....
Far to the south, in a black spire that reached into smoke-filled skies, a boy stood before a pyre.
His name was Vael. Golden eyes. Crimson armor. The prodigy of the Flame Sect.
"The Azure shamshir has awakened," said the voice in the flame.
Vael bowed. "Then I will burn it from the world."
The High Flame, the formless voice that ruled the sect, crackled with approval. "You were born to cleanse the bloodline. Let none stand in your path. Not even the boy."
Vael left with his honor guard, dragonscales clinking against ash-steel. A scar across his jaw throbbed—a mark left by Mo's father years before. This wasn't just duty. It was vengeance.