Flames surrounded him, but they weren't his own.

Adrian stood in the center of a circular chamber hewn from black stone, its walls inscribed with symbols that pulsed with an eerie crimson light. Around him, twelve figures in obsidian robes formed a perfect circle, their faces hidden beneath deep hoods. Each held a staff topped with a small cage containing a different colored flame—red, blue, green, yellow, and others he couldn't name.

"The fire mark has awakened," intoned a voice from the tallest figure. "We have felt its resonance."

"It is the fifth to manifest in this cycle," said another, this one's voice distinctly feminine. "The pattern accelerates."

The central figure raised a gloved hand. "The vessels must be gathered. All of them."

A third figure stepped forward, placing a map on a stone altar at the circle's center. Adrian couldn't move, couldn't speak, but he could see—lines of fire spreading across the parchment, converging on specific points.

"The water bearer is already in our custody," the figure reported. "The earth bearer died resisting. The wind bearer remains elusive."

"And the fire bearer?" asked the leader.

"Located," replied the subordinate, pressing a finger to the map. A bright spot flared where the finger touched. "Here. In the valley of the blind seer."

The leader nodded slowly. "Then we proceed as planned. Dispatch the Collectors."

"What of the interference at Forest Star?" asked the female voice. "Our ritual was disrupted."

"A temporary setback. The sigil continues to form." The leader swept his hand over the map, and Adrian saw with horror that the lines of fire formed a pattern identical to the burns spreading through the forest around Elarala's valley. "When completed, it will amplify our reach. The fire bearer cannot hide their signature."

The circle of figures began to chant in unison, their voices blending into a dissonant harmony that made Adrian's blood feel like ice despite the surrounding heat. The flames in their staff-cages grew brighter, pulsing in rhythm with the chant.

As the chanting intensified, Adrian finally found he could move. He reached for his own fire, calling it forth to defend himself—but nothing happened. The mark on his chest remained cold, unresponsive.

"Your power is not yours to command, vessel," said the leader, turning toward Adrian as if seeing him for the first time. "It was never yours."

The figure raised its hand, and all twelve caged flames surged toward Adrian in a blinding convergence of light and heat—

Adrian jerked awake, gasping for breath, his body drenched in sweat. The room around him was illuminated by an orange glow—every candle, lamp, and the small hearth in his cottage had ignited simultaneously. The flames danced wildly before settling into a steady, pulsing rhythm that matched his racing heartbeat.

Taking deep breaths, he focused on the balancing meditation Carl had taught him, visualizing the circular array. Gradually, the flames diminished, and his heart rate slowed. By the time he had fully calmed himself, dawn's first light was filtering through his window.

This was the third night in a row he'd experienced such vivid dreams, each more detailed than the last. But this one had been different—less abstract, more like witnessing an actual event. The black-robed figures, the map, the talk of "vessels" and "Collectors"—it all felt too specific to be mere imagination.

Rising from his bed, Adrian splashed cold water on his face and dressed quickly. He needed to speak with Elarala and Carl immediately.

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The blind seer was already awake when Adrian arrived at her cottage, sitting cross-legged on a woven mat in her garden, surrounded by herbs and flowering plants that seemed to lean toward her like children seeking attention.

"You've had another dream," she said without turning as Adrian approached. Not a question, but a statement of fact.

"Yes," he confirmed, taking a seat on a flat stone across from her. "But this one was... clearer. More like a vision than a dream."

Elarala nodded, her silver hair catching the morning light. "I felt your disturbance in the night. Your magic flared like a beacon."

Adrian winced. "I woke to find every flame in my cottage lit."

"Your control is improving. Last time, you nearly burned the cottage down," she observed dryly, a rare hint of humor in her voice. "Tell me what you saw."

He described the dream in detail—the chamber, the robed figures, their discussion of bearers and vessels, the map with its lines of fire matching the pattern forming in the forest.

Elarala listened without interruption, her blind eyes seeming to look through him rather than at him. When he finished, she remained silent for a long moment, her fingers idly weaving a complex pattern with a sprig of lavender.

"It is as I feared," she finally said. "The Evermark is reaching out to your consciousness, showing you fragments of events connected to its nature."

"You mean these dreams are real? Actually happening somewhere?"

"Not necessarily in the present moment," Elarala clarified. "The mark exists partially outside normal time. What you see could be past, present, potential futures, or symbolic representations of truths your waking mind cannot yet grasp."

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

Adrian's hand went to his chest, feeling the familiar warmth of the mark beneath his shirt. "The robed figures called me a 'vessel.' They said the power was never mine."

"A perspective, not a certainty," Elarala said firmly. "There have always been those who view Evermark bearers as mere containers for elemental spirits. The truth is more complex."

She set aside her lavender and turned her face up to the sun. "What troubles me more is their mention of collectors and a sigil forming in the forest. This aligns with what you and Carl discovered at Forest Star Village."

As if summoned by his name, Carl appeared on the path leading to Elarala's garden, leaning slightly on a walking stick. His expression was grim.

"I've been out since before dawn," he announced without preamble. "The burn pattern in the forest has expanded overnight. It's now a nearly complete circle surrounding the entire valley."

Adrian shared his dream with Carl, whose frown deepened with each detail.

"The Obsidian Circle," Carl muttered when Adrian finished. "I thought they were destroyed decades ago."

"You know them?" Adrian asked, surprised.

Carl nodded, lowering himself carefully onto a bench. "During my time at the Royal Library, I encountered references to them—a secretive order obsessed with elemental magic. They believe the ancient spirits should be 'liberated' from human vessels and reunited into their original forms."

