Page 343 of Elemental Becoming

Kieran doesn’t miss a beat. “No. We just prefer to win before we start sweating.”

Jarek laughs, clapping Kieran on the shoulder. “Careful, Garrick. He might cut you down before you see it coming.”

Their banter continues, easy and familiar. I hide a smile behind my cup, letting the sound of it settle around me.

Having never seen a blade like this, my attention returns to it. It glints in the morning light, catching something just beneath the curve of the hilt. An engraving.

I lean in, frowning, to get a better look.

A swirling gust of wind encircles an open book, a quill suspended in midair. Beneath it, almost hidden within the design, I catch something else.

A flicker of flame, subtle and nearly concealed within the swirling etches of wind.

Kieran’s family crest, most likely.

But a strange sense of familiarity washes over me.

The flame. The shape of it. The way it’s folded into the design, not as decoration, but as something meant to be overlooked.

I’ve seen it before. I brush my fingers over the engraving, my pulse quickening.

Where?

A thread of unease winds through me. Thane feels it immediately and his eyes cut to me.

“What is it?”His voice slips through the bond, quiet but firm.

I glance at him, then back at the blade resting on the table.“This crest. It’s familiar. I’ve seen it before.”

His gaze drops to the engraving, his expression unreadable, but I feel his attention sharpen through the bond.

“Yes,”he says, certainty threading through his mind-voice.“That’s Kieran’s family crest. He comes from one of the oldest families in the realm.”

Curiosity brushes through our connection.

“Why?”

I stare at the blade. The swirling gust of wind encircling theopen book. The poised quill. And there, nearly hidden within the design, a flicker of flame.

A shiver curls through me. Recognition presses at the edges of my thoughts. Thane doesn’t press, but I feel him holding space, waiting.

I close my eyes and search the recesses of my mind. A shadow lingers at the edge of my thoughts. A book. A flame. A shape I shouldn’t recognize, and yet somehow do.

The memory doesn’t arrive all at once. It comes in fragments, each piece tugging at the next. A whisper of knowing. The sense that I’m standing on the edge of something important.

I exhale, my pulse quickening. Thane remains beside me, unwavering. His presence through the bond is quiet and patient, the question still lingering between us.

I close my eyes and search the recesses of my mind. At first, there’s nothing.

Then the scent of strong tea drifts through my memory, earthy and familiar. The soft rasp of parchment turning. Page after page. A man muttering under his breath as he worked.

Valen.

The image sharpens. Stacks of notes spread across his desk. Family names. Dates. Crests sketched in hurried ink along the margins.

My fingers hover over the hilt again, the metal cool beneath my skin. The sensation lands before the thought does. Like smoke clearing, the memory finally comes into focus.

The flame woven into the crest.