The dawn came like bruised light through fog.
The Ashen Hollow stood quieter than usual. The beasts had gone still. The wind refused to climb the ruined stairs. Somewhere deep in the bones of the sect, something waited.
Kaien stood beneath the central arch, hands clasped behind his back.
Before him knelt Seren and Rin, both silent, both steady, sweat clinging to their brows. Their robes now bore the faint mark of ash—the sect's spiral sigil hand-drawn on their sleeves.
Their paths had begun.
Now they had to walk them.
"Flame is not destruction," Kaien said, voice clear in the morning hush.
"It's hunger. It's memory. It's the shape of what you want most, carried through pain."
He stepped down into the circle before them.
"You've survived. Now you learn to live."
Ashen Hollow Sect: Initiate Training — First Flame Rites
Objective: Align each disciple's elemental pathUnlock Beastlink potentialBegin cultivation of Flame Cycle – Root Phase
The ritual formation etched into the ground pulsed with white light, traced by Kaien's hand and Nyru's claw. It responded not to strength, but to intention.
Seren stepped first.
Her flame shimmered across her arms like liquid script, her breath timed with each hand movement. Kaien circled her slowly, observing.
"Too rigid," he said. "Flame flows. You're gripping it like a weapon."
"It is a weapon," she replied, eyes narrow.
"It's also your voice," he said. "Learn to speak with it."
She gritted her teeth, then relaxed. The flame flowed more naturally—like calligraphy written in heat.
Rin stepped forward.
Smoke curled around his fingers, but it refused to hold shape.
Kaien watched.
"You're afraid of it."
"I'm afraid of what it brings," Rin muttered.
"Then face it," Kaien said, and raised a hand.
A shadow broke free from the formation, taking Rin's form—a smoke-beast shaped from his own memory. The night his sect fell. The moment he turned and ran. The voice that cursed him.
Rin froze.
Then screamed, charging into it without a weapon.
Smoke and fear collided.
When it cleared, Rin stood alone—exhausted, coughing, the beast gone. But his flame now pulsed beneath his skin, not just around it.
He bowed.
"Again."
Kaien nodded.
By nightfall, both disciples collapsed near the fire.
Nyru curled behind them, rumbling in approval.
Kaien sat apart, silent.
The ritual had drained him more than it should have. His hands trembled when he hid them beneath his cloak. The burn beneath his collarbone pulsed brighter tonight—spiraling outwards like a brand.
And for the first time since waking…
He heard a voice.
"Kaien."
He turned.
No one.
The brazier burned low, white and soft.
But the flame within it twisted—not upward, but inward, showing not the reflection of his face… but of another.
A man in black, cloaked in ash and gold, sword glowing with bound fire. Behind him stood a thousand dead—and the sigil of a sect buried before the Hollow was ever raised.
The Ashen Monarch.
The Warden Who Burned Heaven.
And he looked exactly like Kaien.
Memory Sync Triggered — Suppressed Identity Detected
Soul Compatibility: 91%Memory Lock Level: Divine-Incinerated (Tier VIII)Name Status: RedactedDanger of Full Recall: CatastrophicEstimated Memory Unseal: 3.4% complete
Kaien gripped his chest.
"That's not me."
But the fire did not lie.
And in the reflection, the figure in the ash raised his sword—
And pointed it at Kaien.
He did not sleep that night.
When Seren stirred beside the fire, she asked quietly:
"Are we really safe here?"
Kaien didn't answer at first.
Then:
"You're safe from the Wilds. From beasts. From men with blades."
"But not from fire."
Far away, in a storm-wreathed tower, an old woman opened a sealed scroll.
Inside it was a single name.
The name of a man erased by the heavens.
She frowned.
"The Ashen Monarch was slain in the last Reckoning."
"So why is he building a sect again?"