The Color of Flame

The summons came before dawn.

Velis climbed the Red Tower’s upper steps, the stone polished to a sheen that reflected firelight back at him. The air was cool, carrying the faint sting of incense burned in every hall.

The ironbound doors at the end opened for him at his touch, flame-etched sigils responding to his mark. He stepped into the office, the heart of his father’s dominion.

Yuris Toliar sat there, as immaculate as ever. The crimson coat fit him perfectly, embroidery catching the early light that spilled from the large window behind him. His beard was neatly trimmed, his black hair broken only by a single streak of silver that fell across his brow like a deliberate brushstroke. To anyone else, he looked like the very image of trust. A Marked people could follow. A father figure for the nation.

Velis knew better.

That warmth was an act. Beneath the veneer of benevolence, his father was not a protector but a captor.

“Velis,” Yuris greeted, rising with that soft, measured smile that had fooled so many. His voice carried an authority gentled by a father’s love. “It has been too long.”

Velis bowed his head slightly, his expression carefully blank. “High Marked.”

The smile faltered, only slightly, but Velis saw it. His father had never forgiven him for refusing the role of dutiful son. For placing duty above family. But Yuris’s definition of family was nothing more than a web of obligations and betrayals, spun for power and his interests alone.

“You are still formal,” Yuris said, settling back into his chair. “Even here, where none are watching.”

Velis did not answer. The less he gave, the less could be twisted.

“I hear,” Yuris said at last, “that Akalis Badania registers a ward today. Elsen’s son. A curious child, from all accounts.” He let the words linger.

Velis kept his expression impassive, but inside, interest stirred despite himself. Kade Badania. The boy had already drawn his curiosity with his sincerity, his openness to magic, and above all, the strange color of his flame. Different, yes. But difference did not always mean danger.

“I want you to attend the Ritual,” Yuris continued. “Observe. Report to me what you see.”

Velis’s voice was calm, giving nothing. “I am occupied. The kidnappings remain unresolved. Families look to us for answers. And soon I will travel to Ralensa. There are rumors of a sorcerer-training program. If true, it warrants investigation.”

Yuris chuckled softly, dismissive. “Ralensa clutches at scraps. A handful of gifted children will not give them Lunavin’s strength. Their efforts only remind the world of what they lack.”

Velis’s jaw tightened. Always the same arrogance. To Yuris, and to the Ruling Three themselves, other nations were desperate supplicants, grasping weaklings whose lives existed only to measure Lunavin’s superiority. Even the missing children were seen as symbols, tokens to remind the outside world of Lunavin’s abundance.

But Velis remembered their names. He was the one who went to the homes, who listened to parents weep and rage. His father did not care. He never had.

“I am occupied,” Velis said again.

Yuris studied him for a long moment, eyes narrowing in the smallest measure, knowingly. Then, quietly: “Why does Elsen’s boy interest you?”

Velis’s answer was sharp. “The question is why he interests you.”

A thin crack ran through the mask of warmth. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared. Yuris seated himself once more, fingers steepled beneath his chin.

“They whisper of a blue Flame,” he said softly. “If it is something new, it could unbalance us. If it is corrupted, it could spread. I will not risk either.”

Velis almost laughed. If Yuris wanted truth, he had an entire Tower of sorcerers at his command. He could send any of them to observe the Ritual. But no. He wanted Velis. He wanted the string pulled taut again.

Velis turned to go, unwilling to play the game.

And then his father’s voice came, as a knife slipped between ribs.

“Sabel misses you.”

Velis froze.

The mask cracked before he could stop it, his heart kicking hard. Three years had passed since he’d last seen her. Three years since Yuris had bound her with an oath to keep them apart.

“You may see her, if you like,” Yuris went on, voice soft, benevolent. “I will allow it. Time together, as siblings should.”

Velis forced himself to breathe. Forced the mask back into place. He would not give his father this victory.

Then the door opened.

Sabel stood there.

A long time had passed since Velis had last seen her, and in that time she had grown taller, her limbs lean with the wiry strength of youth. Sixteen now. Old enough to hold herself with pride, but still young enough that her cheeks held the faint roundness of childhood. Her amber eyes, large, fierce, their mother’s, lit the moment they found him. Tears brimmed, but her voice came determined.

“Velis.”

The sound of his name on her lips broke something in him. For years, she had been barred from speaking it, forbidden by the oath that Yuris had bound her with. Ordered never to see him, never to seek him, never to even let his shadow cross her thoughts without pain lancing through her. She should not have been able to stand before him without the oath flaring against her will.

He crossed the room before his mind caught up, pulling her into his arms. For a heartbeat, fear gnawed at him, fear that even this touch would wound her, but she clung to him fiercely, trembling, refusing to let go. Warmth, life, the faint scent of soap in her black hair. He hadn’t realized how much he missed her until now, how starved he was for this simple contact.

Behind them, Yuris’s voice flowed like poisoned honey.

“Isn’t it lovely, to have the family together again? Sabel has excelled in her mission. This reunion is her reward.”

Velis drew back, his hands still on her shoulders. He searched her face. “Are you all right?” he whispered.

Her chin lifted, eyes shining with a quiet fire. “I made this happen, Velis. I worked for it. I earned it.” Her voice didn’t waver. “I wanted to see you.”

Her voice was strong, but Velis heard what lay beneath. She was taking it onto herself, blaming herself, framing this reunion as something she had earned through obedience and strength. She thought she had to fix what Yuris had broken.

Guilt sank its claws into him. It wasn’t her fault. It was his. He had escaped their father’s grasp, and Yuris had made sure she never could.

