C2 THE PATH OF EMBERS

The wind carried the scent of rain as Adekola¬de and Omolola stood before the Emberwood Training Grounds, a wide clearing encircled by ancient cedar trunks. Their bark glowed faintly, pulsing like sleeping hearts. Dozens of young cultivators practiced nearby, their movements slicing the air with disciplined grace.

Elder Mara walked with her hands clasped behind her back, long robes whispering over the grass. “The Path of Embers is not a road you walk halfway,” she said. “Once you begin, you walk it until you shine… or until you burn.”

Adekola¬de nodded. “I understand.”

Omolola shot him a sideways glance. “You think you understand.”

He smirked. “Then explain it to me.”

“You rush into danger without thinking,” she whispered sharply. “You don’t even know what your flame can do yet.”

He paused, her words striking deeper than she intended. She didn’t remember the world where he died saving her. But the instinct was the same. Omolola always tried to shield him, even when she didn’t know why.

Before he could answer, Elder Mara stopped in front of a stone monolith etched with glowing red symbols.

“This,” she said, “is the Emberstone. It will judge your potential.”

A hush fell across the training grounds. A few older teens paused their exercises, whispering among themselves.

“That’s the new boy?”

“Never seen him before.”

“A weakling like that walking the Path?”

“Poor thing won’t last a week.”

Omolola shot them a glare sharp enough to peel bark.

Adekola¬de inhaled deeply, placing both hands on the Emberstone. Heat rushed through his palms like a river of molten gold. He grit his teeth. His vision blurred. Something deep inside him stirred.

The ember. The seal. The flame that killed him once.

Then—

The stone flared.

Not soft red. Not faint orange.

But violent gold.

A shockwave blasted outward, rattling the trees and sending sparks twirling into the sky. Cultivators stumbled back. Elder Mara’s eyes widened.

Omolola froze, her basket dropping forgotten to the ground.

The Emberstone—silent for decades—let out a low, trembling hum.

“That is…” Elder Mara whispered, “…not possible.”

Adekola¬de stepped back, chest heaving. “What happened?”

Mara approached slowly, as if he were a creature made of lightning. “The Emberstone measures latent strength. Most children light it faintly. Some gifted ones make it glow. But only one person in recorded history made it shine gold.”

“Who?” Omolola breathed.

“The First Oracle.”

The clearing went silent.

Adekola¬de swallowed hard. “Is that… bad?”

“Bad?” Mara whispered. “It means your destiny is tied to something ancient and dangerous. It means the world will hunt you… or worship you.”

Omolola grabbed his arm. “Then he’s not walking this path alone.”

Mara’s gaze softened. “So be it. But understand, child—standing beside him means sharing his enemies… and his fate.”

Omolola tightened her grip. “I’m not afraid.”

Adekola¬de felt warmth spread across his chest—not power, but something gentler. Familiar. A thread that had stretched across worlds to pull them together again.

Mara raised two fingers. “Then let the training begin.”

Training began harshly.

Adekola¬de and Omolola were paired with other beginners, though many were older and far more experienced.

Master Rokan, a muscular man with arms like carved stone, paced in front of them. “Cultivation begins not with power,” he barked, “but with breath.”

He gestured at the class. “Sit.”

Everyone sank cross-legged onto the ground. Adekola¬de followed, though his body felt strange, too light compared to his old self.

“Close your eyes,” Rokan said. “Find your core. Feel your spiritual veins. Draw energy inward.”

Adekola¬de exhaled, letting the air settle. For a moment there was silence.

Then he felt it.

A pulse.

Like embers shifting in a fire pit.

But instead of warmth building slowly, a surge of blazing heat shot up his spine. He gasped, eyes snapping open. Flames flickered beneath his skin. A golden aura burst out of him like an explosion.

Students screamed.

Rokan dove backward.

Sparks scattered across the grass.

“Adekola¬de!” Omolola shouted, grabbing his shoulders.

The flames dimmed instantly.

Her touch calmed him.

It always had.

Rokan staggered back to his feet. “Boy… what in the three realms was that?!”

Mara approached, her expression unreadable. “The sealed flame is awakening faster than I expected.”

