Chapter 17 : The Raging Flame
Ashvale never stayed quiet for long.
Even on peaceful nights, the wind would whistle through the shutters with the voice of an old man complaining about his back, and the tavern two streets down refused to close before midnight. Elias had long grown used to the village's peculiar ambiance: a little too loud, a little too lively, and always just one stray chicken away from disaster.
He was finally drifting to sleep that evening, the bed creaking under his weight and the soft warmth of Rhea's magical presence nearby soothing his nerves, when the first bell rang.
Not a church bell.
The fire bell.
The sound was sharp, panicked. It rang once—twice—then a third time in quick succession.
He bolted upright.
"Fire?" he mumbled, swinging his legs off the bed.
Across the room, Rhea sat up as well, rubbing her eyes. "Loud..."
"Stay here, okay?" he said, hurriedly pulling on boots. "It might be nothing."
But the orange glow spreading outside their window said otherwise.