Embers to Flames (Fates Entwined #1)

Chapter Fifteen

I pull the carriage door open and prepare to climb inside, but Theo’s hand grasps my arm to stop me. “Uh uh… you’re riding with me, beautiful.”

Erhorn and the other three high lords have begun to descend the palace stairs.

“There is only room for them in there. Besides, we’ll get there faster if we fly. And it’ll give me a chance to show you around—alone.” Theo says with a wink.

I watch as the four silver haired men approach, their solemn steps belying a heated disagreement taking place between them.

“Are they—arguing?” I ask Theo in a hushed voice.

“Oh, this is nothing… just wait until they all get wine in them later.” Theo responds as he crosses his arms and gives me a smirk. “At the end of the day, they’re just a bunch of grumpy old Elves.”

“Who are you calling old?” exclaims Lord Ailwin. He leans down to whisper in my ear, “If you want old… ask Lord Klaern just how the first Dragon came to be. He would know—he was there.”

Lord Klaern quickly interjects, “I was not!” He then turns to look at me. “My grandfather was though. Told me stories if you ever want to hear them.”

Lord Erhorn presents me with a grin and a wink as he climbs into the carriage.

Lord Phirel is the last one to enter, but he pauses a moment, “I just want to tell you that I think it was incredibly brave of you to tell the truth in court yesterday. Takes guts to stand up for what is right. Especially when it is against your own kind.” He taps my shoulder lightly and then turns to climb into the carriage. His touch is gentle, almost reverent, as if I am a rare and precious treasure.

Ailwin sticks his head out of the window and looks towards Theo, “Why don’t you give Rosanhi the Waterfall Chambers. I think she’ll enjoy that.”

Theo nods his head and then steps towards me. “Ready?” he asks, putting out his arms to take hold of me. I take one last look towards the castle. The King stands on his balcony, watching us leave with a stoic expression. I bow to him, and to my surprise, he returns the gesture with a slight bow of his own.

I step into Theo’s embrace. Only this time, I drape my arms around his neck. He lifts me up slightly so I can wrap my legs around his waist.

“You’re giving me one too many naughty ideas, Rose.” He unfurls his resplendent wings, the white feathers catching the sunlight. “Ever done it on a cloud?” He asks teasingly. Before I can respond, we take to the skies, soaring towards the ancient temple hidden within the heart of the mountainside.

Below us, the four high lords embark on their own solemn procession, the steady clop of hooves against cobblestone echoing their resolve as their carriage winds its way through the slumbering forest. I lean my head against Theo’s strong shoulder, taking in the cool morning breeze as it flows through my hair. Theo’s wings beat rhythmically, carrying me effortlessly through the air. I can’t help but feel a sense of peace and contentment wash over me during the flight. It’s as if the world below is untouched by the troubles that plague it, and for this brief moment, I can almost forget about the danger that lay ahead.

Theo gracefully descends onto the weathered stone steps, carefully placing me on the ground. My feet sink into the soft dirt, and I take a moment to steady myself before straightening up.

Perched precariously on the cliffs of the rugged mountain, the ancient temple of Dragon’s Edge stands testament to a bygone era. Sculpted directly into the mountainside, its battered facade is a mosaic of stone and moss, blending seamlessly with the natural landscape. The entrance is a grand archway, flanked by statues of forgotten deities, their visages worn smooth by the winds of time. Theo reaches out to take my hand, and I hesitate.

Theo senses my reluctance, “It’s ok. We are the only ones here.” His reassurance instills some courage in me, and I let him lead me through the expansive entryway.

Inside, the temple is a labyrinth of corridors and chambers, each hewn from the living rock with painstaking care. The air is cool and still, heavy with the scent of earth and incense. Shafts of light pierce the dim interior through narrow openings in the rock and the sound of a distant waterfall resonates through the stone, a constant soothing presence.

Theo turns to a set of stone stairs and points up, “Come, your sleeping chambers are just up here.”

As we make our way up the stairs, I can’t help but feel a sense of reverence for the ancient temple. The walls are adorned with detailed carvings depicting stories of Dragon riders and the powerful bond they had once shared with their Dragons. The carvings tell tales of a fated connection transcending any human comprehension .

