A laugh escaped me, low and smoky. He wasn't wrong. Fire owed me everything. Last winter, when the blizzard had buried the passes and the other scouts were losing toes to frostbite, it was my heat that kept us alive. Not a blanket. Not a spell from the soft-handed mages in their towers. Just me, Lily Starfire, pulling a core of warmth from a single damp twig until it roared loud enough to scare the wolves away.
"Doing what?" I kept my eyes on the flames. A tendril of heat curled toward my outstretched palm, not burning, just tasting . lily starfire pov
I grabbed my satchel, the leather still warm from where I’d been sitting. The journey ahead would be long. But I was Lily Starfire. I didn't need a torch, a lantern, or the sun. A laugh escaped me, low and smoky
I watched them spiral upward, each orange spark a tiny sun born from a log I’d chosen, a flame I’d whispered to. The others saw fire. I saw a language. The crackle wasn't random noise; it was the pop of a secret shared between me and the deep, molten heart of the world. Last winter, when the blizzard had buried the
Ashborne.
He paused his sharpening. "What's it saying?"
The embers of the campfire weren’t just light. They were mine .