The mountain did not forgive quickly.

  Afi learned that on the first morning after she decided she was ready to move. She woke before the sun reached the ridge line, the cave still cold at its mouth, warmth lingering only deeper within where the stone remembered old fire. The cub slept pressed against her side, its small body rising and falling with quick, even breaths.

  Afi lay still for a while, listening.

  There was no sound of men. No clink of steel. No careless footsteps. Only wind, distant and constant, moving through narrow passages and over broken rock. Only the slow crack of cooling stone as night’s chill retreated.

  Only the soft rasp of the cub’s tongue as it licked its paw in its sleep.

  She closed her eyes and reached inward.

  Inner Energy moved through her body like a current in deep water. Not rushing. Not stagnant. It flowed along familiar routes, through limbs and torso, through lungs and heart, settling into bones as if it belonged there.

  When she willed it to gather, it gathered.

  When she willed it to spread, it spread.

  The flame was different.

  It did not flow.

  It waited.

  It rested deeper than Inner Energy, anchored to blood and heartbeat, threaded through her chest in a compact heat that felt older than her own life. When she brushed against it with her awareness, it responded, but not like a servant.

  More like an animal that recognized its handler.

  Afi opened her eyes.

  She did not like the feeling of being recognized by something inside her.

  It made her aware of how small she still was.

  She rose quietly and stepped outside. The air was dry and cool, tinged with salt from the distant sea. Above, the sky was pale, lightening slowly, the stars fading one by one.

  The mountain range stretched out ahead, jagged and dark, ridges layered upon ridges like sleeping beasts.

  Afi walked to the edge of the clearing and began to train.

  She started with breath.

  One inhale.

  Slow.

  Filling.

  One exhale.

  Controlled.

  Again.

  Again.

  Her stance settled naturally. Feet planted shoulder width apart. Knees loose. Hips aligned. Shoulders relaxed. Hands open.

  She moved through the simplest forms her tribe taught its young, the base patterns that every Novana child repeated until their muscles memorized them.

  A step.

  A turn.

  A strike.

  A retreat.

  A pivot.

  A low sweep.

  A forward drive.

  At first she used no Inner Energy.

  Her body alone.

  She listened to the sound of her movement. The soft scrape of her feet against stone. The faint whistle of her fist cutting the air.

  The way her weight shifted cleanly from heel to toe.

  The way her balance held even when she moved fast.

  Then she added Inner Energy slowly, carefully, letting it reinforce her muscles without rushing, without forcing.

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  The air crackled faintly with pressure when her strikes landed.

  Dust rose from the ground in thin rings.

  Afi stopped.

  She held her fist out in front of her and stared at it.

  There was still blood under her nails from the fight. She had washed her hands repeatedly, scrubbed until her knuckles reddened, but she could not remove what had already settled inside her memory.

  Killing did not fade after a night of sleep.

  She turned her hand over, palm up, and breathed once.

  She did not call flame.

  She simply allowed the warmth in her chest to rise a fraction, just enough for her skin to heat.

  A faint glow spread through her palm.

  Red.

  Edged with the slightest gold.

  It looked ordinary at first. A normal fire, the kind any talented Novana might awaken at the proper age. If someone saw it from a distance, they might not even notice the gold.

  But Afi felt the difference.

  The flame did not waver with wind.

  It did not flicker with emotion.

  It did not dance.

  It rested steady and complete, like a blade held motionless.

  She closed her fingers.

  The flame vanished.

  Afi exhaled slowly, then stepped back into her forms, more focused now, more precise. She practiced controlling the boundary between Inner Energy and flame, learning where one ended and the other began, learning how little she could reveal while still remaining ready.

  The cub woke as the sun cleared the ridge.

  It stumbled out of the cave with a yawn, stretching its legs, shaking its head as if annoyed at being pulled from sleep.

  Its coat looked darker in the morning light, deep red like coals banked beneath ash.

  The black spots along its side glimmered faintly, silver threaded through them in thin arcs that caught the sun and vanished again.

  It watched Afi train, eyes following every movement.

  When she stepped forward, it stepped forward.

  When she retreated, it circled behind her.

  It moved clumsily, paws slipping on loose stone, but its instinct was sharp. Even half awake, it knew where to stand to avoid her strikes. Even without being taught, it recognized rhythm.

  Afi paused.

  The cub sat in front of her, ears flicking, tail swaying once.

