"My lady, we are here." 

A soft tap on her arm woke Laren from her doze. Yawning and stretching, she opened her eyes. Her escort had opened the carriage door and now stood outside, a hand stretched out to help her down. 

Taking his hand and stepping out, Laren looked around. 

They were now so deep in the woods that the only sunlight that came through was filtered into a musty orange light. The road had ended abruptly, and only the dim outlines of trees and bushes could be seen ahead. A light, warm breeze rustled past. 

The snake on her arm uncoiled itself slightly, head swiveling in interest. 

Laren turned back to her escort, confused as the carriage turned around and clopped away. 

"Where's the school?" she asked, looking all around. The hooded man simply gave a small smile, his dark skin seeming to glow in the faint orange light. 

"From here we proceed on foot my lady. Don't worry; we're not far." 

He turned and walked into the twilight forest. Laren hesitated. 

Was she really ready to do this? If what this man said was true, she might be leaving her past, family, and the only life she had ever known behind her. 

The snake on her arm, which she had decided to name Lash, squeezed her arm reassuringly. 

Taking a deep breath, Laren stepped off the path and followed her mysterious guide still deeper into the trees.

The man walked with a light, easy grace, picking his way sure-footedly over the rocky ground. Laren tried to copy him the best she could, but stumbled more than once. Soft rustlings and clicks permeated the warm silence. Once Laren thought she saw a small flash of light through a gap in the trees, but it was gone too quickly to tell.

Just as she started to wonder how close they were, her escort stopped beside a large oak tree with gnarled roots. He pressed one elegant hand to the trunk, muttering softly. 

A faint, orange-gold light bloomed from his fingers, spiraling over the bark in a fantastic spiked pattern. The tree gave a shudder that shivered all of its leaves, then a hole opened in the roots. 

"Are you a pyromancer?" Laren asked, astounded. The orange robed man shook his head and replied, "No. I am a servant of the fire, but not one who can wield its strength. That was simply a barrier to let only those who serve the flame enter in. Come now."

He then swung neatly down into the gap. Laren put her legs in and slid ungracefully into the hole. As soon as she was in, the roots reformed, closing over their heads in a thick net of wood and soil. 

For a moment there was dark, earthen silence. And then, all along the walls, fire burst to life. Torches in brackets lit by themselves, burning with a bright, warm glow. 

Lash raised his head and gave a small shudder of pleasure. Laren also felt a strange rush of energy as the heat hit her. 

They headed down the tunnel guided by the torches. The ground underfoot was earthen at first, but as they got further in it transformed into polished, black obsidian. 

The tunnel wove around in a complex series of twists and branches. But her guide never faltered in finding his way. 

Finally the tunnel sloped steeply up and notches appeared in the floor, like steps. The clambored up them and into a dark enclosed room. There was a soft rustle of fabric, then a click. A small chink of light appeared in the darkness followed by a voice. 

"Identify yourself and speak true."

"I am Krelmar, servant of the flame and tender of the embers. With me is Laren Flameblessed, child of fire and companion of the Searing Serpent."

Laren looked at man, Krelmar, and saw that he had taken down his hood for the first time. Dark brown skin, a shaved head, defined jawline. He turned to face her after announcing them and she had to stifle a gasp. 

His eyes were bright, piercing yellow, like a wolf or bird of prey. He gave a mysterious smile as the voice responded,

"Identification accepted. Enter friends of flame and may your steps ever burn bright."

The chink of light disappeared for a moment, then a door opened.