Flamebound: Rise of the Cursed Prince

They moved like ghosts—six figures cloaked in gray, faces hidden behind masks carved from bone. Silent. Swift. Deadly.

Aaron stood with the child behind him, heart pounding fiercely. Kain sprang forward like a shadow, his blade singing as sparks flew on impact with the first attacker.

But it was six against two.

And one of them didn't know how to fight.

"Keep the child behind you!" Kain shouted, deflecting a curved dagger aimed at Aaron's ribs.

Aaron clenched his fists, unsure. Beneath his skin, he felt the warmth again—the flicker of fire clawing to break free.

But Frankfurt's warning echoed in his mind:

> Do not use the flame. Not yet.

Suddenly, the child grabbed his sleeve. "They… want the spark," they whispered, voice barely audible. "They smell it—in me, in you."

Aaron looked down. "What are you?"

The child blinked slowly. "We're… the same."

---

Across the plaza, one attacker began chanting in a tongue Aaron didn't know. A circle of glowing thorns shimmered in midair—a barrage of red energy shot toward them.

Instinctively, Aaron raised his arm. The air between him and the spell ignited—a dome of pale-blue flame flared to life, absorbing the attack.

He stared at his trembling hand. "I didn't mean to do that."

The child's eyes widened. "The spark… is waking."

---

The Child's Power: Ash Memory

Stepping forward just a foot, the child whispered words that fell like dust through silence.

The ash at their feet stirred, swirling like smoke around their form. From the ashes, images flickered—echoes of the attackers' recent movements, where they had stepped, where they would strike next.

"Watch," the child said. "The ash remembers."

Aaron watched the ghostly ash-shapes play out moments ahead—a premonition.

A blade aimed at Kain's blind side.

"Behind you!" Aaron called.

Kain spun, slicing the attacker's leg clean through. "Useful," he muttered.

---

Introducing the Enemy: The Pale Thorn

One cloaked figure pulled off his mask, revealing a face marked by ritual scars. His eyes were black—not with magic, but with centuries of devotion to an ancient cause.

"You do not understand what you carry," he hissed at Aaron. "That flame is a disease. We are its cure."

Aaron stepped forward, shielding the child. "Who are you?"

"We are The Pale Thorn," the man said proudly. "The world bled the last time your kind ruled. We buried your ancestors once. We will do it again."

Aaron raised his palm. "Try it."

The man charged—but didn't get far.

Aaron didn't just summon the flame this time. He unleashed it.

A spiraling column of blue fire erupted from his hand, twisting like a living serpent. It didn't burn the buildings, nor harm the child. It moved with purpose.

The flame struck the attacker's chest, hurling him backward into a wall—unconscious but breathing.

Aaron staggered, breath ragged. "That… shouldn't have worked."

The remaining attackers melted back into the shadows without a word—leaving only their fallen behind.

---

Kain approached slowly, wiping blood from his blade. "Well. That was reckless."

Aaron turned to the child, watching the last flickers of flame dance between his fingers.

"You said we're the same," he asked gently. "What's your name?"

The child blinked. "I was never given one."

Aaron looked to Kain, who shrugged. "Name them, then."

He knelt, placing a steady hand on the child's shoulder. "Then from now on… your name is Ashen."

---

At a Glance:

Aaron's power (Sky Flame): Partially awakened—instinctive, fierce, protective.

Ashen's power (Ash Memory): Can draw echoes of past events from ash—visions that aid in combat and foresight.

The Pale Thorn: A secretive, fanatical order viewing the Lineborn as abominations to be eradicated. They wield ancient knowledge and fear the true awakening of the Sky Flame.