  She crouched and held out her hand.

  The cub sniffed her fingers, then pressed its head against her palm and rubbed, marking her with scent.

  Afi’s throat tightened unexpectedly.

  She did not push it away.

  “You’re hungry,” she said quietly.

  The cub made a low sound in its throat, not quite a growl, not quite a purr.

  Afi stood and looked toward the higher ridges.

  Hunting would be simple.

  Too simple, perhaps.

  She had hunted beasts since she was young, but now her strength made ordinary prey feel fragile. She would have to choose carefully. If she killed too violently, the mountain would carry the scent of blood for days and draw unwanted attention.

  Still, the cub needed to eat.

  Afi moved across the slope, stepping from rock to rock without dislodging pebbles. The cub followed, surprisingly quiet when it focused, its paws placing themselves with care once it realized noise mattered.

  They tracked for an hour before Afi found their prey.

  A mountain boar.

  Thick hide scarred from old fights.

  Tusks curved and sharp.

  It rooted in the dirt near a patch of stunted trees, unaware of the danger closing in.

  Afi watched it for a long time.

  She could have killed it with a single strike.

  That thought made her uneasy.

  Power that made life easy also made mistakes easy.

  She motioned to the cub and crouched low.

  “Watch,” she whispered.

  The cub lowered itself, eyes fixed on the boar.

  Afi circled wide, using the wind, moving until she stood downwind, then closed the distance in a straight line.

  The boar sensed her too late.

  It charged with a scream, tusks aimed at her legs.

  Afi stepped aside at the last moment, pivoting smoothly. She struck the boar’s shoulder with the heel of her palm. Inner Energy snapped through her arm into the blow, just enough to stagger it, not enough to break it.

  The boar stumbled.

  Afi moved again, a quick strike to the ribs, then a low sweep to disrupt its footing.

  The boar crashed to the ground, legs flailing.

  Afi did not finish it immediately.

  She waited, letting it exhaust itself, forcing herself to be patient. When its movement slowed, she stepped forward and placed her palm against its skull.

  A thin pulse of Inner Energy.

  The boar went still.

  Clean.

  She looked back at the cub.

  The cub stared at the fallen prey, then at Afi, then trotted forward without hesitation. It began to feed, small jaws tearing awkwardly at first, then more efficiently as hunger overcame clumsiness.

  Afi sat on a rock nearby and watched.

  Her mind drifted to the Novana settlement.

  To Taneka.

  Her grandfather would be in the inner grounds by now, overseeing training, watching the younger generation sharpen themselves for the selection matches that would decide who represented Big Flame Island.

  Afi had not been there.

  Three months.

  To her, it felt longer in some ways and shorter in others. The corridor had stripped time of meaning. The chamber had compressed it into pressure. Now the outside world carried on, blind to what had happened beneath their feet.

  Blind.

  But not forever.

  Afi’s gaze shifted upward to the ridge line.

  For a moment she thought she saw movement.

  Not a beast.

  Not a bird.

  A presence.

  Just beyond sight.

  Her body tensed.

  She stood slowly, eyes scanning the rocks. The feeling was faint, but real, like heat lingering after flame, like the aftertaste of smoke.

  Someone had passed through this area recently.

  Someone strong.

  Afi did not chase.

  She did not call out.

  She simply watched until the feeling faded.

  Then she looked down at the cub again.

  The cub had finished feeding and now sat licking its paws, eyes half closed in contentment. When Afi crouched, it stood and bumped its head against her knee.

  As if reminding her of what mattered.

  Afi exhaled and placed her hand on its head.

  “We’re leaving soon,” she said.

  The cub’s ears flicked.

  Afi looked out over the mountain range, toward the distant lowlands where smoke from the settlement would rise in thin lines when the morning fires were lit.

  She imagined the faces she would see again.

  Pogisa’s mischievous eyes.

  The elders who would measure her with silent judgment.

  The younger warriors who would scoff at her age.

  And her grandfather, Taneka, who would not scoff.

  He would watch.

  He would know.

  Afi stood and adjusted the pack she had gathered from the poachers’ camp.

  “Not today,” she whispered to herself.

  But soon.

  With the cub at her side and the flame sleeping in her blood, Afi began to walk along the ridgeline, not toward home yet, but toward the path that would lead there when she was ready.

  The mountain wind followed behind her, carrying her scent, carrying the faintest trace of gold edged fire into the sky.