Chapter 9: Embers of Unity
The return to EchoWomb was not a march.
It was a procession of ash, bone, and silence.
Three thousand two hundred Morrowseed survivors moved beneath the trench canopy, guarded by war-cloaked kin who, only days before, would never have marched beside them. Now they did.
The wounded walked beside Talons.
The grieving leaned against Ashguard plate.
The children followed behind Whisper-Vow's veil.
The Codex pulsed not in judgment, but in rhythm. It echoed low, like a heartbeat trying to remember joy.
At the Pyre, the remaining banners stood still.
One was reattached.
Green. Morrowseed.
Kael stood before the Pyre, flame low.
Serrin beside him, Codex shard still humming with residual data.
"They carried the dead with them," she said.
"They always do," Kael replied. "So do we."
Behind them, the leaders assembled.
VyrmClaw. Maelith. Ironwrought. Whisper-Vow. Thyrn. Threnyx. Crate. Talym. Ironmark. Kestri. Dreadmaw. All present.
Raazhk stood with Salak'ra, observing the way the warhosts kept formation even as no orders were given.
"They're not just converging," Raazhk said. "They're becoming."
Kael turned.
"Let them. It's not my fire anymore. It's theirs."
Campfire Lines
For the first time since the Black Pyre lit, the warhost rested.
No Codex pulses. No duels. No orders.
Just firelight. Just stories.
Korynth and Zhaer traded tactics.
Rythis and Krask sparred with dulled edges.
Shai-Varn shared trench-rumor with Ardyn.
Even Vhorr Krael and Gorund Voxskarn laughed over a shattered Warden tooth.
Vexle served boiled fungus and protein gel.
Grix told a joke about a Codex shrine exploding mid-prayer.
It almost made Salak'ra smile.
Serrin caught Kael watching them.
"You said they weren't ready for each other."
"They aren't," Kael answered.
He looked at the flame.
"But now they want to be."
Next: Chapter 10 - The Second Flame