Burnscar Firecrest's Arc

Chapter 4 of 4

Burnscar stood at the forest edge where pine trees met scorched earth, her flames casting orange light across bark scarred with old carvings. She traced a symbol with one claw—three circles interlinked, the mark of binding from before the slaughter. The treaty had been real. Humans couldn't deny what was carved into living wood. She memorized each line, each curve, burning the pattern into her mind the way she'd burned the merchant's ledger building to ash. This was evidence, proof that blood oaths existed before greed turned neighbors into hunters. Her hooves scraped against exposed roots as she moved deeper into the trees, searching for more sacred bark. The work was slow, methodical, but revenge demanded patience. Each carving she found was another piece of truth the humans couldn't erase. A crooked arrow caught her eye, jutting from the ground at an odd angle. The wood was purple, bright against the dark soil. Burnscar approached it, suspicious. The color meant something—purple for mourning, like the candle she'd burned. She circled it once, then twice, studying the grain. The arrow pointed deeper into the forest, away from human settlements. Someone had placed it here, marking a path. Her flames flickered violet as she followed its direction, finding another arrow twenty paces ahead. Then another. Each one pointed to places where trees bore the oldest carvings, where the bark showed treaties and blood oaths from before the whale-song ended. This was a map left by someone who remembered. Burnscar memorized the trail, adding it to her collection of evidence. The humans had tried to erase the past, but the spirits had marked it in purple wood. Now she knew exactly where to search next, and revenge felt closer with every step.