Episode 14
The Vault trembled. The starlight above blinked out as the rift widened, tearing open reality like fragile parchment. From its heart slithered a creature of pure darkness—the Voidspawn. It had no fixed form—its edges blurred and bled into the air around it, wings of ash and eyes like frozen night.
Kael stood frozen, Ashmourne glowing faintly in his grip. Even the cursed sword seemed unsure.
"What… is that?" Lira whispered, stepping back, her daggers trembling in her hands.
Taron rose shakily, blood dripping from a wound on his side. "That is what the Firstborn tried to seal away."
"And what your Order has been feeding with lies," Kael added grimly.
The Voidspawn let out a screech—not of sound, but memory. Visions slammed into Kael's mind.
Flameborn warriors falling in ancient wars. Cities swallowed by darkness. A woman with silver eyes screaming as her hands shattered into dust.
Kael staggered. "It's inside our minds."
"Shield yourselves!" Lira shouted, drawing a rune in the air. A ward flickered around them, cutting off the echoes.
But the Voidspawn moved—fast. Too fast.
A tendril lashed toward Kael.
He ducked, slashing with Ashmourne. The sword met the shadow—and cut it. The creature hissed.
"Your blade," Taron breathed. "It can hurt it."
Kael didn't reply. He didn't have time to be surprised.
He attacked again—this time aiming for the rift itself.
---
The Vault Collapses
The Vault couldn't withstand the presence of the Riftborn.
Cracks snaked across the ceiling. Starshards shattered, raining glass-light across the floor.
"The structure's giving way!" Lira cried. "We need to leave—now!"
"No," Kael growled. "We can't let it follow us."
He turned to Taron. "Help me close the rift."
"You don't trust me," Taron said.
"I trust that you love this realm more than the Order's lies."
Taron hesitated, then nodded.
They knelt together, Kael drawing a burning sigil with Ashmourne while Taron chanted in the old tongue. Their flames merged—blue and crimson—sealing the edges of the rift.
The Voidspawn shrieked, now fully in this world, clawing toward them.
Kael roared and plunged Ashmourne deep into the heart of the sigil.
A burst of flame exploded outward, swallowing the creature whole.
Then—
Silence.
The rift shrank.
Then collapsed.
But the Vault groaned one final time.
And the floor gave out beneath them.
---
The Hidden Path
Kael awoke in pitch blackness.
Stone. Cold. Dust in his mouth.
He coughed, sitting up. "Lira? Taron?"
"I'm here," Lira groaned beside him. "Arm's twisted but not broken."
Taron coughed a few feet away. "I'm alive… barely."
They lit a small flame. The room they had fallen into was ancient—far older than the Vault above.
Kael ran his hand along the wall. Symbols. Runes. None like the Flameborn used.
"These aren't Eltherian," he murmured. "This is pre-Arcane."
Lira found something in the dust—a scroll tube, sealed with crystal.
Inside, a map.
She unrolled it slowly.
"A city," she whispered. "Surrounded by flame, hidden by the stars. Ashrial."
Kael looked at her.
Ashrial. The lost city of the Firstborn.
Taron stared. "It's real?"
Kael stood slowly, flames dancing in his palm.
"It's real. And we're going to find it."
---
The Awakening Flame
Later that night, as the others rested, Kael sat alone with Ashmourne.
He placed the blade on the ground and reached out—not with magic, but with memory.
"Why me?" he whispered. "Why this path?"
Ashmourne pulsed once.
A vision came—different from the Voidspawn's. A woman. Clad in silver and flame. Her face hidden. Her voice warm.
"When the Ember fails, the Hollow Flame will rise. Through pain. Through betrayal. Through loss."
Kael opened his eyes.
From his palm, a second flame ignited—not crimson, not blue.
But white.
He felt it: a fire not of destruction… but truth.
Ashmourne shimmered in response.
Kael clenched his fist.
"We're not just fighting monsters," he whispered. "We're fighting the people who protect them."
---
A Hunter in the Dark
But far above, back in Ember Bastion, someone watched the ruins of the Vault collapse from a high tower.
A woman with ink-black hair and eyes like molten silver.
A mark glowed on her forehead—the sigil of the Shadow Circle.
"He's awakened," she said calmly.
A man behind her—hooded, faceless—spoke in a low rasp. "Then the time has come."
She smiled.
"Begin the culling. The First Flame must not rise again."
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