Chapter Thirty-Six: Fire in the Dark
The woods whispered with life. Cicadas sang, leaves rustled, and the shadows stretched long under the morning sun. Kael stood alone among them, breath steady, the air around him trembling with heat and darkness.
His body moved in deliberate arcs. Shadows lanced outward from his arms like spears, colliding with whips of flame. He forced them together, merging two halves of his being into something sharper, cleaner. The air cracked with heat when fire wrapped the darkness, and for a moment the blaze curved into a scythe's edge before collapsing.
"Closer," Kael murmured, chest rising with the effort. "Again."
He raised his hands—then froze.
A scent rode the wind. Steel. Oil. Sweat. Not his people. Not beasts.
Humans.
He slipped silently through the trees, Umbra stalking at his side, the wolf's hackles raised. Ahead, a band of armored soldiers crept through the underbrush, their tabards bearing the sigil of a crimson lion. Ten of them, blades drawn, bows strung.
An attack party.
Kael stepped into the clearing before they could strike.
The soldiers stiffened, eyes locking on him. One barked an order, and arrows loosed.
Kael raised his hand. Shadows thickened, swallowing the shafts midair. Fire burst outward in a wave, driving the soldiers back. Screams echoed as steel warped in the heat, shields cracking.
"Leave," Kael's voice rolled like thunder. "You do not belong here."
They rushed him anyway.
What followed was swift and merciless. Kael slipped between them with shadow steps, fists wreathed in flame. Swords shattered, armor melted, men fell. He did not kill them all—he wanted one alive.
Umbra slammed into the last man standing, pinning him to the ground with teeth bared at his throat. The soldier thrashed until Kael raised his hand.
"Alive," Kael ordered, and Umbra released, though her growl lingered.
The soldier's eyes burned with fear and hatred both as Kael dragged him upright.
"You'll do," Kael muttered.
And with that, he marched the captive back toward the Hollow.
The longhouse filled quickly when Kael returned, the prisoner shoved to the floor at the council's feet. Lyria stood tense at Kael's right, Fenrik at his left, Thalos looming with arms crossed.
Kael spoke plainly. "Ten soldiers from the human kingdom crossed our borders. I stopped them. This one lives."
The council stirred. The dwarf master spat. "Already they test us."
"They'll send more," Fenrik growled. "An army next time."
"Or," Lyria cut in, eyes sharp, "they were probing. Testing our defenses, yes—but not yet committed. That means there's still time."
Kael lifted a hand, silencing them. "The question is what to do now."
Debate flared. Thalos pushed for crushing retaliation: a strike to make humans fear ever stepping foot near the Hollow again. Fenrik argued for doubling the patrols, reinforcing defenses. The dwarf master suggested quietly that perhaps trade could still be possible, if blood was avoided.
Kael let them speak, then stepped forward. "I have another idea."
All eyes turned to him.
He looked down at the prisoner, whose eyes narrowed in confusion and defiance. "We let him live. Not just live—we send him back."
A murmur swept the room. Kael's gaze hardened. "We are not conquerors. We are not beasts. We build. If he returns to his kingdom with blood on his hands, he'll say we are monsters. But if he returns alive, he will speak of power—and of restraint."
Silence. Then slowly, Lyria nodded. "It's dangerous… but it might be the only way to change how they see us."
The dwarf rubbed his beard thoughtfully. "Or they'll see it as weakness."
Kael's voice was firm. "No. They'll see it as choice. And that is far more dangerous to them than any sword."
Later, Kael entered the cell where the prisoner sat bound. The soldier glared at him, bruised but unbroken.
"You expect me to beg?" the man spat.
Kael crouched, crimson eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. "No. I expect you to listen. Your kingdom sent you to die here. You saw what I did to your men. I could have killed you too. But I didn't."
The soldier sneered. "Because you want something."
"Yes," Kael said simply. "I want you to carry a message. Tell your king that we are not his enemies. Tell him we want peace, not war. But also tell him this—if he comes for us again, he will find only ash."
The soldier's breath hitched. For the first time, his eyes wavered.
Kael leaned closer, shadows curling faintly around his shoulders. "You are alive because I allow it. Do not waste the gift. Carry my words. Choose wisely what you tell them."
The prisoner swallowed, then gave a slow, reluctant nod.
Kael stood and signaled to the guards. "Release him at the border. Give him food and water for the road."
As the man was dragged away, Kael lingered in the shadows of the cell, whispering to himself.
"Now we see if peace is still possible."