In each depiction, the Dragon rider and their Dragon are bound by an invisible thread of destiny, their fates entwined from the moment of their conception. Dragons, majestic and otherworldly beings, are portrayed as magnificent creatures, their scales shimmering in various hues of color. They soar through the skies with ease, their wings spread wide, their eyes alight with a fire that is both terribly fierce and immeasurably wise.

Their riders, too, are depicted with equal grandeur, their demeanor regal and unwavering, their eyes reflecting the same fire that burns within the hearts of the Dragons.

“Each rider is said to possess a unique bond with their Dragon, a bond that enables them to communicate through thought and feeling alone,” Theo says as we continue down the hallway. “It is a bond that transcends language, culture, and time, a bond that is forged from the very essence of their souls.”

I find myself drawn to a particular carving, depicting a young Dragon rider and their Dragon, locked in an embrace that emanates love that is fierce and unbreakable. The Dragon rider’s eyes are closed, their face a picture of serene contentment, while the Dragon’s eyes are wide open, staring intently into the rider’s soul. The bond between them is obvious, a connection that cannot be broken, a connection that is meant to last for all eternity.

We reach the end of the hallway and enter through the last door. The bed chamber is dimly lit, with only a few candles flickering from their tall candelabras. An imposing iron bed commands attention in the room, its frame forged with meticulous craftsmanship. The headboard and footboard are adorned with intricate Dragon motifs, their serpentine bodies and fierce expressions captured in exquisite detail. The Dragons’ scales glint in the dim light, giving the impression of movement as shadows play across the metal. The bed is dressed in dark, luxurious linens, with a deep green velvet throw that echoes the mythical creatures’ scales. Heavy, iron posts rise at each corner, supporting a canopy of rich, emerald fabric that drapes elegantly, adding a touch of regal splendor to the ancient temple setting.

The view of the waterfall from the ancient stone-mullioned window is breathtaking. The water shimmers as it catches the afternoon sunlight, creating a mesmerizing display of light and sound. Beneath the window, a cushioned bench beckons invitingly. Plush cushions—covered in the same rich, emerald, green fabric as the bed—provide a comfortable seat. As I settle onto the bench, the soft cushions envelop me in comfort, and I lean back against the window frame, feeling the cool stone against my skin. The sound of the waterfall lulls me into a state of calm, and I feel my eyelids growing heavy.

Theo settles down beside me.

“I need you to explain to me what is to happen here tonight.” I say. “I still have no idea what exactly happens during this ceremony.”

He looks at me, his expression serious. “We’ve talked about this. ”

“Yes, I know we’ve talked about it. What I’m asking is… for details. Am I allowed to attend?”

Theo’s eyes met mine with a gravity that belied the calmness of his voice. “Come take a walk with me. It will help me to clarify things a bit,” he says, rising from the bench and extending his arm out to me, inviting me to take his hand.

At the heart of the temple lies an inner sanctum. Theo guides me into the cavernous room with a ceiling that opens to the sky, allowing the daylight to cascade in. At the center of the room is a square fire pit dominating the space.

“At midnight tonight, when the moon is at its highest, the four High Lords will stand at the cardinal points of the square fire pit, each representing their direction,” Theo explains, his voice reverberating through the chamber. He gestures towards the pit, where each side represents one of the four elements. North is adorned with symbols of earth, sturdy and grounding. East is marked by air, with delicate, swirling patterns. South is dedicated to fire, fierce and consuming, while West is devoted to water, fluid and ever-changing.

Theo continues, “Each lord will draw upon their own life force, offering a drop of blood to the flames while reciting an ancient incantation. This act is a covenant, a plea for guidance from the Gods that weave our fates. Once the lords call upon the essence of their elements, it is our hope that the fire will respond and provide prophecy to the chosen one.”

He pauses, ensuring I grasp the significance. “As for your presence, yes, you are permitted to attend. But know this: only those with the purest intentions can withstand the intensity of a prophecy. When the High Lords bleed into the flames, and if the Gods intend on revealing the prophecy, the fire will blaze with a color unseen by any human eye. It is then that the chosen one will be revealed through the fire’s will.”

“And the incantation?” I pressed, eager to understand more.

