The mountains of Nareth did not welcome travelers. The wind cut like a blade, and the stones whispered secrets long forgotten. No fire would catch; the cold seemed to swallow even the faintest spark.
Aaron climbed the final ridge alone, leaving the others behind in the foothills below. With every step higher, the world grew quieter—until even his own breath felt like an intrusion upon the ancient silence.
At the summit, he found what he had come for.
A circle of standing stones, blackened and broken, surrounded a single campfire burning with a cold, gray flame.
A figure sat cross-legged beside it, draped in ash-colored robes, hands folded calmly.
The man looked up, as if he had been waiting for Aaron all along.
"Aaron Hotveil," he said, voice calm yet weighted. "Born of sky, raised in shadow, hunted by fire. You look… smaller than I imagined."
Aaron's hand hovered near his blade, but he did not draw it.
"Who are you?" he asked.
The man rose slowly, brushing ash from his robes. His voice was deep, warm—and unsettling.
"I am Lucien Virell. Once a Skyborn. Now… the only one who remembers what that truly means."
---
Aaron narrowed his eyes. "You're with the Thorn."
Lucien smiled faintly. "Was. Until I uncovered the lies beneath their truth. I no longer serve them—I watch them rot."
He paced slowly around the cold fire.
"You seek answers. I offer them freely."
Aaron held his ground.
"Your mother," Lucien said softly, "was my teacher. She chose you over the fire. She broke the Pact. And she died for it."
Aaron froze.
"She taught me to control the ash," Lucien continued, "but you—she taught you to feel. That was her mistake."
---
Aaron summoned a flicker of flame in his palm. "You don't know her."
Lucien's eyes glowed—not with flame, but with memory.
"I knew her better than you ever will."
He plunged his hand into the gray fire, pulling forth a twisting strand of smoke.
The smoke twisted and turned, forming Ashen's pale face.
"Would you like to know what he remembers? What he fears? What he doubts about you?"
Aaron's fists clenched tightly. "What did you do to him?"
Lucien smiled, sad and cruel. "Only reminded him. When his brothers burned, you did not come. You never even knew."
---
Back at the camp, Ashen rose slowly, face blank, eyes distant.
Without a word, he turned from the firelight—and walked into the dark forest, away from Aaron.
---
Aaron felt a blade slice through his ribs.
"He'll come back," Aaron whispered, voice trembling.
Lucien stepped close, voice low and sharp.
"You cannot lead what you do not understand. Burn the lies. Let the ash speak."
Aaron raised his hand—but the flame would not answer.
Lucien's tone hardened.
"That is the curse of inherited power. You think it is yours."
He turned away.
"When you are ready to stop being their son… and start being fire—come find me."
The cold flame flickered and died.
Lucien vanished into the mist.
Aaron was left alone on the mountain—surrounded by silent stones—with a heart no longer sure if it burned… or broke.