Kael stepped forward, the swirling fire still orbiting him like a living aura. The Watchers hesitated. One of them—taller than the rest—lowered his hood. His face was covered in ash-like markings, eyes glowing faint red.
"You've accepted the Flamebond," he said. "Then you are marked for death."
"No," Kael replied, voice steady. "I'm marked for war."
Before the Watcher could respond, Kael raised his hand—and the fire responded like it had been waiting for centuries. A wave of flame surged forward, crashing like a tide. Trees bent away from it, the earth cracked, and the Watchers scattered.
Mira ducked beside the Emberroot, shielding her eyes. When the flames cleared, two of the cloaked figures lay unconscious. The lead Watcher stood firm, blade raised, runes glowing brighter.
"You've barely scratched the power," he growled. "You think fire makes you a king?"
"I don't want to be king," Kael said, eyes narrowing. "But I won't let you control me."
Their blades clashed—flame against rune. Sparks burst into the sky.
Behind them, the Emberroot pulsed once more. Its bark glowed red.
Mira grabbed Kael's arm. "We have to go! Reinforcements are coming!"
Kael turned away from the stunned Watcher.
"For now," he said. "But next time—they'll burn."
They disappeared into the Hollow.