Flamebound: Rise of the Cursed Prince

Morning came quietly to the Pierce estate—but peace was absent.

Aaron woke to the faint, acrid scent of burnt linen clinging stubbornly to his sheets. The scorch marks on his palms had faded, yet the skin tingled, as if a phantom flame still pulsed just beneath the surface.

He passed Kain in the hallway but said nothing. The servant gave only a brief, acknowledging nod—no reprimand, no warning—just a single look that spoke volumes: You've crossed a line. There is no turning back.

Aaron spent the morning polishing lanterns along the garden corridors, but his thoughts drifted endlessly back to the mirror, and the echoing words that had etched themselves into his bones:

> "You are the last Lineborn of the Sky Flame."

He didn't truly understand their meaning. Not yet.

And yet… something inside him had woken.

---

As the sun dipped behind silver willows in the eastern courtyard, Lord Frankfurt Pierce summoned him.

Aaron stood once more in the Red Salon, now bathed in the flicker of low candlelight. The air smelled faintly of ink and smoke. Frankfurt sat near the fireplace, a book without a title resting in his hands.

"You opened the door," Frankfurt said without looking up.

Aaron hesitated. "Yes."

A pause. Then the book snapped shut.

"Describe what you saw."

Aaron took a breath and recounted every detail—the glowing glyphs, the obsidian chamber, the mirror, the older reflection, the voice that named him Lineborn.

When he finished, Frankfurt rose and moved to the window, placing a hand on the cold glass, as if reaching for something beyond the garden walls.

"So... it begins again," he murmured.

Aaron blinked. "What begins?"

Frankfurt turned, his eyes suddenly seeming centuries old. "The last time the Sky Flame awakened, an entire kingdom burned. And that was with three of you. Now, there is only one."

Aaron's blood ran cold. "What exactly is the Sky Flame?"

Frankfurt stepped forward, voice lowered. "A gift from the stars. A power older than magic, older than gods. It chooses a vessel every few centuries—always one born under rare signs, always one with eyes like the sky."

He paused. "It is also… a curse."

Aaron frowned. "What kind of curse?"

Before Frankfurt could answer, the doors burst open.

Kain entered, for once visibly alarmed. His usually stoic face was tight, and his gloves were streaked with dust and ash.

"My lord," he said, "there's been an incident in Takoba."

Frankfurt's brow furrowed. "Explain."

Kain held up a small silver token, burnt at the edges, embossed with the royal crest.

"One of the scouts near the market district witnessed a burst of unnatural blue fire—from a child. Sky-colored eyes. No known family. The child vanished before contact."

Aaron's breath caught.

Another one?

Frankfurt examined the token closely. "This is no coincidence. Either the bloodline was never truly extinct… or something is awakening them."

Aaron stepped forward. "What do we do?"

Frankfurt's gaze was sharp. "We? No. You will remain here. You're unstable. Untrained. You've just begun to awaken."

Aaron's voice was firm. "But if there's another—someone like me—shouldn't I help?"

Frankfurt was silent a long moment, then finally nodded.

"Kain will accompany you. You'll go to Takoba at dusk. Find the child. If they are what we fear… bring them here. Quietly."

Aaron's heart thundered.

For the first time since arriving, he would walk among the city again—but not as the lost boy he once was. Now, as something else.

Something powerful.

As he turned to leave, Frankfurt called after him.

"And Aaron—"

He looked back.

"Do not use the flame. Not yet. Not until you understand what it will cost you."

---

That night, Aaron stood once again before the iron gates of the Pierce estate—but this time, they swung open for him.

Beside him, Kain adjusted his gray cloak and fastened a silver blade to his belt.

"Nervous?" Kain asked, voice neutral.

Aaron exhaled slowly. "Yes."

Kain smirked faintly. "Good. Fear means you're still human."

Together, they descended the stone steps into the thick fog of Gizana—toward the twisting streets of Takoba, and the spark of something far greater than either could imagine.