She had been forced into an oath as a child, barely awakened. A vow she had not understood. Consent magic demanded understanding; law required it to never be used against a child. But Yuris had bypassed both. The head of the Red Tower, the man sworn to uphold the law, had broken it deliberately. He had missed his chance to bind Velis and would not make the same mistake with Sabel. He had tied her with double the strength, his own magic reinforcing hers until the bond was unbreakable.

It was illegal. It was monstrous. And it had worked.

The smile on Yuris’s face widened, a portrait of fatherly pride. “The king of the Wild himself sings her praises,” he said smoothly. “He wants her posted permanently at his court. But I cannot let my little girl go so far from me. Not yet.”

Velis turned, fury tightening his jaw. The man had not moved from his chair, still lounging as though this were a pleasant family visit.

“Sabel is the strongest sorcerer in Lunavin,” Yuris continued softly. “Second only to me. I cannot risk her strength diminishing. Elsen’s boy could upset that balance. You will find out how powerful he is.”

Velis did not miss the omission. His father never spoke of his strength, though the Tower knew it well enough. To acknowledge it would be to admit failure, that the son he could not control had grown formidable on his own. Yuris would rather pretend Velis’s power did not exist than face the reminder of what he had lost.

Velis looked at his sister again. Amber eyes bright with defiance and desperation both. She was bound, yes, but she was also her own person, burning with will. He felt her hand squeeze his, hidden from Yuris’s gaze.

She was saying: I will endure. I will fight, in the ways I can.

And all Velis could think was: It should never have been her fight at all.

And in that moment, Velis knew he was caught exactly where Yuris had always wanted him, bound not by oath or force, but by love. By the one bond he could never sever.

****

Kade stood barefoot on the dais,

the white robe hanging loose over his frame.

It was finer than the hospital whites he’d worn the day he first woke in this world, thicker and fancier, but the feeling was eerily similar.

Like standing on the edge of something important.

Across from him, the High Priest waited.

He didn’t question his age, didn’t glance toward the others for explanation or concern.

He simply was.

Older up close, his face looked ancient, his hair bound back more silver than gold, catching light from the sunlight above.

To the side, Kade could feel the others watching.

Akalis stood with her arms folded, her face the same unreadable calm she wore like armor.

Bilia bounced on her heels, practically vibrating with excitement.

Hanel, as always, stood still quiet, his gaze focused, absorbing every detail.

And farther off, as constant as a shadow, Velis in his crimson coat.

His posture impeccable.

His presence unwanted.

The High Priest raised his hands.

The moonwater vessel floated just above them, catching glimmers of silver-blue from the sanctum lights.

Kade touched the ribbon around his wrist.

The three beads, silver, red, and gold clicked softly against his skin.

His magic was none of those.

Still, he would get answers.

He squared his shoulders.

****

“The Rite begins,” the High Priest intoned, his voice like a bell struck deep inside the stone.

“Let the moons see the soul and call it forth.”

He tipped the vessel.

The first drop of moonwater struck Kade’s crown.

And hissed.

Like oil on a hot pan, the liquid seared against his skin, heated.

Instant.

Immense.

The air around him shimmered.

The next few drops fell, and the hissing deepened,

water burning away before it could run down his face.

The vessel trembled slightly in the priest’s hands.

His calm faltered,

just enough for him to see it.

The heat climbed in his bones,

rising through him like a forge stoked too high.

His magic pressed outward, as if trying to escape, like light forced through cracks in stone.

And when it finally did…

Threads of blue unwound from his body, slowly at first, flickering like smoke, and then burst outward in a sudden flare.

Light, blazing and uncontainable.

A miniature blue sun ignited at the center of the sanctum.

Gasps rang out.

Even the sacred silence broke.

****

“It’s… hot,” Bilia breathed.

Kade’s heart thudded against his ribs.

He blinked, squinting against the brightness pouring from his own skin.

Light curled from his arms, from his chest, his fingertips.

He wasn’t in pain.

But it felt like he should be with much fire.

He turned, searching the room.

The scribe who had led him here was frozen, mouth agape, hands slack at his sides.

Akalis hadn't moved,

but her eyes were alert now, no longer hiding anything.

Hanel stepped back half a pace,

his features tight, his voice low.

“This…” he said, “This is like nothing I’ve seen before.”

Kade met the High Priest’s eyes.

“What does it mean?” he asked.

He didn’t answer immediately.

His gaze tracked the light as if studying a rare creature.

Slowly, reverently, he raised a hand toward one of the blue threads.

He didn’t touch it.

“This is not a moonlight alignment,” he said.

A tremor passed through him.

“Is that… bad?”

“No,” he said, voice soft.

“Not bad. But different.”

He tilted his head, silver-gold hair shifting with the movement.

“It answered the Rite. That much is clear. And the power…”

He trailed off.

“I haven’t seen magic like this in decades.”

At the edge of the sanctum, Velis moved.

Just one step.

Subtle.

Watchful.

The priest looked back at Kade.

“Mother Moon blesses us with light,” he said.

“And you carry it in abundance. Despite the unusual colour.”

The glow began to fade slowly, like embers curling into ash.

The blue ribbons retreated, reluctant,

coiling back into his skin.

The heat dispersed.

The moonwater on the floor had vanished, evaporated without a trace.

The room held its breath.

The High Priest stepped closer, his expression turned solemn now.

Less awe.

More weight.

“Marked with no known alignment,” she said quietly.

“The Rite confirmed no allegiance to any of the Three Flames.”

The words fell like stone.

Kade’s breath stilled.

His hands, still faintly warm, clenched around the ribbon and the three beads.

The silence continued with no celebration or smiles.

And with the slow, creeping sense that he had failed at something he hadn’t known he could fail.

A strange weight settled inside him, a mixture of worry and fear.

For the first time since waking in this new world…

He felt wrong.

Out of place.