The battle had ended, but its resonance still trembled in Ashen's bones. Smoke curled from the broken stones of the highland keep, where the Seared One's twisted aura had finally been snuffed out. Yet, the wind carried no sense of triumph—only the iron scent of blood and something older, darker, more patient.
Ashen stood along the crumbled edge of the eastern tower, his coat fluttering in the cold air. Below, the survivors of the battle moved like ghosts—soldiers bandaging wounds, beast tamers tending to scorched familiars, and healers murmuring incantations over the near-dead.
Behind him, footsteps approached. He didn't turn.
"You're bleeding," Lyra said. Her voice was hoarse, and she was wrapped in heavy layers, her injured arm supported by a sling enchanted with glowing runes.
Ashen chuckled softly. "Am I? I hadn't noticed." The words were dry, but she could hear the fatigue in them.
She came to stand beside him, gaze drifting toward the northern horizon, where dark clouds loomed. "That thing… it wasn't just a corrupted Seared One. Something else was using it."
Ashen's jaw tightened. "I saw it. Felt it."
"Ashen," she said, glancing up at him. "What was that presence inside the Seared One?"
He closed his eyes. "A throne in the void. A voice that speaks through fire and fear. I don't know its name, but it knew mine."
They fell into silence, the kind that came not from discomfort, but from shared weight. Below them, Selene paced the stone corridors of the keep, scrolls clutched in her arms.
"She found something," Lyra murmured, nodding toward the scholar.
Ashen turned and followed her down the fractured staircase. Selene met them halfway in the central hall, her eyes shining with a mix of fear and exhilaration.
"The scrolls from the vault. The ones hidden beneath the altar." She laid them across the war table. "They talk about the Dominion Pact."
Ashen frowned. "I thought that was myth."
"Most thought the Seared Ones were myths too," Selene snapped, then softened. "But the pact is real. It was made in the first age—between the primordial beasts and an entity called The Sovereign Beyond Flame. A being of pure entropy. The pact was meant to bind the elemental forces… and the price was blood."
Lyra stiffened. "You're saying the Seared Ones weren't just corrupted mortals. They were offerings."
Selene nodded grimly. "And now someone—or something—is trying to reform the pact. But this time… to rule the beasts, not bind them."
Ashen looked down at his hand, where the burn from Emberfang's first touch still remained. The flame that had once merely licked at his soul now roared louder.
"We need to move. Before they gather more shrines."
Selene hesitated, then placed another scroll in front of them. A map, charred at the edges, showing five sigils—each representing a Beast Shrine. One was circled in black.
"The next one's already under siege," she said. "It's deep in the Hollow Scar. The Maw of Echoes."
Ashen's voice dropped. "That's where the Dominion was first made."
"Ashen," Lyra said quietly, "if this Sovereign awakens—"
"We won't let it." His aura flared, and for a moment, the very torches in the hall leaned toward him, embers dancing with reverence.
Lyra's eyes locked onto his. "Then I'm with you. Until the flame fades."
He didn't say anything—just nodded, fierce and silent.
That night, they camped on the outskirts of the shattered keep. Stars burned above them, but the wind carried with it the low thrum of ancient forces shifting.
Ashen sat alone, gazing into the fire. His thoughts were not just on the battles to come, but on the things he'd seen when locked within the mind of the Seared One—the Sovereign's voice, the pulsing black throne surrounded by chains of ash, and worst of all… a familiar face standing at its side.
Kael.
Not corrupted. Not controlled.
Willing.
Ashen's fists clenched. "You really chose this path, didn't you…"
From the shadows behind him, Lyra approached with a flask of warm leafbrew. She sat beside him and passed it without a word. For a while, they didn't speak.
Then, softly, she asked, "Do you think we'll survive this?"
Ashen stared into the flames, his voice low. "Survival stopped being the goal the moment I touched Emberfang's soul. Now? We endure. And we fight."
"And Kael?"
Ashen's eyes narrowed, fire flickering behind them. "He'll answer for what he's done. But not yet. Not until I know why he stood beside the Sovereign."
A breeze rustled the trees, and with it came the distant sound of howling—low, echoing, unnatural.
Lyra stood, hand going to her blade. "Trouble?"
Ashen rose beside her, his aura slowly igniting in rings of gold and crimson. "Not yet. But it's coming."
They stared into the dark woods where the howls had come from.
"Let it come," Ashen said. "We'll burn through anything it sends."