The next morning came swift and bright, the kind of light that burned away uncertainty. Kael rose before the sun, already dressed in his armor—flameforged and laced with gold veins that pulsed with warmth. Today, they would move.
The Phoenix Rebellion was no longer a whisper. It was a roar waiting to rise.
Outside the Southern Hollow, hundreds of rebels gathered in loose formations. Makeshift banners flapped in the wind, each one bearing the sigil of the rising phoenix. Elara stood near the front, issuing orders with clipped efficiency, her voice sharper than her blades.
"Archers to the dunes. Mages, hold center. Don't group too tight—we're fast, not foolish."
Kael approached her, his eyes scanning the growing army. "You've done this before."
Elara smirked. "I was a commander once. Before the Sovereign burned my post and labeled me a traitor."
"You never told me."
She shrugged. "Didn't seem important. Until now."
Kael gave her a long look. "Everything about us is important now."
At that moment, Lysaria approached, robes fluttering in the dry wind, her staff glowing with faint runes.
"The scouts returned," she said. "The Sovereign's knights have fortified Emberpass. It's our only clear path to the capital."
"Fortified how?" Kael asked.
"A siege wall. Guard towers. Warded gates. They're expecting us."
Kael's jaw tightened. "Good. Let them."
A horn echoed across the canyon. It was time.
Kael moved to the center, where a rough stone had been elevated into a platform. Rebels looked up at him—not as a stranger anymore, but as their fire-bearer. Their spark of hope.
He spoke without notes, without magic.
"Long ago, they said this flame was cursed. That it should never burn again. But here we are—still standing, still fighting. That flame lives in you now."
A cheer rose.
"The Sovereign has ruled with fear. With lies. But we've seen the truth. We've bled for it. And we will burn his throne to ash before we kneel again."
Swords clashed in salute. Fire cracked in mage palms.
Kael raised his blade.
"Today, we march. Not for war—but for freedom."
The army surged forward.
They moved quickly, the sand crunching beneath hundreds of feet. Kael rode near the front, Elara at his side, Lysaria slightly behind. Despite the heat, despite the risk, there was a sense of unity in the air. Purpose.
As Emberpass came into view by late afternoon, its defenses loomed tall and cruel. Black steel walls twisted with spiked battlements. Enchanted flames burned blue above the towers. The path was narrow—no room for flanking. A direct assault would be suicide.
Kael dismounted, staring ahead.
"We need a breach," he said.
Elara frowned. "A distraction could work."
"I have something better," Lysaria said, stepping forward. She knelt, pressing her hand to the earth.
A surge of glowing lines spread outward—like veins of fire threading through the sand. They snaked beneath the gate, humming with dormant magic.
"What is that?" Kael asked.
"An ancient ember-path," Lysaria whispered. "Built long before the Sovereign's reign. Forgotten by most... but not by the Flame."
The ground trembled. From beneath the gate, a low rumble echoed. Then—a blast of molten rock burst upward, sending debris flying as the warded entrance shattered like glass.
The army roared.
"MOVE!" Elara shouted. "Before they regroup!"
Kael charged forward, sword raised, the Forsaken Flame coursing through him. Rebel cries echoed behind him. The Ash Warden's knights poured from the towers, cloaked in black flame—but Kael was faster.
Fire met fire.
Steel met fury.
The battle had begun.
And Kael knew—this was only the first wall.
But he was no longer the boy who ran from fire.
He was the one who lit it.