EMBER

I do not yet breathe.

Not with lungs.

But I am awake.

Floating in warmth. Wrapped in blood and light. Guarded by a heartbeat stronger than storms.

She calls me child.

Others call me prophecy.

But I do not yet know my name.

I feel her dreams.

The healer. The flame. My mother.

When she cries, I pulse brighter. When she bleeds, I grow stronger. She speaks to me without words — a song of defiance stitched into every cell.

She thinks I don’t understand.

But I do.

There are two voices in the world beyond her womb.

One is light. Solid. Steady. His presence wraps around her when...