They found her in the valley ruins, dancing in ash.
Not weeping. Not hiding.
Dancing.
A girl no older than Elliot, barefoot, wild hair matted with soot and leaves. She twirled through the dead grass like she'd been waiting for centuries and only just remembered she was alive.
When Kaelith reached for her blade, Elliot stopped her.
Because the girl's eyes — bright ember-orange and rimmed in black — were just like his.
Except they didn't hold sorrow.
They held joy.
---
She saw them.
Stopped.
And smiled.
> "Finally," she said. "They send you. The favored mistake."
Her voice was light, almost musical, but Elliot heard the tremble beneath it — the same one that lived inside him when he was close to burning.
> "Who are you?" he asked.
> "Liora," she said with a grin. "Failed Vessel #7. Although the Watchers preferred 'Unstable Variant.' Rolls off the tongue better, right?"
Kaelith stepped forward. "You're a Flameborn?"
Liora tilted her head. "Define 'born.' I was more… assembled. They took pieces from what was left of Vaelion and shoved them into a thousand orphans until one didn't melt."
She leaned forward, eyes gleaming.
> "I melted last."
---
Elliot swallowed the bile rising in his throat.
> "Why are you here?"
Liora walked past Kaelith like she wasn't even armed.
Stopped right in front of Elliot.
> "Because I burned down the place they made me in. Because I got tired of waiting for the gods to come kill me. Because when I heard your flame scream, mine finally answered."
She placed a hand on his chest — over the Mark.
> "You're not chosen. You're not divine. You're the matchstick they regret lighting."
---
Kaelith yanked her back, blade between them.
Liora didn't flinch.
Just smiled at Kaelith and said sweetly, "You'll lose him, you know. To the fire. Or to me."
Kaelith's voice turned low. "Try it."
Liora winked.
> "I don't need to try. I just need to wait."
---
Later that night, Elliot let her stay at their camp.
Kaelith hated it — refused to sleep until she was sure Liora was too far from them to whisper poison.
But Elliot?
He couldn't sleep because deep inside, her presence stirred something uncomfortable:
Recognition.
Not of her face.
But of the part of him that liked what she said.
That wanted to stop resisting.
---
Liora, sitting by herself, whispered to the fire:
> "Two flames. Only one throne."
And she smiled.
---