with close-cropped dark hair. A stranger, but not dressed like the Obsidian trackers.

  "Who are you?" Kaelan's voice came out as a croak.

  "Someone who was in the right place at the right time." The stranger tossed a waterskin toward him. It landed within reach. "Or wrong place, depending how you look at it. Drink."

  Kaelan took a cautious sip, then gulped the water gratefully. "The settlement? My father?"

  "In chaos when I left. The Obsidian Order retreated after that explosion you created. Took their casualties with them." The stranger straightened. "Including the elder's body."

  Morvith. Dead. The memory crashed back, bringing fresh pain that had nothing to do with his wound. The elder had known his mother, had answers Kaelan desperately needed.

  "My father. Did you see him?"

  "The injured man in the healing house? He was organizing defenses when I slipped out with you. Seems capable, for a mining settlement."

  Relief flooded through Kaelan. "You saved me. Why?"

  The stranger's mouth quirked in what might have been a smile. "Let's say I have my own reasons to avoid the Obsidian Order. When I saw what you did with that volcanic glass..." He shrugged. "Anyone who can cause them that much trouble is worth saving."

  Kaelan looked down at the strange mark on his shoulder. It no longer burned but felt oddly alive against his skin. "What happened back there? What did I do?"

  "You used the elder's focusing stone as a weapon. Created a shockwave of pure Ashflame energy." The stranger looked impressed despite himself. "Never seen an untrained wielder manage that. Killed two of the trackers outright. Third one fled with severe burns."

  The news should have horrified him. Instead, Kaelan felt a grim satisfaction that disturbed him more than the deaths themselves.

  "I need to go back," he said, struggling to rise again.

  The stranger placed a restraining hand on his good shoulder. "You go back now, they'll send more. And next time, they'll come prepared for what you can do."

  "I can't just leave. My father..."

  "Will be watched. The Order knows the best way to catch you is to wait." The stranger offered a hand. "I'm Dorn. I'm heading to Emberfell. If you want answers about what you are, what's happening to you... that's where you'll find them."

  Kaelan stared at the offered hand. Emberfell. The central city Morvith had mentioned. Where others like him trained. Where he might learn about his mother's legacy.

  And where, perhaps, he could find the strength to return and protect what remained of his old life.

  He took Dorn's hand. "I'm Kaelan."

  "I know," Dorn replied with another half-smile. "The marked Cinderfell. You've just made life interesting for both of us."