“The words are not merely spoken; they are felt,” Theo said, his eyes reflecting the fire’s future glow. “Together the lords will recite the incantation, their voices will harmonize with their respective elements, all converging at the heart of the fire pit, creating a vortex of energy. This energy will seek out the chosen one and bestow upon them a vision of our world’s potential fate.”

“Do you really believe that this so-called, chosen one, exists?” I ask.

Theo’s gaze remains fixed on the fire pit as he responds, “I have seen the ceremony performed before, and I have witnessed its power. Yet the chosen one has never been revealed. The Fire Rites are not a matter of belief, but of faith.”

The lords arrive just as we are exiting the sanctum. Erhorn approaches us appearing exasperated.

“I’m getting… too old… for those stairs.” He says between breaths. “Come. Let us eat. The moon will rise quickly tonight.”

“Just how old is Erhorn?” I whisper to Theo, who smirks.

“Old enough to remember when Dragons were just overgrown lizards,” he quips.

I raise an eyebrow. “Seriously, though.”

Theo chuckles. “Let’s just say Erhorn was around when they were still deciding if fire was a good idea or not. The other High Lords aren’t far behind. They’ve all got at least three centuries under their belts. And let me tell you, those belts have seen better days.”

I glance at the silver-haired lords, noticing the weathered lines on their faces. “So, they’re basically walking history books?”

“More like ancient relics with a pinch of attitude,” quipped Theo with a wink. “Their hair might be silver, but their wit is still razor-sharp.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “And here I thought elves were all about grace and wisdom.”

“Oh, we are,” Theo says, leaning in conspiratorially. “But we also have a flair for the dramatic. Keeps things interesting.”

“Interesting is one word for it,” I tease. “I’d say you’re all just a bunch of show-offs. ”

Theo feigns a hurt expression. “Show-offs? Us? Never. We simply appreciate the finer things in life.”

“Like making humans feel inferior?” I quip, raising an eyebrow.

“Only the ones we like,” he replies with a mischievous grin. “Consider it a compliment.”

Curiosity gets the better of me. “And what about you? You’ve been suspiciously quiet about your own age.”

“Me? I’m practically a spring chicken compared to them. Let’s just say I’m old enough to know better, but young enough to do it anyway.”

I smirk, leaning in closer. “So old enough to know better than to fall for a Human girl, but young enough to do it spectacularly anyway, huh?”

Theo’s eyes twinkle with amusement. “Exactly. And I have no regrets. Falling for you is the most fun I’ve had in a decade.”

“So, you are falling for me?”

Theo chuckles, “Aren’t we clever?”

I gleam up at him, unable to remove the smile from my face.

We enter a grand hall, following the High Lords. The table is overflowing with opulent dishes, the scent of roasted meats, savory stews, and ripe fruits filling the air. Overwhelmed by the extravagant display, I furrow my brow in wonder. I don’t recall having seen any servants or cooks. “Is it just us here? ”

“My sweet Rose, your perception never ceases to amaze me,” Theo says, gazing down at me with candlelight dancing in his eyes. “Do you remember the tray of berries from our first meeting?” He wiggles his fingers playfully as he speaks.

Oh yea, I remember.

“It must be nice to just conjure up whatever you want or need.” I say, rolling my eyes.

“It doesn’t quite work like that. The objects that materialize must originate from a place that’s already familiar or previously witnessed. This splendid banquet, for instance… is sourced directly from the Capital’s kitchens.”

I can tell I’m blankly staring at Theo, rendered speechless by this information. Theo lets out a quiet chuckle. “It can be a difficult notion to comprehend. Just know that it does—and will—come in handy.” He says with a gleam of pride as he guides me to a seat at the table.

The lords continue through the feast, muttering back and forth. Peevishly discussing matters of the kingdom and arguing over histories. Telling stories I’ve never before heard. As the conversation turns to lighter topics, and the hours pass quickly, the moon begins to rise. The High Lords excuse themselves, each leaving the hall in silence. Theo looks at me solemnly.

“It’s time,” he says. “The moon has now reached its highest point.”

We walk through the grand stone archway of the sanctum, and I can feel the anticipation building in my chest. Elves from every corner of the land begin to stream into the hall, their colorful robes and jeweled headdresses glinting in the firelight.

