Chapter 1: The Spark

The forest smelled of burnt sugar and rot.

Jade Violet Alexander tugged her hood lower, her boots crunching over brittle leaves and charred bones. The Ashenwood was forbidden, but that’s why she’d come. Her father’s warnings rang in her ears: “Only fools and corpses wander there.” She was no fool, and she refused to be a corpse. Not yet.

“You shouldn’t be here, Princess.”

The voice was raw, like gravel dragged over stone. Jade froze. Ahead, a boy slumped against a blackened oak, his wrists shackled to its trunk. Ash dusted his hair like premature grey, and his eyes—storm-cloud grey, sharp as shrapnel—locked onto hers.

“You’re alive,” she breathed, stepping closer.

“Disappointed?” He smirked, rattling his chains. “Your father’s men left me here to die. Guess they forgot to check if I’d finished rotting.”

Jade crouched, studying the shackles. The royal crest—a lion devouring a rose—glinted on the rusted metal. Her father’s work. “What did you do to deserve this?”

“Existing.” His smirk faded. "I’m Edward. Edward Galloway.”

The name struck her like a slap. *Galloway*. Traitors. Liars. The family that nearly burned Agmeygv to the ground. She recoiled, but Edward laughed bitterly.

“There it is. The Alexander flinch.” He yanked his chains, blood welling at his wrists. “Run home, Princess. Tell your father you saw the monster.”

Jade hesitated. His voice was venom, but his hands… they trembled. She reached for the lock.

“Don’t.” Edward’s voice cracked. “You don’t know what I am.”

“You’re a person,” she said, “and I’m not my father.”

The lock clicked. Edward slumped forward, gasping. Instinctively, Jade caught him, her hands brushing his.

The world erupted.

Vines burst from her palms, glowing jade-green as they knit his wounds. But the oak behind them groaned, its bark splitting like screams. Leaves withered and fell, and the air reeked of sulfur.

“Stop!” Edward tore away, but the damage was done.

Fire.

It spread hungrily, devouring the brittle underbrush. Smoke clawed at Jade’s throat as she stumbled back. “We have to run!”

Edward stood frozen, ash swirling around him like a shroud. “This is what I am,” he said softly. “This is always what I am.”

“Move!” Jade grabbed his arm, dragging him as flames licked at their heels. They crashed through the treeline, collapsing in a field as the inferno roared behind them.

Below the hill, villagers spilt from their huts, screaming. A child wailed as fire swallowed her home. Jade lurched forward, but Edward yanked her back.

“You can’t save them.”

“I have to try!” She tore free, sprinting into the smoke.

She found the girl first—small, soot-streaked, clutching a singed doll. Jade scooped her up, magic surging. Vines erupted, smothering the flames, but the roots turned black and brittle. The roof collapsed.

A man tackled her, his face twisted with rage. “Witch!” He snatched the girl. “You and your demon cursed us!”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Burn with him!”

Stones rained down. Edward dragged her away, his grip iron. She didn’t fight.

---

That night, in the palace crypts, Jade scrubbed ash from her nails. Edward leaned against a coffin, his scars silver in the torchlight.

“They hate me” she whispered.

“Hate is what rulers earn.” He tossed her a rusted key—the one she’d dropped in the Ashenwood. “Love is what they steal.”

“Why did your father do it?” she asked. “Why betray Agmeygv?”

Edward’s eyes darkened. “For the same reason you freed me. Stupidity. Hope.” He stood, fading into the shadows. “Sleep well, Princess. Tomorrow, you become a rebel."

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