It was past midnight when Arash and Nika arrived at the wooden cabin of Azar, Arash's sister. The cabin stood among pine trees on the mountainside. Snow continued to fall, and the bone-chilling cold froze the breath in their lungs.

Arash knocked on the door with the back of his hand—three short knocks, a pause, two long knocks—a code that had existed between him and his sister since childhood. He still held Sara's body in his arms, a form that had now become stiff and heavy in the night's cold. Nika, exhausted and grieving, clung to her father's legs, her eyes reddened from secret tears.

The sound of soft footsteps came from inside the cabin. A moment later, there was the sound of wood sliding, and then Azar's eye appeared through a small crack in the door. Upon seeing Arash, she quickly opened it.

"Arash?" Azar's eyes moved from her brother to the lifeless body in his arms, and then to Nika, who was trembling. Azar covered her mouth with her hand to stifle her cry. "Oh my God... come inside, quickly."

They entered the warm cabin. Fire burned in the wood stove, casting dancing shadows on the wooden walls. Azar gestured to the adjacent room, guiding Arash to place Sara's body on a bed. Then she brought a blanket and wrapped it around Nika's shoulders, sat the girl next to the stove, and gave her a cup of warm milk.

When Arash came out of the room, Azar placed a bowl of warm water and a clean cloth before him. With care and gentleness, she cleaned the dried blood from her brother's face, neck, and hands, and treated his wounds, while staring in astonishment at her brother's long black hair—hair that had been light and short until that very morning.

"Now tell me what happened," Azar asked, searching her brother's face. "And why... why has your hair turned black?"

Arash stared at an invisible point among the flames. His face appeared hard and lifeless, as if all emotions within him had frozen. His eyes, once warm and kind, had now become like two cold, soulless stones.

"Dead. Kaveh's soldiers came... they were looking for people from that tribe." His voice was quiet and monotonous. "I killed them. All twelve of them."

A heavy silence fell over the space. In the cabin's silence, only the sound of Nika's gentle breathing—who had now fallen asleep—and the crackling of burning firewood could be heard.

Azar gently took her brother's hand. "Why did they take you and kill Sara?"

"I was betrayed," his gaze remained fixed on the fire. Someone sold me out, he thought to himself. These foolish people would do anything for a few pieces of flame stone. "Azar... I couldn't save her." He felt something inside him had died, the place where his heart once beat now empty and hollow.

"Nine years have passed... it was all pointless. My selection came when it was already too late." He clenched his fists, the veins in his hands bulging.

Azar sighed and sat beside her brother. She glanced at Nika, who had fallen into a deep sleep, the blanket wrapped tightly around her.

"Arash, you couldn't have predicted this. We trained for years in that ancient cave, but this power... this transformation... has its own rules. None of those ancient inscriptions said exactly when the spirit of ash, or the primal earth, would choose you. It's completely different from the primal fire ceremony."

In Arash's mind, images of that ancient cave came to life. A cave hidden deep in the mountain, in a place deep within the earth, which he discovered when they fled the capital and went beyond the walls, in search of the Flame stones.

Arash stood up and walked to the window. Snow continued to fall, illuminating the darkness of night. "It doesn't matter. Now that it's come, I can use it." His voice was cold. "We need to leave this place. By morning, more soldiers will come."

Azar asked anxiously, "Where will we go?"

"The capital," Arash answered without a moment's hesitation. "We'll bury Sara and then we'll go. No one should find us."

"But Arash, the capital... it's dangerous for us. We barely escaped from there."

"Everywhere is dangerous for those of us not chosen by the fire."

"But you have been chosen, while I might be taken into slavery again," Azar said with a slight tremor in her voice.

Arash's face remained impassive as he told his sister: "Being Ashborne does'nt make me any different from you"

Arash turned toward Nika and looked at his daughter's innocent face. For a brief moment, something in his gaze changed, a fleeting softness. I must protect her. The only thing I have left.

"Azar, we must go. This place is no longer safe either," Arash needed to protect his family.

Azar nodded in acknowledgment of Arash's words. "We need to get ready quickly."

Azar wanted to say something, but something in Arash's gaze stopped her. The brother she knew, a calm man with kind eyes, seemed to have gone. The man who now stood before her had eyes that showed no emotion, cold and calculating, like a hunter.

"Those inscriptions... they're about the path of being chosen by the primal earth. To go to the capital, you too must be chosen. You have no choice, Azar." Azar went to a wooden chest in the corner of the room and took out a scroll. "I wrote this myself from the ancient inscriptions in that cave. It might be useful in the capital, but we cannot understand some of its language. It's very ancient."

Arash took the scroll and placed it in a small pack that Azar had prepared. "Food and water are enough for a few days. We must leave before sunrise."

"Arash..." Azar paused, as if wanting to say something but couldn't find the words. "I'm afraid, Arash. What if I can't? What if I'm not chosen again? What if they take me into slavery again?"

A cold smile appeared on Arash's lips, a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Just as I saved you once, this time will be no different. Your brother is much stronger now." His gaze turned to the room where Sara's body lay. "Arash died that night with Sara."

Azar wiped away a tear that had gathered in the corner of her eye. "You're still Nika's father. Don't forget that."

For a moment, something gleamed in Arash's gaze, a spark of warmth in that frozen look. "I will never forget. I stay alive for her. For her, I will do anything."

In his mind, he added: For the blood that was spilled. Those who ordered this must pay the price.

That night, in the silence of the mountain cabin, as snow continued to fall and the cold made bones shiver, Arash made his decision. He would go to the capital, a place where he could both hide and nurture the power that had now awakened within him.

At dawn, before the first rays of sunlight appeared, Arash and Nika built a small grave for Sara behind the cabin, under a tall pine tree she had always loved. Nika placed a bunch of wild winter flowers that Azar had collected on the soil.

"Will Mom come back, Dad?" Nika asked in a small, trembling voice, her tiny hands placed in her father's large, rough hand.

Arash knelt down to be at his daughter's eye level. With his hand, he gently held her small chin and looked directly into her innocent eyes. "No, my dear. Mom won't come back to us. But she will always be in our hearts."

Then he slung a small backpack over his shoulder, took Nika's hand, and started walking toward the road that led to the capital. Azar hiding her tears so Nika wouldn't see.

Arash looked at Sara's grave one last time. "I will find them, my love, whatever it takes."

Azar nodded. "Let's go. There's a carriage at the bottom of the hill that goes in our direction. We need to hurry to catch it."

And so, Azar, Arash, and Nika, in the cold dawn of that winter day, stepped onto a path from which they knew there was no return. Behind them, smoke rose from the chimney of Azar's cabin into the sky, the last sign of warmth and safety they might never experience again.

As Arash walked, he mentally reviewed all possibilities. He needed to find a way into the capital, a safe place for Nika, and then... then he could search for those who had ordered his wife's murder. And anyone who stood in his way would pay a heavy price.

He looked at his daughter, who was bravely taking steps, her small hands firmly holding his. For you, Nika, for you I will stay alive. And for your mother's revenge, I will do whatever is necessary.

The snow continued to fall gently, erasing their footprints, as if they had never been there.

But... the kindled was near