The wind howled across the broken plains of Amaranth, carrying with it the faint hum of Rift energy that refused to fade even after centuries. The land was healing - slowly, unevenly - but the scars still glowed faintly beneath the surface, like veins of sleeping fire.
Kairo walked ahead, his cloak brushing against the grass that shimmered with traces of Riftlight. Behind him followed Reika and Taro, both quiet for once. The journey had stretched long and strange, filled with ghosts of their pasts and the fragile beginnings of new life. But today, something felt different - lighter, almost peaceful.
They reached a cliff that overlooked a valley blooming with life. Crude wooden huts stood among green fields, and laughter echoed faintly below. It was the first village they had seen in weeks - alive, thriving, untouched by decay.
Reika squinted down. "You think they'll even know who we are?"
Taro grinned. "You mean you? The scary lady with twin blades? I'm sure they'll love you."
Kairo said nothing, eyes distant. "Let's find out."
The Village of Dawnspire
The people of Dawnspire were young - impossibly young. Boys and girls, barely in their teens, armed with salvaged weapons, makeshift armour, and fire in their eyes. They stared as the trio approached, whispers rippling through the crowd like wind through wheat.
"Is that him?" one voice asked.
"The Ashborn…" another whispered in awe.
"No, the Ashborn's just a story."
"Then why does he look exactly like the statue?"
A girl stepped forward before Kairo could respond. She had short white hair that seemed to shimmer faintly with Riftlight, and a scarf too big for her slender frame. Her gaze was calm - unnervingly so.
"You're late," she said.
Taro blinked. "Late? For what? Dinner? Please say dinner."
The girl ignored him. "You were supposed to come sooner. The Rift told us."
Reika stiffened. "The Rift told you?"
The girl nodded and turned, motioning for them to follow. "Come. The others are waiting."
They were led through the village toward a wide clearing at its heart. There, six figures stood - all teenagers, each wearing different scraps of armour or travel gear. They looked like adventurers stitched together by fate.
The girl introduced them one by one:
. Mira, the white-haired leader with Rift-sight
. Renn, a tall boy with a hammer too big for his size
. Finn, a thief with a smile that could charm gods
. Sera, silent, eyes always scanning the horizon
. And Noel, the quiet one - dark-haired, watchful, with a faint golden glow flickering behind his pupils.
When Kairo's eyes met Noel's, the world seemed to tremble.
A flicker - a memory - a voice whispering through time:
"You cannot destroy me, Ashborn. You can only pass me on."
Kairo staggered slightly. Reika caught his arm. "Kairo? What is it?"
He looked at Noel again. The boy smiled, uncertain but strangely familiar. "You okay, sir?"
Kairo's throat went dry. The aura, the faint energy clinging to the boy's soul - it was unmistakable.
The Tyrant King.
That night, the villagers gathered around a fire, sharing food and laughter. Taro was in his element, spinning wild tales about their past battles - most of them exaggerated beyond recognition.
"And then," he said, waving a roasted skewer dramatically, "the Rift Dragon blinked - one blink - and poof! Gone! Kairo vaporised it with his fire-eyes."
Reika groaned. "Fire-eyes aren't real, Taro."
"Not with that attitude."
Laughter rippled through the group. Even Kairo smiled faintly, though his eyes never left Noel.
Later, when the others had gone to sleep, Kairo approached him quietly. "You feel it, don't you?" he asked softly.
Noel looked up, startled. "Feel what?"
"The heat. The voices in your dreams. The light behind your eyes."
The boy hesitated. "...Sometimes. I thought it was just nightmares."
Kairo knelt beside him. "It's not. It's something older. Something I carried once."
Noel's expression fell. "The Tyrant King."
Kairo's silence was enough of an answer.
The night wind whispered around them, carrying the faint hum of Rift energy - like a heartbeat waiting to awaken again.
Reika watched them from afar, her hand resting on her sword. "He's changing again," she murmured.
Taro's usual grin was gone. "Yeah. And not just him."
The fire crackled, reflecting in their eyes as the stars burned bright above the reborn world.
Because in the valley of Dawnspire, under the illusion of peace, the flame that once devoured kingdoms had found its next vessel.
And the cycle - though broken once - had begun to turn again.