"To what end?" Adrian asked.

"Power," Carl said simply. "The unified elemental forces would be immensely powerful, capable of reshaping reality itself. At least, that's what their texts claimed."

"And these... Collectors?"

"Their operatives, tasked with gathering mark bearers." Carl's expression darkened further. "They were not known for gentle methods."

Elarala rose fluidly to her feet. "Then our course is clear. We must understand what we face, and you," she gestured toward Adrian, "must accelerate your training."

"I'm already progressing faster than—"

"Than is safe, yes," she interrupted. "But necessity outweighs caution now. If the Obsidian Circle has indeed returned and is hunting mark bearers, we have little time."

Carl nodded in agreement. "We should journey to Forest Star Village again—properly this time, not just the outskirts. There's an ancient repository there, a satellite collection of the Royal Library. It may contain more specific information about the Obsidian Circle and their methods."

"You never mentioned this repository before," Adrian noted.

"Its existence is not widely known," Carl explained. "It was established centuries ago as a safeguard against knowledge being centralized and potentially lost. Only the Guardian of the Royal Library and a few trusted scholars know of these satellite locations."

Elarala turned toward her cottage. "I will prepare for the journey. Adrian, you should continue with this morning's training, but focus on defensive techniques and control. If your dreams are being monitored somehow, we must teach you to shield your power's signature."

Adrian nodded, though uncertainty gnawed at him. "These dreams... if they're trying to locate me through them..."

"They already know you're in this valley," Carl reminded him gently. "But knowing a general location and pinpointing an exact position are different matters. The question now is not whether they will come, but when—and how prepared we'll be when they do."

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That afternoon, Adrian trained with new urgency. Under Elarala's guidance, he practiced containing his fire within, drawing it inward rather than projecting it outward—a reversal of everything he'd learned so far.

"The flame that does not show itself cannot be tracked," Elarala instructed, circling him as he struggled to maintain a state of internal combustion without external manifestation. "Feel it burning within you, contained, controlled."

Sweat poured down Adrian's face as he concentrated. His body temperature rose steadily, until he felt he might cook from the inside out. Just when the heat became nearly unbearable, Elarala placed a cool hand on his shoulder.

"Release," she commanded, and Adrian let the pent-up energy flow into a controlled stream that shot skyward like a geyser of flame.

"Better," Elarala approved as the fire dissipated. "You maintained containment for nearly ten minutes. With practice, you can extend this indefinitely."

"It feels unnatural," Adrian admitted, catching his breath. "Like trying to breathe underwater."

"It is unnatural for fire to remain hidden," she agreed. "But sometimes survival requires acting against nature."

They continued practicing until sunset, by which time Adrian could maintain his hidden state for nearly twenty minutes before needing to release the accumulated heat. His control was improving, but the strain left him exhausted.

As dusk fell, he joined Carl and Elarala for a simple meal at the blind seer's cottage. The conversation inevitably turned to their planned journey.

"Forest Star Village is two days' journey on foot," Carl explained, spreading a small map across the table. "We'll need supplies, weapons."

"And a strategy for when we arrive," Elarala added. "If the Obsidian Circle has influence there, as your encounter at the ritual site suggests, we cannot simply walk openly into the village."

Adrian studied the map, noting the route they'd need to take. "What exactly are we hoping to find in this repository?"

"Information," Carl replied. "Specific details about the Obsidian Circle's methods, weaknesses, and goals. Perhaps more importantly, knowledge about the other mark bearers they mentioned in your dream."

"You believe there are others? Right now?" Adrian asked, surprised.

Carl nodded grimly. "If your dream is accurate, they've already captured the water bearer and the earth bearer is dead. The wind bearer remains free, as do you."

"For now," Elarala said quietly.

The implication hung heavy in the air. Adrian broke the uncomfortable silence by asking, "How will we access this repository? Won't it be protected?"

"It will," Carl confirmed. "But as former Guardian of the Royal Library, I know the protective wards and access protocols. Getting inside shouldn't be the difficult part."

"Getting out might be," Elarala observed dryly.

They continued planning late into the night, discussing routes, contingencies, and what supplies they would need. When Adrian finally returned to his cottage, his mind was racing despite his physical exhaustion.

Preparing for bed, he hesitated before extinguishing his candle. What new visions would tonight's dreams bring? More importantly, would those visions expose him further to the watchers?

Drawing a deep breath, Adrian settled onto his bed and began the balancing meditation Carl had taught him. As he did, he focused on containing his fire as Elarala had instructed, imagining it as a small, controlled ember deep within his core—present but not detectable from outside.

Sleep claimed him eventually, and with it came dreams—but not the vivid visions of the black-robed circle. Instead, he dreamed of Kolville, of faces now gone, of Lina's smile and the village elder's wise eyes. These memories, his anchors to humanity, seemed to form a protective barrier around his consciousness.

Just before dawn, however, his peaceful dreams shattered. A single image pierced through—a hooded figure standing at the edge of Elarala's valley, staff in hand, looking directly toward Adrian's cottage. The figure raised its staff, revealing a cage containing a brilliant blue flame.

"Found you, fire bearer," came a whispered voice, as if carried on the wind itself.

Adrian awoke with a start, the mark on his chest burning hot against his skin. Outside, he heard the unmistakable sound of Carl's warning horn echoing across the valley.

They had run out of time. The Collectors had arrived.

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To be continued in Chapter 18: Preparations for Departure