Episode 13
The cold wind of the Hollow Vale gave way to the searing heat of Ember Bastion as Kael, cloaked in shadows, stepped once more into the land that had cast him out. Beside him, Lira moved with silent precision, her eyes scanning every corridor, every guard post, every rune-warded corner of the Flameborn stronghold.
He hadn't been here since his exile.
Everything was as he remembered—yet it all felt colder, like a house haunted by memories long dead.
"How are we getting in?" Lira whispered.
Kael smirked and held up a small obsidian coin. "This gets us through the outer ward."
"A Flameborn seal," she said, impressed. "Where did you get it?"
"Elira's parting gift."
They approached the first gate—an enormous slab of glowing crimson stone, guarded by two soldiers in full ceremonial flameplate.
Kael threw the coin toward them. It burst mid-air in a quiet shimmer of black fire. The guards froze for half a breath… and then turned, walking away as if under a spell.
Lira blinked. "Memory magic?"
"No," Kael murmured. "Something older."
---
The Inner Bastion
Inside the bastion, the halls echoed with silence. Gone were the chants, the rituals, the constant hum of arcane energy Kael remembered. The heart of the Flameborn was hollowing.
They passed murals defaced with scorch marks. Tapestries torn. Statues of ancient heroes—his supposed ancestors—cracked at the base.
"This place is dying," Lira whispered.
"Or being rewritten," Kael replied grimly. "They're hiding something big."
As they moved deeper, footsteps echoed behind them.
Kael pushed Lira into the shadows of a pillar.
A young man, about Kael's age, strode past. Flameborn robes—but not an ordinary acolyte. His aura shimmered with inner fire.
Kael's breath caught.
Taron.
His brother.
Once Kael's fiercest defender. Now a stranger.
Kael reached out before he could stop himself.
But Lira gripped his wrist. "Don't."
He watched as Taron turned a corner and vanished.
"He's different," Kael murmured. "Something's changed."
"Everyone changes," Lira said. "But we don't have time to mourn them."
Kael nodded. "Let's find the Vault."
---
The Vault of Echoes
The hidden stairwell lay beneath the Temple of Flame—a structure that once housed the inner Circle. Now, it stood deserted.
A single torch flickered at the entrance, held in the mouth of a serpent statue. Kael approached it cautiously.
"Fire answers fire," he whispered, raising his hand.
The torch ignited with black-blue flame.
The statue groaned, stone shifting, and a hidden stair spiraled downward.
Lira looked uneasy. "This doesn't feel like the Flameborn built it."
"They didn't," Kael replied. "The Firstborn did."
As they descended, they heard whispers—at first faint, like wind. Then louder. Words in no language Kael knew, but still... understood.
"You return," they hissed. "Echo of truth. Breaker of silence."
Lira shivered. "Who's whispering?"
"I think... the Vault remembers me."
At the base of the stair was a door made of obsidian glass, carved with runes that pulsed softly.
Kael stepped forward—and the door opened on its own.
---
Inside the Vault
They stepped into a chamber filled with lightless stars. Not torches, not lanterns—just floating fragments of memory. Each one flickering like a dying ember.
In the center stood a pedestal. Upon it, a book.
Kael approached, heart pounding.
The book opened itself.
He read.
"The Flameborn lied."
"The Firstborn did not begin the war. He ended it."
"The Void was never the enemy—it was the prison."
Kael staggered back.
"They twisted it all…"
He turned to Lira. "The Flameborn weren't protecting Eltherion from the Void. They were guarding its prison. Because they were the ones who made it."
"And the Firstborn tried to set it free."
Suddenly, the whispers stopped.
Kael drew Ashmourne.
Silence pressed in.
Then the shadows moved.
---
The Flameborn Arrive
Taron stepped into the chamber, flanked by six armored figures—Flameborn Sentinels.
"You should not have come back, brother."
Kael raised his sword. "And you should've asked why I was exiled in the first place."
Taron's expression twisted. "You carry the shard. You saw the truth. That makes you dangerous."
"It makes me necessary."
Taron lifted a glowing orb—the Flameborn Sigil.
"Then come prove it."
---
Clash of Flames
Kael leapt first, Ashmourne striking the air and leaving a trail of black fire. Taron blocked with his own blade—bright crimson, forged in the sacred fires of the Ember Forge.
Their swords clashed—truth against dogma.
Around them, Sentinels closed in—but Lira met them head-on, daggers singing, moving like water through flame.
Kael felt something shift inside him—a second heartbeat, deeper. The flame in his chest blazed brighter.
He unleashed it.
Ashmourne screamed.
The chamber exploded in light—half flame, half shadow.
The Sentinels staggered back. Taron dropped his sigil.
Kael stood over him, panting.
"I don't want to fight you."
Taron looked up, eyes confused. "You're not the same, Kael."
"No," Kael whispered. "I'm not."
---
The Warning
From the shadows, a whisper echoed—not from Kael, not from the Vault.
From the walls.
"Too late… too late… it comes…"
The starlight above them faded.
A rift opened.
From it, a creature crawled—eyes like ink, wings of smoke.
Lira stepped back. "What is that?"
Kael didn't blink.
"The Void has awakened."
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