The high lords have taken their places, each standing before their respective elemental totems. Each holding a small dagger in their right hand. The air is thick with the scent of sage and smoke. I look up through the opening in the ceiling at the vast night sky. Clouds that cover the moon suddenly disperse, bathing the temple in a silvery glow. In solidarity, the high lords each place their blades to their opposing palms, slicing through flesh. Crimson torrents of blood flow from their bodies, cascading into the roaring flames below. Each drop of blood seems to sizzle and hiss as it hits the inferno.

Erhorn raises his hands, calling forth the first incantation, his voice strong and commanding. As he speaks, a breeze ruffles my hair and the flames in the fire pit dance with new-found vigor. The other high lords follow, their voices blending together in a haunting harmony.

By the whispers of the ancient seers,

Through the veil where time disappears,

Reveal the threads of fate to me,

A glimpse of what is yet to be.

Eyes of the oracle, open wide,

Across the stars, through the astral tide,

Unravel the secrets, let them unfold ,

Show the visions that the future holds.

In this sacred space, I now invoke,

The power to see beyond the smoke,

Let the prophecy come forth and shine,

Guiding light of the divine.

As the high lords speak the ancient words, I find my breath becoming suddenly shallow and my heart races. I close my eyes, focusing on the sensations that wash over me. The power of the elements. The weight of their history.

Smoke begins to fill the room. Smoke so thick it clings to me. Sudden flashes of crimson red firelight begin shooting out of the pit and swirl around the room. My vision is hazy, and I lose sight of Theo.

“Theo!” I scream his name. No response. I can feel the hot salty tears as they stream down my cheeks. I’m not sure if it’s the smoke, or my fear.

I struggle to breathe. I cough in an attempt to clear my chest of the shadows that creep through every orifice. The flames surround me, enveloping me in their heat. Surrounded, I stand at the heart of a firestorm that dances to an ancient rhythm. The fire is alive, a writhing serpent of orange and gold that licks at my skin, but doesn’t burn, a paradox of danger and beauty. With arms outstretched, I summon the essence of the blaze, feeling the heat surge through my veins as they weightlessly lift me into the air, a power both exhilarating and terrifying.

Around me, the world is a tapestry of light and shadow, every detail etched in the fierce glow of the fire’s embrace. I am the master of this flame, the keeper of its secrets, and in this moment, I am infinite.

I am not scared of the fire. I am the fire.

Theo steps into the inferno, his steely gaze fixed upon me. The flames seem to welcome him with open arms, parting to make way for his entrance instead of scorching him.

“I will walk through the flames and let them consume me, if it means I can hold you once more,” he declares, his voice unwavering as the fire roars around him.

He reaches out, and as our hands touch, a surge of energy passes between us, a fusion of fire and flesh. Together we stand, two beings intertwined by love and flame. Theo’s lips meet mine.

He breathes life into me as he whispers, “Close your eyes, Rosanhi. Close them, and it will all fade away.”

I surrender to his words, allowing the cacophony of the inferno to fade into silence. The heat that once consumed my thoughts now recedes, replaced by a cool serenity that flows from Theo’s touch. In his arms, the chaos of the world is tamed, the fire’s fury quelled by the strength of our bond. I take one last look into Theo’s deep golden eyes.

“Please, my sweet, just close your eyes.” Theo begs .

I obey, my eyelids fluttering shut. The air cools, the flames die down, the breeze fades away. Theo’s voice guides me through the abyss that I can feel myself falling into. He is a warm and steady presence in the darkness.

The transformation begins as a whisper, a subtle shift that stirs within the depths of my soul. My skin tingles, each cell alight with the magic of change. The world around me blurs, hues merging into a kaleidoscope of colors I’ve never seen before. My senses sharpen, the rustling leaves now a chorus, the earth’s fragrance a heady perfume. Bones lengthen, muscles weave into new forms of strength and grace. And then, the most peculiar sensation of all—my ears, reshaping, reaching for the sky. It’s a dance of nature and magic, a rebirth into an existence where every breath is a song, and every step is a poem. With each passing moment, I am more alive than I have ever been.

I am becoming an Elf.