After parting with Lyra, Arden wandered the forest, his mind a storm her beauty, her scented flames, her broken core… It burned inside him, a fear he couldn't name. She couldn't be human nothing that perfect was real.

He had to master his magic. Andre's training had sharpened him, but his flames still stung. In a secluded clearing, he opened his palms. Sparks flickered, then blood-red flames rose. Unsteady, they lashed at his arms, scorching his skin. He recoiled in pain.
"What am I doing wrong?" he wondered, recalling Lyra's serene fire. Hers danced; his destroyed.

A voice cut through: "You're burning yourself."
He turned to see Lyra, arms crossed, a faint smile on her lips. She crouched. "Is this really fire?" she asked. "It's a terrible color like blood."
Arden frowned. "What do you mean?"
She snapped her fingers. Sweet scent filled the air, her flames swaying softly. "Do the same," she said. "Feel it. Let your flames speak to you."

Arden closed his eyes, breathing deep. He sought the fire within. But a jolt struck his mind, and he crumpled. Lyra rushed forward. "What happened?" she asked, voice trembling.
Arden couldn't speak his vision blurred, breath raced. That voice echoed again: "The blind heir has set out with his master."
His lungs burned, organs searing. He turned to Lyra. A yellow light burst from his blind eye blazing like the sun, scorching the ground. Yet he felt nothing.

Lyra stared, terrified. "Arden, are you okay?" she whispered.
He managed a weak smile. "What's wrong?"
She sighed, masking her fear, and hugged him. "It's nothing… for now. We'll talk later."