Adekola¬de clenched his fists. “I didn’t mean to. It just… happens.”

Rokan pointed a trembling finger at him. “That’s the kind of flare that could incinerate your own veins. Lose control again and you’ll burn yourself from the inside out.”

Omolola glared at the instructor. “Then teach him how not to lose control.”

Rokan stared at her. “You speak boldly for a child.”

She stepped forward, chin lifted. “I speak boldly for my… for my friend.”

Adekola¬de’s breath caught.

He remembered a different rain-soaked night, on a different world, where she had stood the same way in front of danger.

Mara raised a hand. “Enough. Adekola¬de must learn control immediately. Rokan, begin the Ember Breath Technique.”

Rokan muttered something under his breath but obeyed.

Adekola¬de sat again. Omolola sat beside him, close enough that their knees brushed.

“Breathe with me,” she whispered.

He nodded.

Rokan began the lesson. “Inhale as if drawing fire. Exhale as if releasing smoke.”

Adekola¬de matched Omolola’s pace.

Inhale.

Their shoulders rose together.

Exhale.

Their breaths softened the flames inside him.

“You’re doing it,” she murmured.

His aura steadied into a warm glow instead of a wildfire.

For the first time since waking in this world, Adekola¬de felt safe inside his own body.

Training ended at dusk. The sky turned violet as lanterns flickered to life.

Adekola¬de stretched his arms, muscles sore but alive.

“That wasn’t so bad,” he said.

Omolola raised an eyebrow. “You exploded. Twice.”

Before he could reply, a tall boy approached. He wore an ornate spear across his back, silver-tipped and polished. His black hair fell in sharp strands, and his smirk was sharper.

“You must be the golden-flare boy,” the stranger said. “Adekola¬de Adeleye, was it?”

Adekola¬de nodded cautiously. “Yeah.”

“I’m Zarak. Top disciple of Emberwood Village.”

Omolola crossed her arms. “Top in arrogance, maybe.”

Zarak ignored her. “You think one shiny glow makes you special? I bet you can’t even handle basic combat.”

Adekola¬de felt irritation spark. “I don’t need to prove anything to you.”

Zarak stepped forward, eyes narrowing. “Then prove it to everyone. Duel me.”

A crowd instantly gathered.

Omolola grabbed Adekola¬de’s wrist. “Don’t. He’s been training for years.”

Adekola¬de met her gaze. “I won’t lose.”

She bit her lip. “You don’t know how to fight in this body yet.”

He hesitated. She was right… but something about Zarak’s smug face lit a fuse in him.

Zarak tapped his spear on the ground. “What’s wrong? Scared?”

Adekola¬de stepped forward. “Fine.”

The crowd cheered.

Omolola groaned. “I’m going to kill him myself if you get hurt.”

Zarak circled him, spear spinning lazily. “Try to last ten seconds.”

Adekola¬de raised his fists. The stance felt foreign, unfamiliar compared to his old-world fighting style.

Zarak lunged.

Adekola¬de dodged by instinct. His body felt clumsy, but the flame inside him burned sharp, guiding him.

Zarak struck again. Adekola¬de stumbled back.

“Ade!” Omolola called. “Use your core! Not your arms!”

He steadied.

Inhale fire.

Exhale smoke.

The world slowed.

Zarak thrust the spear—

Adekola¬de sidestepped, caught the spear shaft, twisted, and drove his palm into Zarak’s chest.

A shockwave burst outward.

Zarak flew backward, crashing into the dirt as his spear clattered away.

Gasps rose from the crowd.

Omolola stared at Adekola¬de like she was seeing him for the first time.

Adekola¬de lowered his fists, chest heaving.

He hadn’t used a single martial form.

Just raw instinct.

Raw power.

Mara approached. “The Path of Embers has accepted you.”

Zarak groaned on the ground. “How…?”

Adekola¬de looked at his hand, still faintly glowing.

“I don’t know,” he said honestly.

Omolola smiled softly beside him. “I do.”

He turned.

“You’re stronger than you think.”

The warmth in her voice struck him deeper than any cultivation technique.

Adekola¬de exhaled.

A new life.

A new world.

And the girl he loved standing beside him from the beginning.

The Path of Embers had only just begun.